Author's Note:

You're in luck. I don't feel as if there's something subtly wrong about the chapter that I just have to keep editing/hacking at it (if I did stubbornly kept at it, I would've only updated next week). Not sure it's great or anything, but I suppose it would do. Final edit brought to you by repeated plays of L'Arc~en~Ciel's The Fourth Avenue Cafe and Queen's Don't Stop Me Now.

Thanks for all the reviews and thoughtful words, even the anonymous ones. Sorry if I still can't reply to a couple of them. Life is still a bit hectic so I'm just dropping a chapter and running off most of the time.

To Guest who-left-a-noticeably-long review: Thank you for the time and care you took in writing one. I did read your review (I skimmed it, alright). By coincidence (because I wrote this months ago), some of the things you mentioned are actually addressed in this chapter. As for some others, they're either not a problem right now or would be addressed later. Any possible animagi effort (if there is even any) is still a long way away, though.

'-

36 Shifting Priorities and Relations

Meeting Tom who is watching people setting up the base. Not number one in my life and fine with it. An engaging conversation. Hermione drops in at the infirmary and chats with Maggie Edelstein.

'-

"Who was in charge of this project, Pendleton?" Hermione asked as they walked together.

"The preparation for the headquarters for The Society? The one I've seen so far is Melchior." He replied. "There was a fourth-year earlier who seemed to be in close discussion with Melchior, before he left not long after I came in—Orion lent him, I think. Otherwise, it comes down to Melchior and I."

Hmm, one of the Knights of Walpurgis? Interesting.

"Not one of the Slytherin prefects?" Hermione asked.

"It's actually a courtesy not to ask them for it," the wizard answered.

"Really? Why is that?"

"Because as prefects, they're required to be responsible and uphold the rules. There's no rule against using an empty and unused class for your own purpose. Yet considering the history of Hogwarts and the number of rules that must have accumulated since then…"

She understood. "There's no guarantee that there's no obscure rule somewhere that hasn't been in use in the last, oh, two centuries that might obstruct this use."

Unsaid but implied was how the situation of having broken a rule without knowing it (or only knowing it later) could become a weak point for said prefect if anyone found out.

"Exactly."

He stopped at a door to his right, opened the door, and gestured for Hermione to enter first. She obliged.

The room that Tom's minion had found had high ceilings, like many classes in Hogwarts, with an abundance of tall windows that let the light in. Hermione sometimes wondered where all these windows open to, because not all of them were obvious from the outside of Hogwarts. She put thoughts of investigating Hogwarts' non-Euclidean geometry for another day.

One of the walls was almost completely covered by a gigantic map of Europe. Three house elfs were holding it up at different points on top of a worrying stack of tables, while Melchior was on a different stack of tables, a third of the way along the wall from the windows, casting something at a part of the map's top edge.

"Is he casting sticking charms?" Hermione asked Tom, who was leaning back on a spare table as she approached him.

"Oh, not at all. A simple finite would have taken it all down. No, he'd been applying resin to the back of the map before sticking it on the wall."

"What's the wand for, then?"

"Heat, of course. If we use simple glue, all the house elfs would get stuck to the back of the map. Perhaps even some of the other wizards here earlier would have managed to glue themselves to the map too." He shook his head. Tom had the fatalistic air of one who already had to idiot-proof too many things in his life for his liking. "No, it's safer to use heat-treated adhesive. Besides, the resin is stronger than most glue."

Oddly enough, the pragmatism in his voice reminded her of her most unflappable primary school teachers, the ones that didn't blink at a roomful of screaming children and can create order in the most chaotic classrooms within ten minutes.

Pendleton had easily moved a stack of tables towards the corner wall opposite of the windows and climbed up. From how he had his wand out and pointed it at different points at the top of the map, it seemed that he'd be assisting Melchior from the other end.

"Those tables look hazardous, though." She wouldn't deny that she was worried.

"Sticking charms." He promptly replied.

"Hmm. Alright." Hermione leaned back on the table next to him. "So, about tomorrow…"

Tom glanced at her once before returning his attention to the work again. She took in the room. It was…it was enough for their needs, actually. It wasn't as if they needed much to begin with. She'd want to tweak the map, of course, but that can always be done later.

There was something she had forgotten to mention and she didn't quite know how to bring up.

"We're going out for lunch, right? Because I don't like the idea of getting back too late. Look at this room; the map is going to be done soon enough, the filing cabinets are already in place and there are already enough shelves here.

What's left? Some basic security wards? Something that's simple and non-violent that it wouldn't conflict with Hogwarts' own wards? I can make a mock-up for one in half an hour. We can troubleshoot it for, say the next half an hour. Give me three people who knows how to raise wards and it would be finished in another half an hour—alright, it would probably be after supper, but it would be done today."

Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to get to the point.

"We can hold our first meeting by tomorrow evening."

The Ravenclaw turned to him. "You're not going to, well, push it back from tomorrow just because we were having dinner at Hogsmeade, right? Tom? When it comes to trying to get Grindelwald, I think faster is always better."

She didn't have time to dawdle for an entire day when she had things to do. Not even for a date.

To her surprise, he laughed.

It wasn't a chuckle that she'd heard more often in class or in discussions—it was an easy, unrestrained laughter. She could even see at the corner of her eyes Melchior stopping his work to turn around, staring blankly with an uncertain expression. Pendleton, on the other hand, seemed to only glance in their direction for a moment before resuming his task with the same aplomb he'd demonstrated.

"You're correct, I never intended to spend suppertime at Hogsmeade." Tom said. His hand on the table was right next to hers, their fingers touching slightly. "But it had only occurred to me that you might not think the same way."

Her lips twitched at the corners. "And you were wondering how to break the news."

"Just so."

"Well, that's one thing that I'm rather predictable about." Hermione said, with a self-deprecating smile. "Saving the world tends to come first before my social life. I'm sorry, but honestly, you're not number one in my life."

It had led to some prolonged discussions (and arguments) with Ron before, but even now, she wasn't someone who would blame their ex for all the cracks in the relationship. Ron also deserved a girlfriend that wasn't a workaholic. Yes, some of her research in medical spells saved more lives the faster she'd finished them, but something certainly could be said about work-life balance. Only much later it occurred to her after some thought that she could've tried pushing harder for assistants when budget review came, for one.

Tom didn't look the slightest bit offended.

"Well, if we're being honest about that right now, then I'll admit that you're not number one in my life either." He replied. She could see from the way he leaned back that he was still completely relaxed. She shifted closer and leaned slightly towards him to speak in a lowered tone. If she dropped her chin, it would rest right over his shoulder.

"I presume the number one would be taking over the world, then?" Hermione asked.

His smirk already told her the answer before he said anything. "If that's how you'd put it, then yes."

"How would you put it, by the way?"

"I'm optimising."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, staring him in the eye. "You're out optimising the world?"

Tom nodded. "Why yes. I'm confident that the wizarding world will just bumble along without a clear purpose for decades otherwise. The average wizard and witch would mostly be reacting according to whatever the Prophet whipped up instead of for the long-term interests of the wizarding world. Who, among those leading the wizarding world right now, actually has a vision, Hermione?"

"Dumbledore," she answered without doubt.

The way his gaze cooled immediately demonstrated that it clearly wasn't what he took as a favourable answer, but he didn't take it personally.

"Dumbledore is hiding inside the walls of this castle instead of going out there and changing the world. What good is his power and knowledge if he simply chose to live out his life in an ivory tower? Utterly useless. He is as useful as Hogwarts' squib caretaker that way."

Hermione shelved his prejudice against squibs for discussion material for yet another day. One prejudice at a time, Hermione. She was already working on his muggle one, after all.

His indignation at what he'd seen as Dumbledore wasting his own talents was actually one that Hermione could understand. Later on, she'd often wondered why Dumbledore didn't take it upon himself to simply track Voldemort down and kill him. Post-Quirrell and as a ghost, he couldn't have been that strong, and Dumbledore was certainly no wizard anyone would underestimate. Even if he didn't know where the horcruxes were, it only meant that he'd have to find and kill a weakened Voldemort some six more times, assuming that he's saving Harry for the final fight.

The brunette sighed. "I know what you mean. I don't agree with his approach either."

Tom paused and glanced at her quizzically. "You don't?"

Hermione huffed. "He's a great wizard, yes, but he's not a saint. I'm quite aware of his flaws now, don't worry. Obviously, we wouldn't even have to organise all this if he was out there himself, looking for Grindelwald."

"Now you're overestimating him. As great a wizard as he is, it wouldn't be much easier for him to search half a continent for one wizard. One powerful wizard with not a small number of followers, but he would still need to cover Western Europe and a bit more besides. I was thinking of him using his influence in terms of the Ministry or the Wizengamot." He answered while shaking his head.

She couldn't help the small smile on her face. Most people really have no idea about how well Dumbledore knew Grindelwald, do they?

"Hermione?" He was observing her carefully. "You know something, don't you?"

She waved her hand to dismiss it. "Oh, I don't know, Tom. I just have a good feeling about it. I think Dumbledore might surprise you. He's still Flamel's apprentice."

"It's not as if he manages to create a philosopher's stone of his own."

She shrugged. "the philosopher's stone is overrated."

Hermione ignored his disbelieving stare and quirked a smile back at him.

"Oh, it's good, yes, but changing base metal into gold? Please, flooding the market with too much gold in the short run will only depress its value. I'm sure there's also a limit to how much you can transform in, say, a month. Enough to live comfortably, sure, but it's not much if you really need a large amount of money to, say, invest. There are materials that are easier to do, transfigurations-wise, but is no less expensive. After all, wasn't aluminium once more expensive than gold even if it's more abundant, simply because it was harder to purify?"

"Napoleon did have a dining set made out of aluminium. I've heard Bernadotte talking about it once, as he enjoyed a disbelieving audience. All I could think of at the time was why on earth would anyone choose aluminium instead of gold?" He mused. She could almost see the gears turning in his head, for she couldn't see the blue in his eyes anymore and only endless darkness.

She leaned back next to him against the same desk.

"Well, it would be hardly valuable now, and only for its historical value. But back then…"

Tom tilted his head in thought as she glanced back towards Hermione.

"Speaking of hard-to-create items made of common elements, diamonds are made of mere carbon. If we can apply pressures that intense to a block of graphite—the easiest to find will be pencil leads—we would have a block of diamond."

He snapped his fingers. "Just like that. No philosopher stone is necessary and it would probably fetch a comparably high price. That was the point you were trying to make, wasn't it?"

His gaze did not waver from hers and she couldn't help her sharp intake of breath.

Hermione did not have an answer ready, simply because it wasn't one she'd expected. She had half-expected him to be as tied up as the rest of the wizarding world with the idea that wealth meant the amount of gold (the element) that you have. It was a strong and inert element valuable to create artefacts and certain potion equipment, yet creating wealth was actually more flexible than only relying on gold. It was merely about providing value to the economy that people are willing to pay for.

Where that value came from was limited only by the imagination.

Once she showed that an alternative path was possible, he abandoned the old idea as easily as a snake shedding its old skin.

"I'm not sure it's as easy as that in practice. There might not be any spells that can provide pressure that huge." Hermione murmured as she broke their gaze, the inexplicable gravitational pull between them distracting. "The pressure is higher than even the deepest point of the ocean."

"Would you let that stop you?" There was a hint of challenge there.

"Not really. It's not as if it would stop you either, would it?" She asked back.

He shrugged. "It's bound to be easier to figure out than how to create the philosopher's stone, isn't it?"

The carelessness in his words belied the spark in his eyes. She nodded with the same apparent nonchalance, their shoulders bumping against each other on occasion.

"Oh, definitely."

"Yet that does not cover the stone's ability to provide the Elixir of Life." Tom pointed out.

"Of course. It's as they say; there are many roads that leads to Rome. There are many possible paths to study eternal life or longevity enhancement without resorting to the philosopher's stone."

"Really?" He glanced sideways towards her. She turned towards him as the urge to share bubbled up from within.

"Yes, really! There are many species on earth that doesn't age the same way we do. Some of the flatworms, the planarians, can regenerate their entire self no matter what organ loss they suffer or how much of their body is cut off. A human's wound and limb loss results in scars and permanent loss of limb! The fact that they can do this indefinitely, without having their telomeres worn down by all the cell division and regeneration is astonishing! They might actually be functionally immortals."

"Immortal worms…" She couldn't quite read his expression right now, but if it was disbelief, she was determined to address it.

"I know they don't sound like much, but they're significant since their telomere endings are made of the exact same DNA sequence like ours. Yet where human cells kept losing theirs with every stage of division as well as when we grow older, this doesn't happen for many species of planarians. If we can figure out how they do it and find the analogous mechanism in human cells, we'll make strides in human longevity."

"Perhaps, in the end, it would even lead clues to our species' immortality."

Tom had held her hand in his and started walking out of the room. There was something deep and unreadable in his mien, but it scarcely concerned her. Hermione was only following out of reflex, she was still too busy sharing what she knew.

"There are also other species that doesn't seem to go through conventional aging the way we do. There's the ever-youthful axolotl—also with an uncanny ability to not just regrow lost limbs but also reconnect broken spine. Senescence—growing old—is not biologically inevitable, you know? We just happen to be one of the unlucky species on that front—"

The hallway was clear.

That was when Tom tugged her into an out of the way nook and suddenly kissed the breath out of her. All the words that had nicely lined up in her mind evaporated as they were overrun with bliss. Her hands went up without thinking, of which one was snug under his blazer. The speed with which her own ardour flared up in response to his was beyond her expectation. They had fitted against each other perfectly this time, instinct given fluency by their previous experience. Two swans curling their necks around each other could not have been more entwined than they. Even the lightest touch of a fingertip on her earlobe was sending shivers all over.

"Tom?" She asked.

"It was either this or kissing you in full view of everyone else in class," he answered.

His voice was low, far from the even, measured tone she was used to hearing. She had caused that—made him lose his vaunted control. Hermione could feel heat flooding her cheeks and was damn sure she was blushing. She was about to cover her face with her hand when he took her fingers in his grasp and pulled it away, his gaze dark. The kiss that came next didn't exactly surprise her, but her reaction to it did. She reached out to him without the hesitation she thought she'd have and the fire burning between them was just as intense as before.

Where their encounter after the Defence class was the product of their competitive edge, mutual attraction and excess adrenaline, their current closeness was wrapped with an intimacy that was yet unfamiliar and at the same time exhilarating. The sense of wonder she could feel in his meticulous exploration was another step towards her falling for him. She might as well walk away now if she wished to stop the slow dance towards the inevitable conclusion of a partnership such as theirs.

(How many people can Hermione Granger, Curie, talk about everything and nothing with? She knew too many things, loved too many of them to wish to always pretend that they are not part of her. How many people can Tom Riddle speak without holding back the breadth of his intelligence and without any of his masks? For surely, even one as accomplished as he must find pretending to be completely human all the time to be tiring).

Yet now, she didn't want to walk away. That was another thing that had started changing, had changed. She no longer wanted to simply walk away from him, from Hogwarts, from this mess of an unknown past world.

"What brought this about?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, "not that I'm complaining, mind you."

He nipped lightly on her earlobe and she shifted her hands that were in his trouser pocket strategically. She took the strained groan as a victory on her side.

"You were being you," he murmured.

Her brows creased. "Are we using zen koans now? That's not an—ah!"

His tongue was on a particular spot below her ear that was her absolute weak point and he was giving a particularly intense open-mouthed kiss to her neck there. She grabbed his hips to stop from sliding down the wall, but the side effect of that was to grind them against each other. She wasn't the only one who was losing control of their breathing at that point, or who was reflexively moving against each other. She was sure that neither of them was fit to return to the classroom right now.

"You have such interesting insights," he said this to her clavicle. Hermione had stopped noticing how many buttons he'd skimmed open after the first two. "It occurred to me, that it would take a lifetime to hear of all the things you've known and seen in your future sight. Even then, it still might not be enough. Yet I still want them."

"I want them all. I want all your years, Hermione—give them to me. In lieu of a payment, I'll share all the wonders I'll find. You can have your pick of the territories, objects, I'll discover and win."

His voice was charismatic and commanding.

She was holding her breath without knowing. Hermione carefully cradled his face, tilting it up because of the sudden need to see his eyes. It was the full darkness of a moonless night and at the same time the stars of his mind shone unhindered in their brilliance. For it was impossible to see the thousand unusual facets of Tom Riddle when he is presenting the serene full moon of normalcy to the world.

"All my years, Tom?"

"Of course. Why ever not?" He replied. For Tom, that was almost carefree.

He was simply saying the first thing that came to his mind, she thought with a strange sort of surprise.

The oddest sort of relief flowing through her. It was the realisation that she had begun hoping and that it was only now that she felt she could allow herself to let that hope be—to not let herself be constantly overruled by fear.

When she kissed him again, she was high on giddiness—free from her worries and too eager to share it. He accepted her joy gleefully, with the frank appreciation of one who was unapologetic in his greed. For someone who always had a number of plans in play at any time, she knew that when he was with her, beyond their discussions, he had nothing else in mind but to lose himself in her.

Tom followed the lines of her shoulder carefully, alternating between kisses and nips. He was determined in his attention to her reactions; how she clutched him harder, or pulled him back up cover his mouth with hers, or retaliated at a different spot she'd found on him. That one time when his roaming hands managed to make them both move to hit a particularly sweet friction, she was sure she bit his shoulder hard. Yet beyond his initial shortness of breath, what she noticed about his following chuckle was how satisfied he was for pulling the response from her as he searched for more. There was something flattering about his singlemindedness.

Hermione knew there were still challenges ahead. Grindelwald was still out there, but for now it felt manageable. While she was ambivalent about the relentless draw she felt to him, she'd only understood now that on his side, he never did much care to split hairs over whatever it was that he felt (morbid curiosity? An intense need to avoid his death? To gain yet another competent player to his side? An acceptable target for his hormones?) For all the complexity of his mind, his principle in life was actually rather straightforward—if he wanted something, he'd take it.

When she drew back, doing her best to regulate her breathing, his hand was right below the curve of her breast while she had just left scratches down his back under his shirt. He didn't even seem to notice that last detail.

"You know that you're doing this out of order, right?" She finally managed to say. "I think there needs to be at least a few dates in before you jump a girl with a proposal."

She was only half-joking when she said it, as her curiosity drove her to provoke him and see how he would react.

Tom seemed to find her statement slightly unexpected, but he didn't seem to consider her conclusion as strange. That he could just back away from it did not seem to even be in his mind.

"Tradition tends to be inefficient, even when the solution seems bloody obvious," He remarked, but he hadn't stopped running his hands up and down her side. It was nice, though at the same time it made thinking difficult.

"That's your primary reason for spontaneously offering to tie our lives together? Because it's more efficient?" She asked in mock outrage.

He shrugged, lips rising on one side. "Well, it is a good reason."

That was when Hermione noticed that her shirt was open all the way, and even if they were in a nook, it still opened to the hallway. She sighed and started buttoning it up again.

"Well, I really can't think anything too complicated right now when you're doing that." He smirked, but didn't stop, only moving his hands outside her shirt. "What I do know, is that we're not going back to meet Melchior or Pendleton right now. There's just no way we can walk back in and look innocent and I'm not in the mood to face anyone's nosiness. What we're going to do, is find an empty classroom, lock it and snog as much as we want."

"You really enjoy ordering people around, don't you?" He asked, amused.

"It's not a real order if I'm just saying what people want. You can always disagree if you don't want to." She pointed out. As if anyone ever managed to make Tom Riddle do anything he didn't want—she had no doubt that anyone who did manage would find reasons to regret it sooner or later.

He slipped his hand in hers and started striding away with her in tow. As she'd expected, she had read him well enough to know his answer before she made her suggestion.

'-

When Hermione had gone with Professor Merrythought to Diagon Alley to get her basic school supplies, one of the extra things she picked up were two or three cheap necklaces.

Some had a copper pendant, others pewter. She didn't actually pay much attention to their details, as the main reason she picked them was because she wanted a practical wearable to anchor a charm into that a Finite or two wouldn't take it down.

Oh, sure, considering how small they are and how ordinary the metals were, the charms would probably only last a day at most before dissipating on their own. Even if a Finite didn't take it down, four of them might. If she were a bit more skilled in fitting the charm to the trinket, it could take ten Finite. But she wasn't trying to make a proper enchanted object of any sort. What she needed was a convenient placeholder for a charm, so that she'd get a sturdier charm than usual.

Hermione was wearing the copper four-leaf clover one right now. She thought the first charm she'd plant on one of the trinkets was an invisible bubble-head charm (perhaps as a preparation for serious duel, maybe to run through a burning building—who knows?) The last thing she expected was the charm to hide hickeys of all things—the first time she did that was when she went back to her dorm after her fight with Tom at ADADA class.

Tom gave a look of recognition the first time he saw the visible marks on her skin disappeared when she wore it.

"Ah, so that's what it's for." He'd mused.

"Well, how did you do it?" She asked.

Hermione was pretty sure she left a mark or two on his neck too before now and she hadn't seen it when he was still fully dressed. Strands of his black hair fell over his forehead and Hermione felt the weird satisfaction of a job well done at that—she'd been running her hands through his hair and she was pretty sure she'd tugged more than once too.

"I cast it on my tie, of course."

"But—it isn't even metal." Hermione disagreed. On the other hand, she might just be jealous that she didn't think of using something that was already part of her uniform—but no, it wouldn't work with fabric. They don't retain or bind magic easily on them.

"Not the tie itself precisely, but the tie pin is. That's the locus. The bound charm does treat them as one unit, and as such it does not take effect until I tie it."

Tom was wearing his shirt unbuttoned and had draped his tie casually over his shoulders to demonstrate that no, the charm didn't take effect. She could still see the reddened marks on the left side of his neck, or that vague smudge over his right shoulder (a bite). Her fingers were twitching for an entirely different reason. Mostly because she was holding back the urge to slide her hands underneath his shirt.

"No wonder your tie is always impeccable," she muttered. He smirked.

She decided that she was going to wipe that smug look from his face. As his expression lit up when she stalked towards him, it was clear that he wasn't going to gainsay her on her methods.

They did find an abandoned classroom not far from the one the Search was going to be headquartered at. It wasn't as if the whole wing wasn't practically filled with classrooms. The door was hit with something like five locking charms between the two of them in less than ten seconds (no mere Alohomora was going to take that down), before they quickly resumed where they left off.

The other thing she found out was that there were apparently upsides to being a teenager again. If the new extremes of her moods were something she found annoying and had to adjust to, the same cocktail of hormones rich in her blood made experimentations such as these a heady experience. Every touch somehow felt more vivid. She suspected that it was akin to the experience of using microscopically small doses of mind-altering substances beforehand (psilocybin in hallucinogenic mushrooms, maybe?) Except this one doesn't even have damaging long-term effects!

Well, the main effects of going through puberty was adulthood, but she was sure that the common unpleasant side effects of that were well known already (a life of quiet desperation, anyone?)

They did actually end up doing more than snog, though not the horizontal tango itself. It was more than Hermione had planned for. Yet even as she thought back to it now, it hadn't been entirely unexpected for both of them. She couldn't find it in her to regret it either. She didn't know whether the hormones also meant she was more reckless than she would be if she was still her old self (if anyone asked her about her mental age right now, her answer would be a straight out 'I have no idea').

But she wasn't exactly the same person as that Hermione anymore either, was she?

The Sorting Hat had pointed out that not remembering the latter years (a decade? More?) of her life was a blessing in disguise. A fresh start was certainly easier when she did not have to carry the weight of years and years' worth of sorrow. She still felt the loss of her memories, but she couldn't argue with the Sorting Hat's reasoning.

Her current life inexplicably included Tom Riddle in it, and now their belligerent friendship was evolving into something else. Yet seriously, was the world going to be destroyed if she didn't stay away from him? No. Would people end up dead or dying? A solid no on that front as well. Was she still going to fight anyone trying to become a dark lord in Britain? Whoever it was, even Tom? Hell yes. There was no change in her determination there either. Regardless of what the Daily Prophet used to think before she was thrown here, her private life is thus no one else's business.

What Hermione found to be rather inconvenient right now was the shift that happened yet again between them, forcing her to knock all her assumptions off their shelves and start to restack them one by one again in a new order.

She hadn't, after all, expected Tom to be completely unconcerned that he found her far more interesting than anyone else he'd known. Neither did she expected him to consider keeping her close as a wholly reasonable decision in that light. Who cares about what other people think? He'd said. Puppets that exist simply to populate the world don't get a say in his life, he'd stated to her surprise. It wasn't as if he needed to be concerned that people would threaten her life more than he'd be concerned for his own; she could take care of herself just fine. He didn't seem to care much that her principles could easily be opposite his for some things either.

Considering they had consciously and intentionally spent an hour together in an empty classroom in activities that Lakshmi had laconically described as 'clothing optional', saying that they're merely 'good friends' sounded like a bad excuse even in her head. Add the time after the ADADA fight as well as tomorrow's planned date, and the explanation was as flimsy as damp tissue. Hermione resigned herself to not being able to use her old and nicely convenient answer without outright lying. And she'd already promised she wouldn't lie to herself for a myriad of very good reasons.

She sighed, running hand through her thick curls.

Dammit. Adjustment time it is, then.

So, should she go back to the Ravenclaw Tower and do other things while she waited for dinner time to roll over? No, I swear Lakshmi has a sixth sense for gossip. That particular dormmate of hers would keep poking and picking until Hermione blurted something. Nope. She decided that she might as well drop in at the infirmary and see Nurse Edelstein. Maybe Maggie had some interesting news to share about St. Mungo's. Who knows? She certainly wanted to know.

'-

The long slanting rays of the sun lit up the infirmary's hall and added touches of gold to the white linens of the beds. No lanterns have yet been lit at the moment. Maggie Edelstein's copper hair blazed under the favourable light, granting her a crown that seemed to be made of flickering flame. With her confident stride, she truly was a queen of her realm.

"Maggie!"

"Hermione, what brings you here?"

"Why the long face?" Hermione halted before she was too close.

The head nurse rolled her eyes. "Every time you came here, you're either wounded or someone else has been wounded. Or, in the case of the Ministry Massacre, a tragedy just took place. You're asking me why I tensed the moment I saw you?"

"It's a social visit!" Hermione insisted, and a smile grew on Nurse Edelstein's face.

"Oh, fine. Come over. No one is having accidents on quidditch practice. No blown up or melted cauldrons among the first and second year potions class these last few days, thank goodness, so I suppose I am quite free right now."

"Great. I just thought I'd drop by."

"Really?"

Hermione could hear the scepticism even if she couldn't see Maggie's face right now. They were walking side-by-side towards the infirmary office.

"Well, I was wondering how the project at St. Mungo's went. Did the classes held on wound inflicted by muggle weapons make a difference? Was there a difference on whether it was the newer and more junior medical personnel or if it was the more experienced nurses and healers that took the class?"

"Are you always this impatient?" Maggie asked with a side glance, amused.

"I'm not impatient. I just want to know."

"You do know that it's only been half a week, right? It takes time to see the effects. We probably wouldn't be able to see a noticeable difference or lack of it until the end of the month, when the progress of the current patients had been checked, tallied, written up in reports. Then, some of those reports would also have been collected and consolidated in a month and then we can read and compare them."

The brunette sighed. It wasn't as if she didn't know that it was a long shot, but she still wanted to try.

Oh, alright. She certainly wanted to dodge Lakshmi until her own head was less muddled and confused in the first place. But it wasn't the only reason, honest. Nurse Edelstein opened the door to the infirmary's office and Hermione followed behind her before closing it. The sun washed the entire wall opposite of the window in a warm yellow glow.

"Actually, I was thinking about something else as well. I was having tea with the girls today when the talk got around to 'The List'. Apparently, making the list of the ten most interesting people of the opposite gender is a thing in Hogwarts. What struck me is how early the attraction and interest began."

Maggie took one of the seats in front of the desk instead of the one behind it and Hermione took the other one.

"It's hard not to wonder—is magic making wizards and witches more precocious than non-magical people? Why don't we compare their growth rates? Does this explain the relative stability of young marriages in the wizarding world?" Hermione mused out loud.

"Young marriages?"

The brunette nodded. "Yes. I've noticed that many, if not most, marriages in the wizarding world occurs just shortly after school age. The people involved are generally late teens or early twenties. Yet the survival rate of these marriages is quite good, regardless of whether they're mostly arranged or not, or whether they started with a sizeable wedding in the community or a smaller and quieter one."

"Wait, why should it matter?" The nurse asked curiously. It was a good question.

"Well, the more the family and the community came together for the wedding, it also meant that the more people feel invested in the marriage. That the whole two families are invested in a more-arranged marriage is obvious, but the community is also drawn in when they hold a large wedding for a couple. Thus, all these people support the couple more actively, providing support and helping them get through rough patches. Certainly, the marriage has a better survival rate in general than couples that have less explicit assistance from their family or whose marriage is not that well-known and well-publicised in the community."

Maggie was leaning forward and tapping the side of her nose in thought. "This is really interesting, but I don't think I've heard about it before."

Inwardly, the Ravenclaw cringed. 'I read it in future papers' wasn't actually something that would fly as an excuse. But wait, maybe she could mention the other one.

"It was a muggle study." Hermione said, though the interested look in Maggie's face hinted that she wasn't completely out of the woods yet. I might end up being the one making that study in the first place—sorry, original authors, whoever you are! On the other hand, there might be a couple older, precursor works to that one already available in libraries. Hmmm…

"So, what's your plan for testing your hypothesis?" Maggie asked.

"I was thinking that we might work on a paper together, you see…" Hermione laid out her thoughts and explanations that she'd given earlier to her House mates. Maggie nodded along, agreeing easily with her about her proposed dataset. It was the matter of getting the Ministry of Magic to coordinate with the Ministry of Health, or at the very least, a public hospital in London that earned her a frown.

"There is the Statute of Secrecy in place." She said.

"I know," Hermione huffed. "But obviously, there are official channels that are open. The Ministry of Magic is under the Prime Minister of Britain for goodness' sakes. Him and the people in his office certainly know the existence of the wizarding world without having magical relatives or even married to one. And the arrangement has been working fine for a few centuries now, hasn't it?"

There was still a frown sticking to Nurse Edelstein's forehead, but for all her heavy expression, she couldn't easily find an argument to counter Hermione's.

"Why can't that channel be improved upon? You've heard of Minister Spencer-Moon's attempts at reform. I think medical collaboration and saving people's lives would probably go down better among the public than overhauling the Ministry of Magic's selection tests."

"It seems you've heard about it too," The nurse commented.

"It's hard to avoid, especially when it's usually coupled with resentment over muggleborns trying to take over the positions of purebloods and halfbloods, 'greedy for things beyond their lot', or with anti-muggle sentiment," Hermione said with open bitterness. Maggie's expression was filled with sympathy.

"Oh, Hermione…"

"I know why it happened. People are scared, the threat is new and they don't know whether they'd be able to overcome it. They're just looking for someone to blame. I already know all this." She insisted. "It doesn't make it less annoying. But if I can start reducing that no matter how little, it's a start. So, what do you think?"

Maggie sighed. "The last time I checked, I was only supposed to be the Head Nurse in Hogwarts infirmary."

Hermione almost deflated, but the nurse raised her hand as she continued to talk. "But then I found out that for all my title, I didn't even have any other nurses under my command! Head Nurse is an empty title here, and the responsibilities are also less than I expected."

"How did you not know?" Hermione asked curiously. She raised one vivid eyebrow.

"I went to Beauxbatons, dear. My father's French."

"Ah. Alright."

"Beauxbatons has at least three nurses at any given time. Just so you know. So, I've accepted that it was just one of the peculiarities of Hogwarts. Considering that I'm rather free at the moment, I might be able to check with my colleagues at St. Mungo's. Again. I think I might know someone interested in this particular field of study."

"Thank you!"

The nurse shook her head. "Don't thank me yet. It might take a week or two or it might take a month. Anyway, what are you going to do about the muggle-side of the study and the cooperation and Statute-of-Secrecy wrangling that would be needed for this? The data from the muggle hospital that you need doesn't seem easy to get otherwise."

Hermione leaned back, thinking.

"What do you think if I write a letter to Madam Álava to explain about my idea and why I'd need to cooperate with a muggle hospital?" She asked.

Maggie's grin was a little unsettling. It was even more so because Hermione didn't even have any idea as to its cause.

"Oh, go right ahead, dear. In fact, I'll even mail it myself."

'-

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End Notes:

List of Stuff One Might Try to Look Up:

Axolotl: (Biology) The salamander species Ambystoma mexicanum. Its regenerative ability is as phenomenal as described, of which I'll refer you to the paper titled "Salamander spinal cord regeneration: The ultimate positive control in vertebrate spinal cord regeneration" for more details.

They're easily bred in captivity, as they are highly-studied for their miraculous healing abilities. Yet their numbers steadily declining in the wild as Lake Xochimilco gets polluted. Poor critters. (No, breeding them in the wild is not a solution, since the lab population is genetically too uniform compared to the robust and diverse genetic material of the original populations)

Planaria: (Biology) a member of the family Planariidae of freshwater planarians (non-parasitic flatworms). The flatworms in general has the amazing ability to regenerate into a whole individual planaria after any part of it is cut off—and the cut off part will also regenerate into an entire worm. It can do this indefinitely, or at least until the end of the experiments ran by various people (no one has encountered its ceiling). And yes, it does exhibit the ability to preserve its telomere length, unlike humans…

Telomere: (Biology) A repetitive, non-coding section of DNA at the ends of a chromosome. It can be used as an indicator of cellular age because the more times a cell has divided, the shorter its telomere becomes. This is mainly because the DNA duplication enzyme, DNA polymerase, cannot copy the last set of nucleotides of a DNA. As such, the telomeres are buffers to prevent important coding parts of the DNA to be chopped off/left uncopied by the enzyme—it chops the ends of the repeating telomeres instead. This is not the only mechanism that chops off telomere length.

In vertebrates, the DNA code for telomere is TTAGGG, which means that its complement is AATCCC. So, when a human is born, our chromosomes have thousands of repeated TTAGG at their ends.

The older you are, the shorter the telomeres in your cells. When telomeres get too short, it also acts as a signal to the cell to restrict further cell division, as well as senescence (aging) and apoptosis (cell death), depending on the length.

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Additional Notes:

…the experience of using microscopically small doses of mind-altering substances beforehand: this is known as microdosing and is a practice of using very tiny amounts of a substance (say, LSD). This is definitely not enough to create anything resembling an actual high. It is done more for the purpose of altering the way your brain works slightly. Small amounts of LSD over a few weeks can improve creativity (this is based on a small survey of people who'd documented their results at creativity tests before and after), and at a level slightly higher than that, others have reported an easing of their depressive symptoms.

Don't try without medical advice and supervision. Frankly, I'd rather wait until some clinical trials are out and they've figured out the dose range and adjustments required for a wider range of people. Then, the recommended time period of usage also needs to be determined, as well as the time you'd need to go off it before you can try again. (What I've read about most so far is usually LSD or cannabis for the less severe depressions and Adderall for increasing focus). Wired has an interesting write-up on this.

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