After the MRIs, the doctors told them they would contact the Longbottoms as soon as someone read the images and they had results. Alrick thanked the doctors, giving them a phone number at which the Longbottoms could be reached (at which he could probably be reached, Hermione surmised), and then they were all off once more, back to St. Mungo's.
Hermione was lost in thought as they traveled. The Department of Mysteries… could working there help her achieve her goals? Maybe by the time she'd be of age to work there, all her current goals would already be achieved, and she would have new goals by then. Would they be willing to offer her a summer internship next year? Then she could see how well she liked it and determine if she thought the career would be a good fit.
She had a mental image of herself as a baby Unspeakable, somehow shrunken next to the others but still in an unrecognizable hooded cloak, and abruptly Hermione realized this was the best opportunity she was going to get to ask.
"Sylvia," Hermione said, turning to her. "Could you get me an Unspeakable's cloak?"
Sylvia slowly looked over at Hermione, her gaze scrutinizing.
"No," she said finally. "I could not."
Hermione's face fell.
"But," Sylvia went on, eyes gleaming, "I will trade you for the spell that we put on the Unspeakable cloaks – the one that makes us unrecognizable as Unspeakables."
"It's a spell?" For some reason, Hermione had presumed it was magic woven into the fabric of the cloaks, or a potion the cloaks were soaked in, not a spell cast on the cloaks themselves. "What do you want in exchange?"
Sylvia considered. "…Have you any… you know… left?"
She didn't say Elixir of Life aloud, merely giving her a significant look, but Hermione understood all the same.
"Not much," Hermione cautioned. "But some."
"'Some' would be enough," Sylvia said, grinning wickedly. "I'll teach you the spell before you go, and you can owl me with a flask."
"Is that really safe?" Hermione asked incredulously. "It could be intercepted!"
"So could anything." Sylvia rolled her eyes. "If you enchant it to be an unbreakable flask, that's good enough for me. You've given no one any reason to suspect you of sending unusual things by mail so far, have you?"
Hermione thought back. "…no."
"Well, then." Sylvia's grin was nasty. "No time like the present."
Blaise continued ignoring Hermione throughout the week, to Hermione's anguish. She started sending him small notes in classes, each saying she was sorry. She sent small, subtle butterflies and tiny parchment foxes running across the room each time, feeling worse each time as Blaise either caught a butterfly or swept up a fox and didn't open the note, instead stuffing them into his bag without so much as glancing her way.
She wrote Blaise a large letter, a full foot and a half apologizing, explaining her thought process at the time, how she realized how dangerous she had been, and promising she wouldn't be so careless again. Blaise hadn't done more than glance at the fox crest sealing the scroll before stuffing it into his bag, wrinkling it, and Hermine had blinked rapidly as she stared at her breakfast, fighting back tears.
The issue was, Hermione had no idea how to make up with Blaise. She was genuinely sorry, but he didn't seem to want to hear it. And with him not speaking to her, she had no idea how to atone for her misdeed to make it up to him. But she missed her best friend dearly. The days just weren't as bright without him at her side.
When double Potions came on Friday afternoon, Hermione pulled Theo aside before class.
"Let me partner Blaise?" she ventured, biting her lip. "You can pair with Daphne one class, right?"
Theo gave her a skeptical look.
"This isn't going to go the way you want it to," he warned her. "If he's not ready to forgive you, he's not ready."
Hermione looked at him, her big eyes pleading, and with a sigh, Theo gave in, moving to intercept Daphne before she entered class.
Blaise didn't react when Hermione began setting up her cauldron next to his, and he didn't so much as look at her before Snape strode into the classroom, waving his wand at the board.
"Weedosoros is one of the most potent poisons known to wizardkind," he began. "We will begin brewing this in preparation of learning antidotes, dissecting the composition of poisons along the way." He gave them all a sharp look. "Take great care to keep this concoction away from your hands and mouth. And if you do end up ingesting some, get to the Hospital Wing without delay." He sneered. "The rest of us shouldn't have to be bothered with your convulsing."
Half the lesson was a lecture on the components that went into the potion, and it was only in the second half of the lesson that they began preparing to brew. While Blaise had ignored Hermione in the first part of the class as everyone took notes, he was forced to interact with her as they divided up the ingredients to set about brewing their poison, though he continued to refuse eye contact.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Blaise hissed.
"What? No!" Hermione objected.
"You're being careless while chopping the weed of sorrows," Blaise said curtly. "You just heard Snape's lecture on what happens if you're exposed to its juices directly."
Hermione looked down at her cutting board, astonished.
"I'm wearing dragon-hide gloves and using the exact technique he told us to," she protested. "I'm not being careless at all!"
Blaise sneered. "I'm sure that's what you think."
He continued throughout class, criticizing her handling of the aconite, making snide remarks about how she chopped the milk thistle, and outright snapped at her as she reached for the gympie achenes.
"What are you doing?"
"Ah—I was going to juice the achenes…?"
"Without your gloves?" Blaise said curtly. "Did you pay attention at all when Snape warned us of the stinging hairs?"
"Yes, I did," Hermione insisted hotly. "But it's more dangerous to wear gloves while using a mortar and pestle – it's easier to drop everything or slip—"
"Oh, just give it here," Blaise snapped, snatching the bowl from her. "I'd rather not risk my grade because you decided to be careless about things."
"I'm not being careless!" Hermione protested, nearly in tears. "I was trying to protect you – if I mess up and get any stinging hairs on my skin, I can burn them off quickly, before I—"
"Oh, so now your plan would be to burn yourself and cauterize your nerves? Instead of just being careful for once in your life?"
"I—"
There was a loud splash from her left, and Hermione whirled around to see Pansy shrieking.
"Professor! Weasley shoved a bezoar in my potion and splashed me!"
"I did not!" Ron said immediately.
"Hospital Wing, Parkinson," Snape drawled. "Did I not warn you about what to do if the potion touched your skin?"
Pansy was quick to stand up. "He splashed Hermione, too—"
"Hospital Wing, Granger."
Pansy grabbed Hermione's hand and bodily tugged her out of the room, barely leaving a moment for Hermione to grab her school bag. She glanced back as Pansy hauled her out of the room, getting a glimpse of Blaise staring stonily down at his ingredients while Snape swept over to Pansy's abandoned cauldron.
"Now what, Mister Weasley, made you think this potion would be a wise one to sabotage—?"
The door closed behind them, and Pansy yanked Hermione along the hallway and up the stairs until they came to the Entrance Hall. She shoved her onto a stone bench, and Hermione fell onto it, looking up at her, and Pansy's face softened.
"I couldn't take another moment of his cruelty," Pansy told her, sitting down next to her. "I don't know what his problem is. I didn't get splashed – you didn't either, though you know that - but it was clear you needed an out."
"Pansy…" Hermione felt her heart swell with emotion, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I know, I know." Pansy's words were wry, but her tone was gentle. "No one's here to watch. Go ahead and let it all out."
Hermione had never expected to end up crying into Pansy Parkinson's shoulder in the middle of the Entrance Hall, Pansy gently stroking her back, but somehow, here she was.