Draco resumed his classes the next Monday, perfectly fine and as snobbish as ever, and the rumor mill finally began to die down. The Slytherins stopped giving her suspicious looks as well after Draco loudly addressed her in front of everyone in the middle of the common room, treating her like an equal to make a statement to them all.
Hermione appreciated the gesture, though she wished it wasn't needed all the same.
Harry, Neville, and Ron meanwhile despaired of Draco's return to classes, which they informed her of in the library that night.
"I mean, if he was going to get sick, couldn't he have gotten really sick?" Ron whined. "Keep him out of our hair for a solid month or two?"
"Or during Quidditch," Harry added. "I don't know how we're going to beat Slytherin on those Nimbus 2001s."
Hermione shrugged. "Try harder? Practice more? Play better? Fly faster?"
"They've just got the faster brooms," Harry sighed. "We can't make ours go any faster, no matter our skill."
Hermione's eyes sparkled. "You could just lose," she suggested.
"Never." Harry shot her a look, but he was grinning.
"Slimy Slytherin," he teased.
"Goody-goody Gryffindor," Hermione shot back, smirking.
Ron watched on in confusion.
"I thought we weren't allowed to call her that anymore?" he said, frowning.
"You're not allowed to call her that," Neville corrected. "You're not allowed to be rude or mean to her anymore, remember?" He turned to give Hermione a tentative smile. "But from me or Harry, Hermione knows it's teasing. It's almost affectionate."
Ron grumbled something and settled back down, but Hermione's eyes widened.
Had Harry and Neville actually sat Ron down and had a talk with him?
Ron had been more polite to her than usual, and his sniping about Slytherins had dramatically cut down in her presence. Had Harry and Neville actually confronted Ron on her behalf…?
"I don't understand how we're supposed to get two feet on lacewing flies," Neville said, sighing and running a hand through his hair as he stared at his essay. "I'm hopeless at Potions."
"You and me both," Ron grumbled. "They're flies. Their wings are like lace. You chuck them in a cauldron. What else do you need to know?"
"How they're prepared and the subtypes, probably," Hermione said, scanning a book for her own essay. "They can be stewed, they can be shredded and boiled, there are different patterns of lace on their wings…"
"Different lace patterns?" Neville's eyes grew huge. "Oh, no! Does that matter?"
"I have no idea," Hermione admitted. "But it might."
Harry frowned. "I think Hermione's right. Unless Snape wants us to go into the life cycle of a fly like this is Biology class or something, it's probably got to be the preparation methods and types of flies, right? He did say we'd be using delicate lacewing flies on Friday…"
"Oi, what's Biology?" Ron wanted to know.
They finished up their essays, quietly all working together in the back of the library to avoid Madam Pince's unforgiving eye. Hermione glanced up at Ron at one point, who was scribbling furiously, scowling at his scroll. Harry looked up, met her eye, and offered her a smile, one which Hermione returned before they both looked back to their parchments.
Had Harry and Neville admonished Ron on her behalf…?
The thought warmed her heart.
"It's here!" Daphne was bouncing where she stood, anxiously playing with her hands. "It's here, it's here, it's here!"
"Yes, it's here, it's here," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and pulling free the letter attached to the large package.
Dear Hermione,
I forwarded Mrs. Dursley's order to her as requested. The rest of it is all here. Vinegar helped dissolve the labels, but again – if you can find a way to magic them off, or a magic device that I could use to get them off, I could get all this to you much quicker.
The Gringotts goblins are beginning to recognize me. This is the fourth time I've been in there to change money from gold coins to pounds for you. I think they can tell I'm non-magical, despite the robes. No one else in Diagon Alley seems to notice. The goblins are polite(ish?), at any rate, though I really wish they wouldn't show quite so many pointy teeth when they smile! It makes me want to offer them free cleanings, and I suspect they would probably take offense.
Do keep us appraised of what's going on with you at school. Your letters are always a joy to read, and your father and I look forward to each one.
Much love,
Mum
Hermione smiled and tucked the letter away, finally turning to the large box. It'd taken four owls to bring.
"Tracey…" Hermione said, handing Tracey her pack. "Millie… Pansy…"
Tracey and Millie were obviously excited, and even Pansy took her things gracefully, with a simple 'thank you' and a nod of her head.
"These are for Jade… and finally… Daphne."
Hermione pushed the box at Daphne, still a good two-thirds full. Daphne took it and nearly staggered under the weight, but she managed to get it over to her bed. She excitedly began going through it, sorting out her own things from those her mother had ordered, Pansy murmuring and helping.
"Hermione?"
Hermione turned to Millie, who was playing with a concealer in her hand. "Yes?"
"Can we… if there's someone we know really well, is it okay if we tell them what's going on here?" she asked. "I've known Susan Bones since I was five – she's in our year, in Hufflepuff – and she asked how I've been hiding my spots. Hannah and Eloise have been asking too…"
Hermione considered.
"Hufflepuffs are known for their loyalty, yes?" she said aloud.
"Hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play," Tracey recited. She caught Pansy's sharp look and flushed. "What?" she said defensively. "I read up on all the housees before I was sorted."
Pansy scoffed but said nothing, turning back to continue sorting with Daphne.
"If they promise not to tell…" Hermione said, trailing off.
"I'm sure they wouldn't!" Millie encouraged Hermione. "They're lovely girls, really."
"…then I guess it'd be alright," Hermione said, with a sigh. "But they have to come here to look at it and order things. I'll not have my sheets going around the school. That's just begging to be caught out."
"Hufflepuffs in the Slytherin common rooms?" Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Really?"
"No worse than a part troll," Tracey said snidely, and Pansy flushed a mottled red.
"Now, now, let's be nice to Pansy," Hermione admonished lightly. "After all, one can't help their heritage or what blood they're born with. And Pansy's certainly proving herself to be a somewhat capable witch."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "I suppose."
Hermione caught Pansy shooting her a look, and Hermione raised an eyebrow lazily, challenging. Pansy continued to look suspicious of her but eventually went back to helping Daphne sort out what all her mother had bought versus what all Daphne had purchased.
Hermione smiled to herself, watching.
Pansy hadn't objected that she wasn't part troll. Hermione wondered if Pansy actually believed it. It didn't hurt anyone or anything, if she did, after all.
And it might help her get over this ridiculous blood prejudice thing sooner, too.
