Hermione awoke with a start. The watch on her bedside table told her she was running late. She hurried to get ready and made her way down to the common room intent on getting to breakfast, getting her timetable and getting to class. Instead, she was ambushed by an agitated Harry, with Ron in tow.
Harry began to recount the conversation he had overheard between the Slytherins on the Hogwarts Express. Harry told her Malfoy had enquired about who had been invited to the Slug-club meeting. He said Zambini had seemed to think Malfoy and Nott were excluded because of their Death Eater fathers. Harry stressed that Malfoy had said he may not be at Hogwarts next year and that Voldemort was going to be victorious. Ron interjected, suggesting that Malfoy was just showing off for Pansy. Hermione wasn't sure. She wondered whether Malfoy really needed to show off in front of Pansy - it already seemed as though he was getting what he wanted from her right? She frowned.
"I don't know … it would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important than he is … but that's a big lie to tell …"
"Exactly", said Harry, though he trailed off as the three of them realised a number of people in the common room seemed intent on listening in to their conversation. They queued to climb out of the portrait hole.
"I love being a sixth year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax", said Ron excitedly. Hermione was indeed looking forward to the free periods, but not for relaxing. Their workload was only going to get busier with sixth year N.E. and they were going to need that time to study. She told him so. They made their way down the corridor and Hermione stopped to confiscate a Fanged Frisbee from a fourth year. The student scowled at her but quickly ran off with his friends. Ron waited for him to be out of sight then tugged the green disc away from Hermione.
"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."
Ron was always determined to keep the things she and him confiscated. Notoriously, the items he kept found their way back into the hands of other students, and that was dangerous. Almost as if that was the point of confiscating it, thought Hermione sarcastically. She began to lecture him but was drowned out by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown. Her twinkling laugh echoed as she walked past the trio giving Ron a sweet glance over her shoulder. Hermione looked at Ron who looked awfully pleased with himself. She wanted to whack him.
Lavender brown was one of the girls who Hermione shared a dormitory with. In fact, Lavender brown was the reason Hermione had once successfully cast a non-verbal spell. One evening, Hermione had been desperately trying to revise before a test the next day. It had been late and she was no longer able to stay in the library so had taken her revision to bed.
Even with her curtains drawn she could not drown out the noise of Lavender and Pavarti prattling on about divination, and how beautiful they thought their teacher Firenze was. She hadn't known how to tell them to be quiet and didn't want to cast a silencing charm aloud for them to hear. But the more she tried to revise the more their chatter grated on her. Eventually, without meaning to, she had cast a non-verbalMuffliatocharm. She had been so surprised when she realised what she had done, without really meaning to. TheMuffliatocharm then allowed her to cast a silencing charm, out loud, around the curtains of her bed. Then, she had been able to revise in peace.
Hermione plopped down at the Gryffindor table and poured herself a cup of tea. As she stirred a teaspoon of sugar in, Harry and Ron told her about the embarrassing conversation they had had with Hagrid while she had been escorting the first years to their dormitories the night before. Hermione felt terrible for Hagrid. She knew few students would be keen on taking Care of Magical Creatures as a N.E.W.T subject. In truth, she'd never considered it, and she enjoyed most school subjects. Hagrid, though knowledgeable, just was not a proficient teacher.
Still half listening to Harry and Ron, Hermione looked up at the ceiling, it was a brilliant blue with little wispy clouds floating between the candles. Perhaps she would take her free period outside by the lake. It might be nice to work on her studies out in the sun. When she drew her gaze back to her breakfast her eyes snagged on steely grey ones across the hall.
The tiniest of smirks played about Malfoy's lips. But Hermione thought his eyes looked flat. She fiddled with the handle of her teacup but did not look away. She watched as Pansy lent over to whisper something in Malfoy's ear and he raised his eyebrows slightly and said something in return, but his gaze didn't falter. Even across the tables in the Great Hall, his stare felt penetrating. Hermione knew she should look away, but she couldn't. The noise of room seemed to fade away, Hermione frowned at him, he stared back.
Finally, Malfoy averted his eyes and looked up to the ceiling when Zambini started talking to him. Hermione looked back to the table. Clocking Hermione's return to the conversation, Ron looked over his shoulder where Hermione had been staring and quickly looked back. Ron gave her a concerned look.
"Well, how did it go?" He asked.
"How did what go?" Harry interrupted.
"Hermione had prefect duty with Malfoy last night. It's part of McGonagall's new patrol system", explained Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. Harry looked aghast - presumably about Malfoy and not the egg.
"But that's crazy, Malfoy could hurt someone!" Exclaimed Harry. Hermione gave him an imploring look to be quiet. She chanced a peek at Malfoy, but he was still talking to Zambini.
"It was fine", she insisted.
She didn't know what to tell Harry and Ron about it. Did she tell them how he left her for forty minutes to disappear into the Slytherin common room? Or him quotingHogwarts: A Historyat her, or that he'd offered to speak to Filch alone so she could go upstairs and read? Or that he had fucked Pansy in the library?
"He was just, normal Malfoy", she settled on.
"Oh, so he called you a mudblood and threatened you!" Said Harry.
"No!" She protested loudly. Then more quietly, "he called me a prat and prissy, but he didn't call me a Mudblood". Harry looked doubtful.
Further conversation on the matter was interrupted by Professor McGonagall descending from the staff table to hand out timetables. Hermione was thankful for the interruption. Cleared to continue with Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions she picked up her bag and raced off to a first-period Ancient Runes class, cursing herself for not reading more last night. Even with free periods she was itching for a time-turner.
Hermione's Ancient Runes class was composed mainly of Ravenclaws. In fact, Hermione was the only Gryffindor in her sixth and seventh year composite class. She was looking forward to her N.E. Ancient Runes classes. Fifth years had separate classes where they covered the basics of Ancient Runes in preparation for O. . However, so few students got the required "Exceeds Expectations" to continue with the subject at a N.E. level. It would be interesting to learn alongside the seventh years.
Professor Babbling sat at her desk. She was a thin, auburn-hair witch with thin browns, thin lips and a thick Irish accent. Hermione looked around the classroom as she entered. There were two longer tables instead of the usual arrangement of desks. It seemed that seventh years occupied one table and sixth years the other. Hermione looked at the sixth year table: Mandy Brocklehurt, Anthony Goldstein, Daniel Puckett, all Ravenclaws, as well as Nadia Cross, a Hufflepuff, were seated there. She was taken aback to see that even Theodore Nott, a Slytherin, was seated at the end of the sixth year table. She supposed there were no other sixth year Slytherins for him to buddy up with. Unsurprisingly, the seat between Goldstein and Nott was the last one unoccupied. She sat down.
Professor Babbling called attention to the front of the class. She levitated piles of parchment through the room dropping them down in front of each student. The Professor explained that N.E.W.T level Ancient Runes would focus on translation and application. For the sixth years she assigned a reading list, a 15-inch essay on the anglo-saxon rune "cweorth", and two translations. Hermione heard Nott groan beside her as he began flipping through the pile of paper in front of him.
Professor Babbling seated herself at the 7th year table and began to outline the research and translation project the seventh years would do as in addition to their N.E. curriculum. Hermione was keen to listen in and learn more about what she would be doing the following year, perhaps even get a head start on it, but her eavesdropping was interrupted.
"I'm beginning to think I should not have tried so hard on my Ancient Runes O.W.L", said Nott, opening a heavy tome. Hermione looked away from the seventh year table. Nott had never spoken to her before. Last year there had been other Slytherins in the Ancient Rune class they shared. She looked down the table where the three Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuff were engaged in a debate about the longevity of Germanic Runes compared to those of Norse origin.
"Are you talking to me?" Hermione asked, turning her attention back to Nott. He looked sideways at her.
"That is generally what it means when someone says words clearly audible to another person with whom they are in close proximity", he said with feigned seriousness. Hermione looked at him blankly, waiting for the insults to begin. He laughed. Hermione frowned at him. He made a placating expression, then paused.
"Theodore", he said, extending his hand to Hermione. She regarded him sceptically. In truth, Nott usually wasn't the one hurling insults. That was more Malfoy and Parkinson's thing, but he would be there laughing along. This bout of politeness was extremely atypical.
"Hermione", she said, shaking his hand. Was his palm a bit sweaty?
"Listen, Gran-, err, Hermione. Last year my friends and I would work on Translations together, you know, because they can be so subjective, and it's helpful to bounce ideas around. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to do that with me?" He gestured to the other group at the table. "Because we're kind of the odd-ones out."
Hermione looked back at the group. Everyone knew Hermione was clever. She was always ready to speak up in class when she knew an answer. For the subjects that most students took: Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, people often wanted her help. But in her electives, especially those like Ancient Runes, which were filled with the brightest students, she more often than not found herself alone. Indeed, last year she had spent many late nights trying to translate runes with only Crookshanks for company. Whilst he was an intelligent cat, he wasn't much help. She looked back at the Slytherin boy, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in what she thought might be nervousness.
"Sure", she agreed measuredly. He smiled.
Nott talked her ear off about the two translations they needed to complete until the end of class. He was animated, and knowledgeable and even though he was clearly a talker, when Hermione spoke up he listened. The two of them agreed to meet the next evening to begin work.
Hermione walked to Defence Against the Dark Arts in something of a fugue state. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to Harry or Ron. They would be furious. Perhaps she could sell it to them as an inside job type thing. Nott's father, like Malfoy, was a confirmed Death Eater. It seemed completely incredulous that he would ask to study with her.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had seen many iterations of witch and wizard and whilst Hermione preferred the gloominess of Snape's decor choices to the pink kittens of Umbridge she thought she could do without the gruesome paintings on the walls. She went to take her book from her bag.
"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy ofConfronting the Facelessback into her bag and stowed it under her chair.
"I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."
Snape waxed on about their previous instruction in Defence Against the Dark Arts emphasising the varied nature of the Dark Arts and how one's defences must be flexible. As he lectured, Hermione was transported to their lessons in Dumbledore's Army. How Harry had described coming face-to-face with dark magic. Hermione shivered as images from the Department of Mysteries flashed in her mind. The blinding flash of purple coming from Dolohov's wand and hitting her squarely in the chest. It had been so cold, the dark magic, and it had felt like it spread through her like worms. She gripped the edge of her desk and tried to steady her breathing. Parvati's high pitched voice came from beside her, pulling her out of her rumination.
"Has an Inferius been seen, then?"
Professor Snape merely replied that it was a possibility. Hermione felt sick, but he continued on. She tried to refocus. He was asking what the advantages of non-verbal spells were. Hermione's hand shot into the air. She watched Professor Snape look around the classroom; seeing if anyone else would answer. She hated when he did this. Hermione thought it was hypocritical of Snape to try to make her feel small for knowing the answer. She could only imagine what he might have been like at school.
"Very well - Miss Granger?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she answered, "which gives you a split-second advantage." She wished she had perfected non-verbal spells before they had taken to the Ministry. Perhaps the outcome would have been better.
"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively, waving his hand as if he was swatting away a nuisance fly. She heard a snigger from behind her and turned her head - Malfoy. She shot him a glare. He raised his eyebrows at her.
Professor Snape instructed them to divide into pairs. Hermione turned to Pavarti but she was already making her way towards Lavender. When she turned the other way she could see Harry and Ron getting up to begin practising together. Hermione ended up partnering with Neville. She suggested he might use a Jelly-Legs Jinx for her to defend against. It seemed polite for her to be the defender in this case. After two rounds of Jelly-Legs Hermione pushed herself from the ground.
There was a lot of whispering in the room as people tried to make it appear that they were casting a spell non-verbally. Suddenly the classroom felt an awful lot like her dormitory with Lavender and Pavarti's incessant gossip. Hermione steadied herself and told Neville to go again. She pressed her lips together as Neville began the incantation in a whisper. Her wrist moved and she imagined in her mind's eye her shield charm emerging to protect her. She felt the crackle of magic down her arm and watched it release from her wand. Neville's face broke into a smile. She had done it!
"Well done Hermione!" Neville said. She returned his smile. Her satisfaction at being the first in the class to cast a non-verbal spell was short-lived. There was a commotion at the other end of the room where Harry had cast a strongProtegocharm while Professor Snape attempted to demonstrate non-verbal magic. Snape was thrown back against the bookshelves.
"Do you remember me telling you we are practising nonverbal spells, Potter?" Snape spat, after righting himself.
"Yes," said Harry stiffly.
"Yes, sir."
"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor." Said Harry casually. Several people gasped, including Hermione.
Hermione, Harry and Ron were seated on the grass of the Transfiguration courtyard. They were talking over the events in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron told Harry that he was brilliant for talking back to Snape. Hermione disagreed. Why Harry always felt it was necessary to rile up Snape she had no idea.
"You really shouldn't have said it," said Hermione, frowning at Harry.
"What made you?"
"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry.
"I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them!" Harry threw his arms up.
"Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."
"Like me?"
"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorising a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?" She meant it too. Harry was a great teacher, and so was Professor Snape. Sure, he was not a good person. He was cruel and callous, but there was something to be learned from him. She wished Harry could see that there was something to be gained from listening to him. But then again, she hadn't been present at his Occlumency lessons with Snape. They sounded horrible. Harry looked at Hermione with a kind of dazed awe.
"Harry! Hey, Harry!"
Harry's attention was diverted to a fourth year asking something about Quidditch. Hermione gazed across the quad. For the second time today her eyes met stormy grey ones. Malfoy was sitting on the grass next to Nott, both of them leaning against the balustrade that formed a perimeter around the courtyard. He idly spun his wand around his fingers. Malfoy didn't look away when she gazed at him. They held each other's stare, though Malfoy and Nott kept talking. Eventually, Theodore looked in Hermione's direction as well. He gave her a smile. He leaned towards Malfoy and said something that caused the blonde haired wizard to throw his head back in laughter. She took the opportunity to look away.
Hermione's nose was affronted by smells when the three of them entered the potion's classroom. Each filing into the room past a bench with an assortment of bubbling cauldrons Hermione, Ron and Harry joined a table with Ernie MacMillan. She wasn't surprised that the N.E. potion class was so small. There were four Ravenclaws, four Slytherins, the three of them and Ernie. Professor Snape was a difficult teacher. She hoped Slughorn would be an improvement.
Slughorn entered the classroom from his office and greeted Harry and Zambini with particular enthusiasm. She supposed it was better than the treatment Harry usually received from Snape. Whilst Harry and Ron explained their lack of textbook and ingredients to Slughorn, Hermione found herself taking in the smell of the room. They were seated closest to a gold Cauldron that contained a pearly-white liquid. She watched the steam spiral off it.Amortentiashe realised. Hermione tried to slow her breathing, she didn't want to know what most attracted her. She had a sneaking suspicion anyway and he was currently scrambling with Harry amongst the potion cupboard, making a racket.
"Now then," began Slughorn, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?" Hermione eyed the Cauldron closest to the Slytherins. A clear potion, with no smell. She raised her hand.
"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione. Members of the DA were all too familiar with this potion.
"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can - ?" This one was slow and bubbling, thick like mud, and made Hermione's stomach turn. Her hand shot up.
"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said. If she never took polyjuice again, it would be too soon. She could almost feel whiskers sprouting from her cheeks.
"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here, Hermione's hand shot up again, "yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused.
"It's Amortentia!" She had already worked that one out.
"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"
"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" she answered.
"and it's supposed to smell differently to each person according to what attracts us, for example, I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and -" Oh.Oh.Hermione trailed off and she felt herself go pink. She went to look away but her gaze was once again snagged by cold, grey eyes. Malfoy was staring at her. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed. She watched as his shoulders rose with a large inhale through his nose.
'May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, snapping Hermione's attention away.
"Hermione Granger, sir." She answered, thankful for the interruption.
"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?" Asked Slughorn, becoming increasingly animated. Hermione winced.
"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see." She clarified. Hermione thought she heard sniggering from the Slytherin table but kept her attention on Slughorn, who turned to beam at Harry.
"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry.
"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially. Hermione beamed. She turned to Harry and whispered.
"Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!" Harry grinned broadly at her.
"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year - I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!" Hermione gave him a smile too. She wasn't sure that was the truth. Slughorn was speaking again, so she shushed Ron, who made a disgruntled noise.
Slughorn explained that the student who produced the best Draught of Living Death within the next hour would win the final potion bubbling away in a small cauldron: Felix Felicis, a small phial, enough for twelve hours of luck. Hermione was determined to win the phial. Who knew when they might need a few lucky hours. She could hardly rely on Harry or Ron to win the phial. They were not bad at potions per say, but the Ravenclaws and Slytherins nearly always outperformed them.
She pulled out her copy of advanced potion making. She opened to page ten.Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion. Hermione surveyed the instructions; stewed salt, a tilt addition manoeuvre, and the typical stirring pattern for potions with somnolent effects; this should be doable, though somewhat time constrained by the hour. She would have to work quickly.
The classroom was near silent save for the little noises of students cutting up ingredients or stirring their cauldrons. While her salt and water mixture rested she looked up to see Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Seems Malfoy was in need of a lucky day. Hermione smiled to herself - he should be easy enough to beat.
She set to slicing up her Valerian root. Very soon, the entire dungeon was full of blueish steam. The blackcurrant liquid in Hermione's cauldron bubbled away. She carefully poured the Sopophorous bean's juice into her mixture, added ten drops from the beaker and began stirring clockwise. Seven, eight, nine, the potion should be changing colour by now. Hermione frowned. She looked over the instructions again, then back to her cauldron. It didn't make sense.
"Can I borrow your silver knife?" Harry interrupted her thoughts. She nodded at him impatiently and began recounting her ingredients, perhaps she had forgotten to add something. Hermione checked once and then again. No, she had added everything she meant to. She looked up in frustration. The pale pink potion in Harry's cauldron caught her eye.
How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione.
"Add a clockwise stir -" She cut him off.
"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" she snapped. Hermione looked back atAdvanced Potion Making. She could fix this, perhaps she just needed to continue through the steps. Hermione added her Valerian root to no avail. At first she thought the potion began to lighten but as she continued to stir, the potion remained decidedly not pale pink.
"And time's . . . up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"
Hermione huffed and pushed her curls off her face. She stood back from her cauldron as Slughorn moved slowly between each of the tables. When he came to Hermione's cauldron he gave an approving nod. She relaxed a little but then Slughorn proceeded to Harry's cauldron. The professor smiled broadly as he peered into the concoction.
"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry!"
Slughorn waxed poetically about Harry's talent and Hermione had to look away. She gazed towards the Slytherin table, they all looked furious, none more so than Malfoy. Hermione packed up in silence, unable to look at Harry or Ron, or anyone else for that matter.
Hermione picked over her food as Harry explained to her and Ron how he had pulled off such a good Draught of Living Death. He pointed to the inky margins of his borrowed copy ofAdvanced Potion Making. He showed them the note that said to include a clockwise stir after each seventh counterclockwise stir. Hermione frowned.
Harry asked her if she thought he had cheated. Well it had not really been his work had it? The instructions in the book were there for a reason, Slughorn would have selected the textbook for a reason. She told him so. He disagreed. Any further argument was derailed by the arrival of Ginny. Upon overhearing the conversation, Ginny made the excellent point that it was not wise to trust strange notes written in books. Hermione watched Harry wince as he realised why this would make Ginny so distressed - Riddle's diary. It was something Hermione had not even considered. While Harry apologised and reassured Ginny, Hermione acted.
In a rare moment of quick reflexes she pulled the book away from Harry. She touched her wand to the cover and spoke.
"Specialis Revelio!" Nothing happened, to both her relief and disappointment. She let out a sigh. Harry snatched the book back from her, asking her is she was satisfied. She was not. Hermione was still unhappy with the book, but arguing with Harry was impossible. Ron, Harry and Ginny began to talk about Quidditch try-outs, since Harry was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year. Hermione went back to picking at her food.
Soon dinner would be over and she would be able to go to the library. It would be easy to excuse herself; Harry and Ron would not be interested in doing homework after their first day of classes. Especially since they had already worked on Snape's essays during their free periods, with her help of course. It would be nice to focus on her studies by herself for a few hours.
"Miss Granger," Hermione looked up from her plate.
"Hello, Professor", she said. McGonagall was wearing green velvet robes, a golden broach at her neck, her witch's hat elegantly placed upon her head. Not a hair out of place at the end of a long day.
"Could you please come to my office after supper, there is something I wish to discuss with you", McGonagall requested. Hermione frowned, she was unsure what McGonagall would want to discuss with her, if it was related to their prefect duties surely she would have asked Ron as well.
"Of course, Professor", Hermione said. McGonagall gave a curt nod to the group and strode away down the length of the table and from the hall.
Ron, Harry, and Ginny animatedly talked Quidditch for the rest of dinner. Hermione excused herself when other students began to move out of the hall. She told them she would head to the library after she saw McGonagall.
"Are you sure Hermione? It's only the first day", whined Ginny. Hermione gave her a tentative smile.
"If any of you took ancient runes you'd understand. I'll see you later", she said and waved as she walked away.
Professor McGonagall sat behind her imposing mahogany desk. The desk itself was intricately carved. Hermione studied the winding stems of thistle that were whittled into the woodwork. They seemed to flutter as if a soft breeze was blowing them. The only sound in the room was McGonagall scratching away on some parchment.
Hermione fiddled with the clasp on her bag. With a last determined stroke of her hand Professor McGonagall set the quill down. The older witch sat upright in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. Hermione was suddenly much more nervous.
"Miss Granger, I have a favour to ask of you", she said measuredly.
"Of course Professor, what is it?" said Hermione quickly. McGonagall raised a hand.
"I believe you will want to hear what I am asking before you agree", she said, with the slightest admonishment. Hermione blushed, and nodded.
"There is a complication with the prefect patrol roster", she said, indicating to a parchment on her desk that had a detailed calendar on it.
"I am having difficulty assigning a patrol partner to Mr Malfoy. A number of the prefects have refused to be partnered with him", she paused, and gave a small sigh, "and those who have volunteered seem entirely too … enthusiastic", she shook her head. McGonagall seemed keenly aware of the shortcomings of her own house. Gryffindors with boundless courage and a propensity for being brutish. Even if they were prefects, the opportunity to antagonise Malfoy one-on-one might be all too alluring. Hermione winced. She was fairly sure she knew where this conversation was heading.
"I trust this information will be kept between us", continued McGonagall, "I will not assign patrol duty with Mr Malfoy to students who have requested not to be paired with him. However I cannot in good conscience assign him to patrol with students whom I suspect may have ill-intentions towards him either", she said sternly. Hermione felt like her lungs had stopped working. McGonagall meant to ask her to be permanently paired with Malfoy for prefect duty. She looked at the older witch blankly. The air in the room felt warm and sticky against the back of her neck.
"These are unforeseen circumstances and you are my most trustworthy student. If you are amenable, I would request that I permanently schedule yourself and Mr Malfoy together for prefect patrols".
Hermione's stomach rolled. Her hand squeezed the strap of her satchel. She did not want to be paired with Malfoy. Sure, a few times a year would be bearable. But every time? All the events of the evening before flashed through her mind. The entrance hall, him leaving her for forty minutes on the bench outside the Slytherin common room, the library. She thought she could feel the ghost of his hand on her wrist.
"Okay", Hermione said. Professor McGonagall gave a nod. She scribbled on the parchment in front of her.
"I appreciate this, Miss Granger". She said, peering over her spectacles. Hermione began to get up from the seat and head for the door. Professor McGonagall interrupted her.
"Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy is allocated to prefect duty tonight, as punishment for skipping his duties on the train. This means you are also rostered on tonight. The roster will be finalised tomorrow and I will ensure you are not rostered again for the maximum time possible", Hermione blanched. Prefect duty again tonight, and with Malfoy. She took a moment to look down at her hands which were knotted in her the strap of her bag.
"Yes, Professor", she said, finally meeting the elder witch's gaze.
"Thank you, Miss Granger, you may go", said McGonagall.
The door to McGonagall's office clicked behind her. Hermione looked at her watch. She would barely have time to get into her homework before she would be required for prefect patrol. She sighed. Putting the heel of her palms to her eyes did nothing to quell her brewing headache. She headed for the Entrance Hall.
