A/N: thank you for your patience, real life is very demanding and my writing time has lessened, but I'm still working away. Never fear though, this story WILL NEVER be abandoned! I love it too much and really enjoy writing it and playing in this sandbox. Thank you for all your reviews, follows and faves... you are all truly wonderful and make my writer heart full!
Legal: I own nothing but the plot, and am thankful I get to play in this world created by J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 19
Hermione dragged herself down to breakfast with Ginny and Neville, the two of whom were locked in a heated debate about a recent shakeup to a Quidditch team somewhere in Europe.
Apparently, whatever it was, had caused a major stir and outrage amongst fans throughout the Wizarding world, such was the far reaching impact of whatever trade or decision had occurred.
Hermione couldn't be arsed to care, nor pay more attention than what she'd already been subjected to by proxy.
As they flopped down upon the benches near the rear of the Gryffindor table, Hermione surreptitiously scoped out the Great Hall, tamping down her disappointment when she failed to see Theo or his mates.
'Must have been a long night, guess they slept in.' She thought before tucking into her porridge and cream.
So engrossed was she in her meal and reading the daily prophet that had arrived shortly after she'd sat down—discovering Parkinson's father had been arrested the day before—that she jolted in surprise when she finally lifted her head and gazed across the hall.
She noticed him and his lot huddled together around the Slytherin table immediately, her eyes drawn first to him, then to Parkinson.
Their faces were placid, not a hint as to the news and provoking photo splashed across the front page, nor as to what had occurred the night prior.
If she hadn't been witness, hell, if she hadn't been the bloody catalyst, she would be none the wiser about the air of subtle seriousness that hovered over her fellow classmates.
To most, it appeared just business as usual at the Slytherin table.
Hermione watched in perplexed fascination as suddenly all the eyes of those facing her turned upon her, catching her in her own observations and pinning her with their directness.
She lowered her eyes a fraction too slow; witnessing varying expressions flit across her classmates faces.
Most confused her, but Theo's sent little shivers of warmth down her spine.
A flurry of words—whispered with minimal movement through taut lips—were volleyed around before Parkinson stood up abruptly.
As Hermione watched through her peripheral vision, Parkinson shook out her robe with a graceful snap of her wrist, and delicately dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, removing errant bits of crumpet and orange marmalade before tossing it back down onto her plate.
"Why's Parkinson staring at you like that?" Neville asked Hermione, as Parkinson wove her way toward them.
Neville displayed his cautious reservations of the Slytherin's approach through the manner in which he gripped his utensils, but thankfully his face showed no outward acridness or hostility.
Ginny, Hermione was pleased to see, looked almost… optimistically anticipatory.
Only Ginny was aware of the…incident, the night before, having been somewhat filled in by Hermione when she'd returned from Mertyl's bathroom.
"Mmmmm." She murmured, preferring not to disclose her assumption of why she was being sought out. "We'll soon find out," Hermione whispered, smiling at Neville softly, hoping to put his defenses at ease.
"Granger," Parkinson said, standing beside the Gryffindor bench with a poise Hermione envied.
"Parkinson, good morning." Hermione returned, arranging her features into nothing but polite pleasantry.
She wasn't sure which direction the interaction would traverse, so kept the warm, benign smile upon her lips as a placating measure.
She became dimly aware that all sound had extinguished itself in the great hall.
It appeared the room was poised with bated breathes to see what was to be said next.
The air was thickly wound with tension, so taut it felt physically charged and ready to snap.
When Parkinson held out her hand, a collective intake of breath echoed around the hall, and from the corner of her eye she saw Neville's hand obviously twitch toward his wand.
Both she and Ginny rolled their eyes at him, and Parkinson spit out, "down, Longbottom. I come bearing gifts."
In her perfectly manicured, outstretched hand, was a book.
A very ancient book, judging by the cover and aged edges of the parchment.
"I thought you may have need of this edition," Pansy said, proffering the tome to Hermione. "I'm aware you're seeking additional information for your… project, some of which won't be found within these hallowed walls, ancient though they be."
She paused, then smirked, some of her previous pride shining through, "It's my own, personal copy Granger."
"Hermione," she said automatically, her eyes lifting from the book to lock with Parkinson's, "please."
"If you insist." Parkinson breathed out, rolling her eyes in a facsimile of boredom.
She raised her hand to brush a stray silky strand of hair away from her brow, her movements methodical. Silence stretched before she said, "well, I'm not horribly plebeian. You may call me Pansy."
Her lips twitched and curled slightly at the proclamation, almost as if she was…proud.
'Is she proud of…me?' Hermione pondered, eyeing the other witch. 'Why now, from what?'
She reached her hand out toward what looked to be… oh Merlin, it couldn't be!
Hermione let her fingers trail atop the cover, her eyes soaking up the letters and words that made up the title of a book she'd have never been able to access previously.
It's existence was a tightly guarded secret in their world, one only Pureblood's seemed to be aware of.
One she'd only stumbled upon by eavesdropping on Madam Prince giving Umbridge a tongue lashing for even asking about it back in fifth year.
After a nearly exhaustive search and perusal of the stacks to find a thing referencing this edition, Hermione had given into defeat, believing what she'd heard the librarian say about no copies existing past the purge of 1735.
PURE: Putus Umquam Repugno Exitium.* An English translation of The ancient rights and traditions of the Inverkeithing Coven and the Knights of Walpurgis, est. 1695.
Hermione couldn't believe Pansy Parkinson not only owned a copy, but was lending it to her.
Publicly at that.
She gapped at the witch in front of her, momentarily lost for words.
Ginny shook her head in disbelief, letting out a long, drawn out, piercing whistle.
"I didn't know any copies were left in existence..." She whispered reverently.
Her whistle and whisper were as indicative of the surprise gesture as they were to the rarity of the tome which was passing hands.
Nevilles's eyebrows rose as his eyes locked on the cover, his fringe all but hiding them as his eyes bulged comically.
"Thank you," Hermione's voice was soft but nevertheless carried over the stillness of the Great Hall. "This is… just, wow. I'm incredibly honored, Pansy."
Wrapping her fingers around the spine, she drew the book against her chest, the weight of its existence not apparent through its slightly diminutive physical size.
Pansy made no acknowledgment of her gratitude, as of the concept was beneath the gravitas of the moment.
Hermione's eyes flickered involuntarily toward where Pansy had ventured, locking with Theo's.
His smile—slight as it was—and the steadfastness of his gaze spoke volumes. Warmth spread from her cheeks down through her core at his visual embrace.
"All finished?" Pansy asked, nodding toward Hermione's plate; her typically clipped tones downplaying the vulnerability Hermione saw swimming in her eyes.
"Yes. Quite," Hermione replied pointedly, hoping the other witch would take her words to relate to more than just her breakfast.
She believed they were when Pansy's shoulders slackened slightly, as if a burden had been lifted. The tight lines around her eyes and lips softened somewhat to rest in a decidedly un-Pansylike neutrality.
Hermione downed the rest of her pumpkin juice, stood and hoisted her school bag upon her shoulder before turning to face her old… was enemy even the right term for what they'd been?
It was all so exhausting to think about at this point, and Hermione was done expending energy in that fashion.
She was acutely enjoying blurring the lines previously drawn in the sand of social discord and prejudice; relishing in the opportunity to begin to know the witch in front of her.
"Heading to Runes?" Hermione asked Pansy, angling her body toward the massive door leading from the room. She was rewarded when her classmate flashed the same flicker of expression as when she'd taken the book.
"Since we're going the same way…" Pansy trailed off and the two left the Great Hall amid whispers and nattering voices.
"We're going to be early," sighed Pansy. "I'm not a fan of early."
"Why's that?" Asked Hermione, who couldn't stand being late or even in time for anything.
Early was her norm.
Apparently she'd put her foot in it, judging by the look Pansy threw her. "For starters," the other witch began, "It's presumptive of both your own importance and of the person meeting you being free at your whims."
"Assumptions right up your alley," said Hermione without thinking, then felt her face flame as shame flooded her.
"I'm sor—"
"Oh please, it's called manners Gra—Hermione." Scoffed Pansy, then sighed as if the worlds burden lay upon her shoulders. "Right then. Theo mentioned you wanting to educate yourself on what it means to be Pureblood—not the physical genetics mind, but our culture, traditions and the inherent esteem surrounding the term."
She turned her head and speared Hermione with a look that stopped her mid step.
"Consider this your first foray into that knowledge. Manners, above all else, manners… or at least, the facsimile and perception of decorum. One of the first chapters in that covers not only the basics but all the tedious intricacies of manners in context."
Hermione held her tongue, not wanting to offend or damage the olive branch extended, but bursting with questions.
"Out with it Hermione, I can see you're almost boiling over with curiosity. Or something…" Pansy said as they continued up the steps to the North Tower.
"Right. Ok then." Hermione said, taking a deep breath before, "Ok, we'll. You say manners above all else yet you and your lot are abhorrent in your treatment of any you deem below you. Also, this book is ancient, does this mean the customs haven't changed since it's origin, making everything supremely antiquated in ideology. Or is this just the basis for what is embraced and carried forward today? And if deviations occur from this text to what is in vogue today, who makes those decisions to prune and nurture which customs? And is it only the sacred twenty-eight who have this control or is it the wizengamot or a combination?"
She paused, pleased and surprised she'd been allowed to voice all this without interruption. She lowered her voice, "and why did you give me such a priceless and rare artifact? Something that apparently is part of your family inheritance? Especially publicly?"
Hermione gazed at Pansy, sure her puzzlement about everything, but especially the last part, was tattooed clearly across her brow.
She felt her stomach plunge as she thought of something else. "Oh Merlin! Did Theo put you up this? Did he ask you to do this?"
"Oh Salazar, no," Pansy laughed and waved her hand, and the surprisingly genuine sound had Hermione's mouth twitching upward in response.
"He plays his cards close to his chest, that one. Wouldn't have dreamed asking something like this of anyone."
The witch purses her lips and said. "No, he'd mentioned offhand to Daphne and Draco about introducing you to our ways and I overheard. I wasn't thrilled at first…" she broke off and a slight blush stained her cheeks.
"I envisioned you stomping through our methodologies like a toddler in a field of dandelions, trampling on and obliterating them with nary a care as to the destruction left in your wake. All for the sake of justice or progress."
Hermione felt her ire rise at the assumption and made to interject, but Pansy continued.
"Last night showed me how wrong I was, how superficial and presumptive my own judgements were. Your discretion last night, your assistance when really, you could have told them to sod off, and your lack of hesitation to help despite our history… well… thank you. And…I wanted to return the favor in kind."
Hermione could only nod in surprise, tamping down her original ire before saying, "I'm sorry for upsetting you yesterday, truly. I don't know what about my comments triggered you so strongly but I felt horrid. I still do! I'm glad I was able to help them locate you, it was the least I could do. No one should wallow alone."
They'd reached the runes classroom, but by unspoken agreement didn't push on the door to enter the room.
They were still eight minutes early.
"I wasn't wallowing Granger," Pansy said.
"Hermione!" Hermione reminded her, and the other witch huffed.
"I wasn't wallowing, Hermione. I was…" her voice dropped to a strained whisper. "Reliving. Grieving."
Pansy's eyes seemed to glaze over, staring at a spot beside Hermione but appearing to watch something other than the hard stone behind her,.
Sometimes memories were as tangible as solid bone and stone.
Hermione reached out, tentatively, her hand silently moving out to rest upon Pansy's arm.
"For what it's worth, Professor Snape wasn't who the world thought he was, and is now a sorrier place without him."
"Quite." Pansy said, and Hermione could see untold sorrow behind her clear eyes.
"As to your other questions, well, isn't that what you'll be meeting Theo about?" Pansy smiled, not one of true warmth, but one lacking the thorns of yesteryear.
Even if yesterday.
The sound of bustling feet met their ears, and the moment of silent reconciliation was over.
"It's time," Pansy said, waving her wand before sheathing it and opening the heavy wooden door to the runes classroom.
"After you," she said, inclining her head and Hermione stepped through and into the room, taking her regular seat from years past in preparation for the class ahead as Pansy slid behind the desk she typically shared with Padma.
oOo-xXx-oOo
"Hey there," Hermione said softly, sliding into the seat beside Theo in the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom that afternoon.
It was the first chance she'd had to speak with him since the previous evening, and she was almost vibrating with the words that desperately wanted to escape her brain through her lips.
All during lunch she'd been peppered with questions from her friends, apart from Ginny, as to the sudden appearance and apparent assistance from Pansy Parkinson.
"Enough you lot," Ginny'd finally interjected, elbowing Seamus as he'd begun to ask yet another tediously repetitive question.
"Leave off, will you? I think it's a good thing that the ice is melting and new acquaintances are developing. We've all just been through a bloody war, and a little peace and frankly, less animosity, would be appreciated!"
She'd then narrowed her gaze on Neville who'd been sitting across from her, and Hermione had smirked at his reddening face. "And don't think for a second Neville, that I didn't see you chatting up Hannah after class this morning, so don't go throwing around that rubbish about keeping house loyalties and all that!"
He'd mumbled something that Hermione couldn't quite make out but had refrained from making any further comments.
"Afternoon," Theo replied, his grin causing Hermione's stomach to flip in the most wonderful way and an answering grin to spread across her face.
"How's your day been so far?" She asked, pulling out and arranging her textbook and quill set.
"Anticipatory," said Theo, then said quietly. "I find myself looking at my watch more than usual, wishing the day away so we'd be meeting sooner. Without all our classmates around."
"I'm looking forward to our study date too, Theo," Hermione said, and felt heat bloom across her cheeks as his eyes fixed upon her with a heat she'd never seen in them before.
There was a charge to the air as they sat staring, unmindful of the class filling up around them and the whispers of their classmates as they began to notice their unusual seating arrangement.
"Oi, Hermione," said Seamus, "are you forsaking us completely?"
He nodded to where she sat beside Theo, a bewilderment furrowing his brow.
"Oh shove off Finnegan," countered Draco, to Hermione's surprise as he slid into the seat on Theo's other side completing their table of three. "You're just sore she's sitting too far away for you to copy from."
'Enough of this,' she thought. 'Honestly, isn't he bloody tired of fighting?'
"Why don't you branch out a bit Seamus," Hermione said, voice dripping honey but her eyes throwing sparks.
She knew what she had to do. Nothing compelled Seamus more than…
"I dare you." She stated bluntly, all eyes of their classmates turning to stare at Seamus. "I dare you to branch out, to sit with someone from another house and to actually have a decent, polite, conversation."
As Seamus began looking smug, his eyes shifting toward Susan Bones, Hermione continued.
"And… it must be someone you've never had a conversation with, not even 'pass the salt.' Someone you'd have gone out of your way to not speak to."
Theo's lips appeared pursed in mirth as Seamus's face reddened and Draco was looking at Seamus like Christmas had come early.
"We take our dares very seriously down in the dungeons." Theo whispered to Hermione, his breath tickling her ear while her eyes remained locked on Seamus's. "I'm intrigued."
"What are the terms?" One of the Slytherins asked, and Hermione didn't have to turn her head to see that it was Davis asking, seated in the row behind them.
She had an easily recognizable, unique way of saying her vowels.
Hermione frowned.
Terms?
There's never really been… official terms.
You just did the dare or you didn't, but if you didn't you bore the shame of public failure and lack of courage, something a Gryffindor abhorred.
Especially Seamus.
"I say the terms are as such." Hermione said confidently, her brain scrambling to assemble an appropriate response.
"You fulfill the dare and… I'll edit your next essay, regardless of subject, and even make sure it properly fulfills the length requirement."
Seamus sucked in his breath, and she saw the other Gryffindors eyes widen in shock while those from other houses looked puzzled.
Hermione never offered to help anyone other than Ron or Harry with schoolwork outside of class prompts.
This was a mighty carrot… but not as enticing as writing the whole thing for him. He'd still have to do the work.
"And the punishment?" Asked Draco.
"If he fails to choose an appropriate seat companion, he forfeits the right to speak or even whisper for a full twenty four hours."
As talking came as naturally as breathing for Seamus, this was met with chuckles from Neville, a loud burst of laughter from Dean, and a steely glare from the boy himself.
"Seamus, do you accept these terms?" Davis said, and Hermione raised her eyebrow mockingly, further taunting him.
"I accept," ground out Seamus.
"So mote it be," said Davis, and a glow surrounded Seamus for a second before dissipating.
'Wow,' thought Hermione. 'Stating terms makes it official apparently…'
"What'll it be mate?" Asked Dean, who'd sat beside Neville.
Seamus looked around—the class had filled since they'd begun the dare—and seemed to hesitate before setting his shoulders and marching toward the middle of the room where one of the few empty spots remained, plopping himself down beside…
Daphne Greengrass.
No one failed to notice the glow of yellow that engulfed Seamus, nor that his mouth sealed itself shut with a loud squelch.
'Well that was unexpected,' thought Hermione as Seamus's ears turned pink and his jaw set in defiance, his eyes darting around, their ferocity daring anyone to comment.
Greengrass shot Theo a pointed look, one Hermione couldn't distinguish.
Annoyance, exasperation, anger? Hermione couldn't tell.
Theo just grinned back at Greengrass and shrugged his shoulders, apparently amused at the situation.
"Well played, Hermione," Theo said. "I didn't know you lot were into dares."
"There's much you don't know about me Theo," Hermione cheeked, "but you'll be finding out soon."
"I can't wait," murmured Theo, turning his head as the door slammed shut and their new professor greeted the class.
Hermione gasped.
Theo swore.
Draco's quill shook in his hand.
A/N: who do you think the new professor is? :)
*The book title roughly translates to mean: undiluted at any time, to fight against ruin