Hermione really did not want to admit it, but the Quidditch match had been fine, despite all of her grumbling in the lead up. She sat in the stands, sandwiched between Ansel and Nella, wearing a green striped scarf that she'd borrowed off of Regulus, and actually enjoyed seeing her snakes trounce Gryffindor in an epic fashion. Regulus caught the Snitch right from over the top of the head of the Gryffindor Seeker, looking pleased as punch.
A part of her felt like she was a traitor, shunning the team that she had supported the previous five years. But, despite seeing a familiar looking 'Potter' jersey, there was not much to remind her of the Gryffindor team she loved. In fact, all her interactions with Sirius up to this point had her wishing that they would end up embarrassed — taken down a couple of pegs. The elder Black brother was really giving it his all with his Beaters bat, trying to knock Regulus off of his broom. Aside from two hits, he remained unsuccessful.
Once the game was won, she was swept up in the crowd of Slytherin students, triumphantly carrying her back to the dungeons where the real celebrations could begin. Ansel, who truly was more excited about Quidditch than he was scared of her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a half hug.
"He really did it! Regulus said he was going to show up Brown and he did it," he said, still buzzing with the excitement of the win. "Right over his head! Did you see it, Hermione? Oh, I wish I could watch it again and again."
His enthusiasm was infectious and Hermione smiled broadly, proud of the wizard who'd become like a brother to her. "We should look for a pensieve. Then you could revisit the memory as often as you'd like," Hermione teased, pleased that Ansel was finally speaking to her. "Only, we must not let Regulus's head get any larger than it already is or else his head won't fit through the portrait hole!"
When they got back into the castle and into the Slytherin common room, it was as if everyone mobilized to put together a party that was certain to be memorable (or unmemorable if the bottles that Bernie was carrying down the stairs were to be believed). Elvira enlisted Hermione's assistance in retrieving her record player and records from their shared dorm room.
"Priscilla is going after Evrard tonight. She's very annoyed that Regulus hasn't even looked at her once," Elvira revealed, a smirk on her face. "I know you tried to let her down gently, but the girl is determined."
Hermione thought that Priscilla probably had a better chance with Evrard Murk, the Keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team, but she wasn't going to endorse the match, knowing that it would only make Priscilla dig her heels in further, convinced that she could get Regulus to fall for her. She did not fancy making an enemy of Priscila, who knew where she slept, over something that she couldn't even control.
"Yeah, well, Regulus is a tricky one," she said. "I can't control who he is interested in, despite what Cilla thinks."
"She'll get over it," the blonde promised, grabbing a stack of records. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Hermione asked, confused as to what Elvira was asking her.
"Has any wizard caught your eye?" Elvira asked, smirking at her like she already knew the answer. Just what was the gossip that was going on around here?
"Oh," Hermione said, completely shocked. She hadn't really thought about it — it being her love life — too much if she was being honest. Her uncertain future made her feel like it was silly to try and get attached to someone here, knowing that she could be back to her future in an instant. Even if it was a fleeting, teenage romance, it felt somehow wrong to form a connection that she knew couldn't last. "I hadn't really thought about it."
Elvira groaned. "Our Hermione, always so focused on her studies," she said, teasingly. "You know it wouldn't kill you to date someone. You could have the pick of anyone you wanted."
"Anyone?" Hermione repeated, feeling stunned by the suggestion. "I don't know... I'm not the sort of witch that has guys beating down her door."
"Don't be silly," she countered, pulling her hair over her shoulder. "You are the hot new item. Everyone is interested in you because you are shiny and different and they haven't known you since they were children like the rest of us."
Hermione knew that it was a compliment... mostly. Elvira was obviously the most popular girl in Slytherin and if there was someone who could have anyone she wanted, it was her. "I suppose," she said. It was somewhat refreshing to have a new pool of wizards herself to contend with.
"So, who is it that's caught your eye? Ansel maybe? You seemed close at the game. Or Bernie — rumor has it that he'd like to get to know you a bit better," she prodded, seemingly knowing all sorts of gossip about Hermione that even Hermione was not privy to.
She made a little noise in the back of her throat, completely unused to wizards being interested in her. "Oh, I don't think that Regulus would like it very much if I dated one of his friends," she demurred, knowing that it was a cop out. A small part of her wondered if there was a friend that Regulus would approve of as her boyfriend. He'd only been her brother for half a year and already he was quite protective over her.
"He can't think that you'll remain a nun forever, Hermione," she said, smirking once again. "You haven't taken any vows of chastity have you?"
Hermione shook her head back and forth. She had not, of course. "I suppose, if something happens, it happens, but I am not going to go out of my way, looking for a fling just because I can," she said resolutely.
"We'll see," Elvira said, sounding rather like she knew something.
"Tell me, then. Who has your eye, Elvira?" Hermione asked, hoping that the other witch would open up to her. It was only fair after all.
"Oh, Angus and I have been having a flirtation all year," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He's not the fastest broom in the shed, but he's an amazing snogger. And he's not bad with his fingers either."
"Elvira!" Hermione scolded, feeling rather scandalized that she would admit to something like that.
Elvira just laughed, muttering something about her being a prude, before she began walking back down towards the party. "Come on, we don't want to miss the good firewhiskey," she said.
Hermione followed dutifully after her, carrying the stack of records.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she was amazed to see how many people were actually there. It felt like everyone in Slytherin house was actually there, the settees pushed back against the wall so there was room for them to stand. The Quidditch team, freshly showered and still damp, had finally shown up. Regulus was grinning so wildly, chatting with some of the seventh years.
Her eyes briefly lingered on Rabastan, his hair made darker from the water. He had played well — well, according to Ansel at least — and he'd even made the Gryffindor Keeper look ridiculous after a perfectly executed feint. She wanted to hate him for being both smart and athletically gifted.
And good looking, too, her brain supplied traitorously, watching as he laughed at something that Mallory said.
"Here, let me help you with those."
Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when she felt the records she was carrying being taken from her hands, Bernie Rosier's calloused hands brushing against her own. Embarrassed at having been staring, she felt too flustered to stop him from taking them. "Oh, thank you, Bernie," she said, knowing that it was a nice thing to do.
Bernie carried the records for her and set them down beside the record player, which Elvira already had playing some sort of disco tune. When he turned back around, he pressed his arm over his shoulders. "Come on, let's get you a drink," he said, guiding her through the crowd. "You can have some of the good stuff that I set aside."
"Aren't I a lucky witch?" Hermione asked, biting her lower lip, unused to this much attention from the Rosier boy. Both Elvira and Rabastan had intimated that he was interested in her, but Hermione wasn't really sure what to make of it. She certainly didn't like his politics — which he was very open about — but it wasn't as if she could outright say anything about it. It would just raise too many questions about her if she came out as a dyed in the wool blood traitor.
"'Course you are, Hermione," he said, before handing her an overly full glass. "Let me look after you."
She took a sip of the drink, without even having to fight off the burn, having grown used to it since she started at Hogwarts. Bernard didn't take his arm off from around her shoulders and it felt a bit suffocating, but not so unwelcome that she would try to duck out from under it. She stared across the room at her brother, wondering if he would come try to put a stop to this.
"Come on, then," Bernie said. "Take a real drink, Granger. That's expensive stuff I've given you."
"If that's so, I just figured I would try to savor it," she said, unsure of herself.
"Don't worry, I've got more than enough for you," he said, smirking at her. His mouth often had a cruel sort of bend to it, but she did not think that he was trying to be mean to her.
She pressed the glass to her lips. Bernie tapped the bottom of the glass, tipping it higher so that she was forced to drink a bigger mouthful. She coughed and sputtered this time, unprepared for the sudden rush of liquid.
"You look so cute, trying to handle your drink," he teased, bringing a hand up to brush a rogue spill from the side of her lip.
Hermione took a step backwards, surprised by the pleasant buzz that already had flooded her body. She felt weightless and bold, an unusual combination. "You know, Bernie, Elvira told me something interesting today," she said, wanting to call him on his sudden interest in her. "Said that I could get any wizard that I wanted here because I was the new witch that no one else has had before."
"Mm," Bernie agreed. "It does have a certain appeal. Plus you are so mysterious."
"Mysterious?"
"Yeah, you and Regulus are so secretive, about where you came from," he said, taking another step closer to her.
"It's not —" she said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and hot. Salazar, couldn't he give her a bit of space? "It's not a secret."
But it was a secret. No one could know where she was from, not really.
Bernie leaned in, so that he could whisper in her ear, his hot breath tickling the delicate skin of her neck. "I think I've got it figured out, though," he said. "I've heard that you are Alphard's daughter. Heard that he had some kind of secret marriage — secret family out on the continent. And now that he's died, Aunt Walburga has swooped in to take in his long, lost child."
"Oh yeah?" she asked, unable to help herself. "Who did you hear that from?"
"My father said," Bernie answered, obviously thinking that he'd gotten it right after all.
Hermione murmured, wondering how she should get out of this one. Once again, she longed for Regulus to swoop over and put a stop to this and his line of questioning. To get her out of a situation that she didn't entirely know how to handle.
Would it be so bad of a lie to pretend that she was Alphard's daughter? After all, he wasn't alive to contest it. And, it wasn't really that far removed from the truth. It was certainly a lot more believable than the truth.
"And, what about my mother then?" Hermione asked, cocking her head. "Have you worked out why I wouldn't have just stayed with her?"
Bernie shrugged. "Can't say that I have, but... maybe she just didn't want you, after your father abandoned the pair of you," he said, uncaring that it was a callous sentiment. "Maybe you were too big of a burden once the money dried up."
"You think so?"
"Yeah, but what more can you expect from some unsuitable witch. It's in their nature. I mean, she must have been someone unsuitable," he continued. "A blood traitor or something, otherwise, Alphard wouldn't have had to hide her."
Hermione swallowed, completely unsure of what to say to him. She bit her lower lip, trying to formulate the words, but her mind was spinning from the firewhiskey. Godric, she wished that Regulus would help her.
To her surprise, a knight in shining armor did appear. Only, it wasn't Regulus, but Rabastan, with his beautiful seafoam eyes. "There you are, Hermione," he said, his mouth in a tight line. "Go over and congratulate your brother. He's all mopey that you haven't told him what a good job he's done yet."
Regulus did not look mopey, but she was not about to give up the opportunity to escape Bernard's clutches. She stepped out from under his arm and took a step away.
Rabastan's arm shot out and grabbed her glass out of her hand. "And, I'll take that," he chided, before taking a drink out of it.
Hermione both hated and appreciated the deft way that he took it. Bernie didn't even notice. But she hated the way that he seemed to imply like she shouldn't have been drinking it in the first place. Like she couldn't make decisions on her own. Like he was in charge of her. Like he was looking out for her.
Because, why exactly would Rabastan Lestrange, notorious Death Eater (though he did not yet wear the mark) look out for her?