Viktor answered Hermione's knock promptly, his face lightening to something that was nearly a smile when he saw her.
"Hermione, vhat can I do for you?"
"You can serve me tea," she said with a smile. "I'm keeping out of Harry and Draco's way for a little while."
His lips twitched. "Of course. Please come in."
He served her tea as requested, and they had a very lovely chat. If she spent the whole time wishing she were somewhere else, she chastised herself thoroughly for it and was careful not to let it show. Viktor was a good friend, but for better and worse, he wasn't Severus.
It had now been almost a month since the Slytherin had thrown her out of his room, and she found herself missing him fiercely even when she told herself not to be so very stupid. It had been all well and good to say that she was going to try not to think about him, but it hadn't worked, not at all.
Still, it was nice to have a slightly grumpy friend who wasn't grumpy with her all the time. Viktor actually went out of his way to be nice to her, as far as she could tell. Despite the fact that he was now also nominally her professor, there was never a hint between them of his authority over her. It made for a refreshing change from her interactions with Severus when Severus was being a complete arse.
The fact remained, however, that Viktor wasn't Severus, and it was with Severus that she wanted to do a whole array of goofy things: argue Potions theories, just look at him, go out to the Forest, snuggle with him…. She gave herself a mental eye roll. Ninety-nine percent of the school population would laugh her out of the castle if that came out, and Severus would be at the head of the line.
But somehow, she still couldn't help wanting him and wanting to be with him. It was rather depressing when she thought of it like that, but it didn't change the conclusions that she had reached, the unalterable facts as she had come to understand them. Unicorns mated for life, and no matter how much she was human, the transfer between the two forms seemed to very definitely include this detail.
She knew in her heart, in her core—in the same place where she knew she was a witch and a unicorn and a Pure Adult—that she had chosen a mate. The choice had really been made long before she had had sex with him, and although there was a possibility, perhaps, that she could have changed her mind before then, there was no going back at this point. Just starting to think the thought that if she'd known, she wouldn't have done it, she knew that wasn't true, either. She wanted him for her mate, and she knew that losing her virginity to him had been important for all sorts of other reasons, too.
While throwing the Cruciatus at her had been particularly low, his behaviour since then had been adequate, if not exactly delightful. He'd acted a prat in public, but that was to be expected, and they hadn't had so many dealings in private. He could have been hunting her down and trying to make her life utterly miserable, and at least he didn't seem to be doing that.
She didn't leave Viktor's rooms until he announced that he had to leave to prepare to referee the imminent Quidditch match. She told him she'd be joining Harry and Draco to watch, as she was certain that being escorted out to the pitch by Viktor would only cause extra fuss that she didn't want to put up with. Viktor therefore headed out to the pitch, and she headed back to her quarters.
She'd made it to within about a hallway when a voice spoke with an audible sneer at her shoulder.
"You spend a great deal too much time in Mr Krum's quarters. You can hardly be surprised at the rumours."
She turned to glare at him, waving up privacy charms so that she at least didn't have to worry that anyone else would hear such stupid accusations.
"Since I've spent more time in your quarters, I don't believe you're in a position to cast stones," she snarled.
"That seems highly unlikely," Severus answered loftily.
His tone of voice when he wanted to convey disbelief was really quite grating, and she felt her spine stiffening in automatic reaction.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're simply going to have to trust that I know how to count."
She had now been in Viktor's quarters twice; once for all of ten minutes so he could show them to her after he'd moved in, and now this second time. Severus could bugger off if he was going to start in with nonsensical insinuations.
He was staring at her intently as though carefully gauging her sincerity, and it suddenly drove her insane that she was explaining her actions to him. He was the one who'd thrown her out of his bed, he was the one who had no interest in pursuing her, and that meant that he didn't have the right to question her about her behaviour and actions now. She flipped her hair behind her ears—à la Lavender Brown—and offered him a bright and entirely false smile.
"Usually when we spend time together, Viktor comes to my quarters, not the other way around."
Severus's expression instantly darkened.
Her statement wasn't even untrue, she was simply omitting the small detail that Harry or Draco had thus far always been with them; the three meetings they'd had thus far were hardly the cozy tête-à-têtes that Severus was hopefully now imagining. She was strongly reminded of how Ron had behaved in her fourth year about Viktor, and she simply wasn't going to put up with it for a second time with somebody else who wasn't actually interested in her.
"If you'll excuse me," she said coolly, "I have business elsewhere. And it would be a positive shame for Slytherin to lack their leader during their match."
With a scowl, Severus stalked off, and she wished the whole encounter, out of which she had apparently come victorious, had made her feel better. She finished the trip to her common room reminding herself that Harry noticed if she looked too out of sorts, so she would do well to behave normally.
They'd apparently made up, and Hermione had arrived at the point where Harry was reminding Draco of the fact that he had been unceremoniously thrown off the Slytherin team so Harry simply refused to let the blond boy even consider sitting in the stands with his House members. They might not want him, but Harry most assuredly did, and he preferred that all limbs and body parts remained intact, so couldn't he pretty please stay with Harry this morning?
There were more of those puppy-dog eyes involved, so now Draco was sitting between the two of them in the Gryffindor stands looking rather faint. Luna had come to sit with Ginny and Neville, appearing not to be the slightest bit perturbed that she wasn't sitting with her own House while her team fought against Slytherin. Since the three of them, at least, were willing to converse with Hermione, Harry, and Draco, it wasn't horribly uncomfortable.
The only saving grace was that it wasn't Gryffindor playing against Slytherin today, but it still turned out to be witnessing Slytherin being hoisted by its own petard. They scored nine goals, beating out the Gryffindor's season high of eight goals, while Ravenclaw only just managed to score two; Slytherin had a more than adequate Keeper and good Chasers and Beaters. What they didn't have, however, was a particularly good Seeker, and an hour and a half into the game, the Ravenclaw Seeker ended the game one hundred and seventy to ninety.
The Slytherins were now in fourth place and had lost their chance at the Quidditch Cup. Hermione heard at least a dozen people point out the facts before they left the stands: the last match before the final would be played between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and the latter would have to score at least twenty points to beat Ravenclaw out of the final. If the Hufflepuff Seeker, Phillips, found the Snitch before Ginny, the Hufflepuffs would take the lead for the Cup.
Draco looked a painful mixture of vindicated and upset for his House, and they dragged him back to their quarters before there was any chance he could have an unpleasant run-in with any of his angry House members. As far as Hermione and Harry were concerned, it couldn't be considered Draco's fault that he had been told to leave the team, but they knew not everyone would feel that way.
Viktor knocked on their door soon after, eager to get away from the mixed jubilation and upset that the rest of the student body was feeling in spades. There hadn't been any particularly controversial calls that he had made this match, but that was unlikely to stop the Slytherins from heckling him—or his legion of fans from pestering him with a great deal too much admiration. She couldn't really blame him if he didn't much fancy sitting next to Severus for this meal, either.
Hermione was perfectly content, once they'd finished their own lunch in their quarters, to allow them to continue their Quidditch talk while she got out her school work. Putting a Slytherin, Gryffindor, and International Seeker in a room together after a match where at least one Seeker had performed very poorly meant that there was a great deal of discussion surrounding the subject.
Once they'd clarified a number of times that she really didn't mind their talking this subject to death, she was able to tune them out and get several papers written while they had a lively discussion that culminated in three animated charts, two small conjured models, and one step-by-step breakdown of a manoeuvre that they had all physically half acted out—which had at least afforded her some amusement value.
They made an appearance at dinner where they discovered that, as they had hoped, everyone was moderately calmer than they had been earlier in the day.
Severus summoned them for a training session that went better than the three of them had anticipated given what had happened during the day. Fortunately, since the Gryffindors hadn't been playing and Severus had the common sense not to blame Draco for making the same choice that he himself had made years ago, Severus didn't appear to be particularly angry with any of them. So while he worked them hard, it wasn't as though Voldemort wasn't going to work them hard in a battle scenario, and they didn't feel as though Severus were making a concerted effort to wipe them off the face of the planet.
He didn't keep them terribly late, either, as the three of them wanted to perform extra rounds, given the events of the day, and Severus was perfectly happy to try to catch more miscreants on his own account. Since the Slytherins hadn't been trounced by Gryffindor to lose their chance at the finals, a whole level of potential nastiness was removed, but it was never particularly pretty when three quarters of the school were united against a lone quarter. With all of them patrolling, however, they could hope that nothing truly nefarious would occur.
The next morning, Hermione and Harry had barely finished their sparring session when the gargoyle announced the presence of Pansy at their door. Given that it was half seven on a Sunday morning, Hermione rather doubted it was a social call.
They ushered Pansy in and offered her tea, and once they were all seated in front of the fire, she got straight to the point.
"A number of Slytherins wish to shift their allegiances."
Harry—
I'll get him.
Harry rose. "Excuse me for a moment."
Pansy looked at Hermione with a slight smirk as Harry left the room.
"I'd actually assumed he was here, you know."
Hermione smiled back. "They like to pretend they don't spend all hours of the day together."
Draco was retrieved in short order, and Pansy and Hermione studiously did not look at one another when the two boys settled on the couch; the Slytherin had even allowed Harry to clasp his hand, and they looked the perfect couple.
Pansy cleared her throat and re-announced her purpose.
Draco regarded her with narrowed eyes that were a hard grey.
"Why?"
The blonde girl shrugged. "We're fed up. Being forced to take place in that daft ambush was bad enough, and our lack of tolerance as a House has now lost us any chance at the Quidditch Cup and probably the House Cup as well. We're fighting fellow students in the corridors because we're told to, and before you know it, we're going to be out in the wide world with these same unreasonable expectations placed upon us, only it's going to be even more serious. I don't know about you, but I prefer to live my own life and make my own choices."
Harry snorted. "It's nice that you think that's what the lot of us do."
Hermione cleared her throat. "What Harry means to say is that while we don't believe our side will ever force you to act against your will like Voldemort—" Pansy shuddered slightly, and Hermione continued as though she had not noticed, "—Does, that isn't to say that we aren't part of a group that sometimes acts in ways in which we might not entirely approve. If you choose to side with us completely, you will have to accept that."
"There are levels to siding with you?" Pansy asked with the appearance of idle curiosity.
Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, and Harry gestured at her to have the floor.
"We know nearly as well as you the problems that you'll face if you openly declare yourselves against Voldemort. You'll need protection, much as we've protected Draco. I imagine you've guessed that at the Final Battle, he'll be at Harry's side."
"Damn straight," Draco said fiercely, and Harry beamed at him.
Hermione continued. "While we'd certainly like to have more people assisting us, we're not going to force anyone to fight. We realize that it's especially difficult for many of you, as you'd likely be facing family, and we wouldn't require that of anyone."
"Would the headmaster?"
Hermione wondered if a Gryffindor would have thought to ask that question.
Harry fielded this one. "I try not to predict what the headmaster would or would not do. In this case, however, it doesn't matter. You came to us. There's not necessarily a lot we can do about finding you alternative quarters in the castle, say, but we can and will provide a safe location for any of you who do not wish to fight. No matter what Albus expects of you."
"So you ask for nothing in return?" she asked, sounding as though this notion were hard to credit.
"The more of you who choose us over Voldemort, the fewer people we have to face in a battle scenario. That's of material benefit, if that's what you're looking for," Harry answered.
Hermione smiled. "And if we can broaden the tolerance of just a handful of pure-bloods, we can hopefully diminish the chances of another dark lord rising after Voldemort falls."
"You're so certain that he won't win," Pansy said, eyeing them carefully.
She and Harry answered in unison with utmost conviction, "Yes."
They would do everything within their power to make sure that he did not come out victorious.
Pansy was looking at Harry curiously. "So you're really both like that? You're not out for blood."
"We're not at all," Harry said, sounding a bit relieved that he was getting to explain this and that Pansy might actually be listening. "There's been far too much blood spilt in this stupid war. You're looking at two people who have been judged by who our parents are and events over which we had no control. We're not about to do the same to you. Some of your parents or siblings might be Death Eaters, but that doesn't mean that any of you have to make the same choice."
"So you're just going to welcome us all with open arms?"
"It's not quite as straightforward as that," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "We have an obligation to protect a number of people, and that means that we have to be careful whom we trust."
"Most of you have attacked us at least once," Harry pointed out.
"As has Draco," Pansy noted immediately.
"In my foolish youth," Draco said loftily.
"In December," Pansy corrected.
All eyes focussed on Hermione as they remembered that less-than-stellar attack.
"Forgiveness has been granted him for that choice," she answered, not about to get into any of the reasons even if Pansy could guess some of them. "He has since taken a very clear stand, and we support that."
"It could have been a set up," Pansy observed. "To gain your trust."
"But he's proved himself," Harry said stiffly. "I don't have any doubts about him."
Draco was carefully uncurling the very tightly clenched fists that Harry was now sporting.
"There is always an element of risk in trust," Hermione conceded. "But Draco has never betrayed us since we offered it."
Pansy was looking at Draco now. "You made a good choice."
"Yes, I did," he agreed very seriously.
Hermione wasn't sure if they were talking about his choice to join their side or have Harry as a partner. Maybe the two really did go hand-in-hand in this particular case.
The Slytherin woman now seemed prepared to get to the heart of the matter.
"It's unlikely everyone will be willing to fight. Some may decide it is the price for changing sides; others may accept that you're not compelling us to do so."
"Who?" Draco asked.
"All of us." At Harry's puzzled frown, she continued: "It's the seventh-years who are in real danger right now. We need a plan because we know we're to be recruited straight out of school as Death Eaters or to other … positions. The Dark Lord has grown only more determined since events in January; hesitation or delays aren't going to be tolerated any longer.
"He has little interest in female Death Eaters unless they pique his interest in a particular way. Millicent has been allowed to forego the majority of the conflicts thus far, but that's unlikely to last. She's a pure-blood, and that means that she—like Queenie, Trace, and I—will be sold off like a trophy, a reward for the most loyal, as a way of strengthening bloodlines."
Harry looked troubled that Pansy could reel off the lives of her fellow students like this, their fates established based on something they had no control over, but Draco looked as though this was the sort of world that he dealt with on a regular basis.
"As I understand it," Pansy went on, "Blaise's mother struck some sort of deal a long time ago now, but if the Dark Lord decides that he is in desperate need of initiates, all deals are likely to be off. For the rest of us…." Pansy shrugged. "It's in our best interest to appear receptive to the cause. Generally, the tasks he assigns us have not been outrageous and are unlikely to land us in Azkaban. Vince and Greg were always doing what Draco and their fathers told them. Theo's more interested in girls than politics. However, we've all seen what it's been doing to our House and the school in the last few months, and we know it's only going to get worse once we get out there. We don't want a life of secrecy, torture, and death."
That really was the entire Slytherin seventh year. As one, she and Harry looked to Draco, who shook his head. He didn't believe they had all decided to support Harry or even that they were simply trying to get out of the conflict.
Hermione looked back at Pansy and asked her directly, "How many of those people do you think are sincere in their desire to switch sides?"
She could see Draco rolling his eyes from the couch, but Pansy answered the question.
"Vince and Greg have felt that they were in over their heads for some time now, but that's not to say that they couldn't be potentially swayed or forced back; they still have their parents to deal with, and they've lost the protection of the Malfoy name. You know that I've been civil for months." She smiled faintly at Hermione. "If that means anything."
"Well, you've been at least as polite as Draco, and I'm pretty sure you're not just flirting with me," Hermione managed with a straight face.
"Oh!" Pansy exclaimed dramatically. "My secret is out. I was desperately in love with you; I thought we could join together in solidarity against the men who have cast us off."
Hermione laughed as Harry looked at them with a furrowed brow and Draco regarded them with a faint sneer of disgust.
"I can see why you and Draco are friends," Hermione observed, still amused. "You're both very theatrical."
"I beg your pardon," Draco said with every appearance of being really offended.
Harry was seized with a sudden coughing fit that made Draco glare at him and attempt to pull away in a huff. The Gryffindor was having none of it, however, and kept his grip on the Slytherin's hand as he leaned up, nuzzled the blond's neck and whispered something into his ear which had the happy effect of calming Draco down almost instantly.
Pansy and Hermione exchanged looks, steadfastly refused to laugh, and praiseworthily refrained from asking what it was that Harry had said.
"What of the others?" Hermione asked before she or Pansy got the better of their good intentions and needled Draco some more.
"Queenie hasn't been much bothered by anyone; that sort of indifference is likely to come at high cost eventually. Tracey's like me. She was always expected to marry Theo just like I was expected to marry Draco."
"And Nott?"
"Fools around, as I said," Pansy said coolly. "Knows we're in the middle of a war and does what needs to be done but has never seemed terribly interested in the politics for their sake alone."
Harry drew the conclusion. "So, er, trust no one because any of you could betray us at any point to save your own skins?"
Pansy smirked. "It's not always easy to work out a Slytherin's motivations."
"You're telling me." Harry sounded very heartfelt. "Who knew six years of antagonism was trying to keep my attention because he was attracted to me?"
"Prat," Draco snapped. "You should have just accepted my hand in friendship when we were eleven, and you could have saved us a great deal of trouble."
"And you shouldn't have insulted Hagrid and Ron, or I might have taken your hand," Harry countered.
Hermione tried not to sigh as Draco launched into an elaborate response.
"We'll have to talk it over with Albus," Hermione told Pansy over the sound of the two boys talking in what was not quite an argument but had a little more tone than a regular discussion. "It might take a couple of days before we can come back to you with any official arrangements. I assume you will be able to pass all the necessary information on to the others?"
"Of course," Pansy said. She regarded Hermione speculatively as Harry and Draco paid them no mind. "It would be useful for you to know that there was at least one of us whom you could trust."
Hermione gave a half-shrug, half-nod. "But there's not a lot of time for us to establish that sort of trust."
"There are ways in which to … accelerate the process," Pansy pointed out.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't think you'd particularly want to undergo any of them."
"Perhaps not. Under the circumstances, however, it's the prudent course of action. I want you to know whose side I'm really on. It's safer for me in the long run, as I trust by this point that you know how to keep a secret."
She was eyeing Harry and Draco, still bickering.
Hermione smiled softly. "I do know how to protect those I care about, yes."
"Then that's that," Pansy said simply. "I don't want Draco or Potter in charge, but I know you won't go out of your way to dig up information that I don't want to share."
"Of course not. Goody-Two-Shoes Gryffindor at your service."
Pansy smiled. "I said I didn't want Potter in charge, either. I'm sure Professor Snape has a store on hand, but it might be a bit difficult to—"
Hermione shook her head. "There's no need."
Pansy's eyes widened slightly. "I know you have the skills, but I hadn't exactly pegged you for carrying illegal potions on your person."
"I don't have it with me at all times," Hermione negated with a smile, "but I do like to make a great many potions for a great many different reasons. Suffice it to say that if I wanted to, I could question each and every one of you."
"Not that you're going to do that."
"Not that I'm going to do that," Hermione agreed blandly.
They'd really had enough of truth potions slipped into drinks. Pansy still looked determined, so Hermione rose.
"Come along, then, before they notice."
The Slytherin obediently followed Hermione to her lab, her eyes growing rounder once more at the sight of the well-stocked potions laboratory.
"This does rather explain why you have a great many potions on hand."
Hermione chose not to explain that the Veritaserum had been made long before she had the lab. It would be much easier if Pansy believed that the lab had come with the room.
She transfigured one of her stools into an armchair and got Pansy seated comfortably before she dosed her with the potion.
Hermione ran through some control questions, verifying Pansy's name, the classes she was taking, the first time she'd met Hermione, and then she moved on to the interrogation proper, such as it was.
She had seen Severus perform one just once—or rather, Fawkes had, and he had shared with her—the summer after sixth year when someone he had thought was awfully suspicious had come to the Order seeking asylum. It had taken him all of twenty minutes to discover the man's true allegiances.
Hermione had not been made privy to what had happened to the man, and she had decided that in this case, it was just as well.
Since Hermione had grown genuinely fond of Pansy, she didn't particularly want to pry into the other woman's personal life. But Hermione knew that Pansy was right, and this was the best way to protect her in the end. If she had Hermione and Harry vouching for her, then she was well on her way to being very securely placed indeed.
This wasn't to say that even Veritaserum was foolproof. Hermione and Harry had proved the lie to that, not to mention the fact that Severus was still successfully spying on one of the most suspicious wizards of all time. Pansy had known what she was coming here to do this morning, after all.
But Pansy wasn't the world's best Occlumens—wasn't really an Occlumens at all, in fact—and with the Veritaserum lowering her inhibitions and encouraging her to tell the truth, it wasn't difficult for Hermione to access her mind and ensure that no deception lurked as she answered the questions. It was invasive, but not outrageously so, and not really any worse than the Veritaserum itself.
Harry and Draco appeared just as she was retrieving the antidote for Pansy. Hermione couldn't quite believe that it had taken the two boys that long to discover that the two of them were missing. Unless they'd had spectacular make-up sex while she and Pansy had been here in the lab, and Hermione supposed there was a precedent for that.
"What are you doing?" Draco demanded.
Hermione administered the antidote which Pansy swallowed gratefully.
"We've finished," Hermione answered obliquely.
"You'd no right to do that," Draco said angrily. "It's not even legal for you to have that potion!"
"Please," Pansy scoffed. "As if something being illegal has ever stopped you, Draco Malfoy. I offered, and Granger accepted."
"Hermione, please," Hermione corrected.
"Pansy," the Slytherin responded with a smile.
"You shouldn't have done it on your own," Draco said, drawing the conversation back to the topic of his choice.
"I suggested it in the common room in your presence," Pansy pointed out coolly. "It's not my fault if you were too wrapped up in Potter to pay any attention to what we were doing."
"I would have come if you'd asked," Draco said stiffly.
"I know. But I trusted Hermione to ask the questions, and it's she and Potter whom I have to satisfy as regards my loyalty. No offence, Draco, but in this case, it doesn't really matter what you think."
"True," Draco conceded, although he didn't look particularly pleased. "But you might at least have had Harry involved."
"Potter would hardly be happy to be pulled from his time with you to listen to me being questioned. Hermione knew exactly what she was doing, and now it's over and done with. She's satisfied."
Hermione nodded a confirmation. "And now I believe it's time for Harry and me to go see Albus. Why don't you and Draco catch up."
Both looked as though they wished to protest, but Hermione was sure that this first meeting should not be between everyone.
"Very well," Draco acquiesced.
"Sit in the common room and serve yourselves tea," Harry suggested. "We won't be long."
"If you're certain?" Pansy asked. It seemed to take her by surprise that they would simply leave her in their quarters like this.
"I don't expect this initial bit will take too long," Hermione reassured the other woman. "Just make yourself comfortable, and we can discuss it in more detail when we get back."
As it happened, they ran into Severus before they made it to the headmaster.
"Where are the two of you headed in such a hurry this early in the morning?" he demanded suspiciously.
Because now it's against the rules to spend time in the corridors. Harry made a mental face. How did I miss the memo that states we have to Apparate from room to room?
Hermione's lips twitched, and she saw Severus's eyes narrow. He could guess that they were communicating because it was more fun to be obvious about it in situations like this, but there wasn't a darn thing he could do about it.
"We were on our way to see the headmaster, sir," Hermione answered.
"Apart from your belief in your own importance," Severus said with a sneer, "why would you bother the headmaster so early on a Sunday morning?"
She stressed the word carefully: "It's a Prefect matter, sir."
His eyes narrowed further.
"I am the liaison between the Head Boy and Head Girl and the staff, Miss Granger. If you have an issue that you cannot resolve on your own, it is to me that you should be bringing it."
She looked at Harry and clucked her tongue. "How could we have forgotten? I'm so sorry, sir. Of course we meant to come to you first."
This falsely apologetic tone garnered the felicitous reaction of their being dragged to Severus's office forthwith, and once the door was closed, she threw up some more privacy charms, just in case.
One dark eyebrow rose on Severus's face.
"We would have come to you, too," she said immediately, "but I told Pansy we were going to see the headmaster."
"And why were you telling Miss Parkinson anything?"
She smiled faintly at his tone. "Because she came to us this morning to inform us that the seventh-year Slytherins wish to change their allegiance."
"You believed her." His tone was expressionless.
"I believe that the Slytherins she's named are making a show of changing allegiances. I imagine that more than one of them is probably sincere in that choice. At the moment, the only Slytherins I know I can trust are you, Draco, and now Pansy."
She thought that maybe she needed to get to know more Slytherins, if those were the only three she could name, but then she realized that her list of Gryffindors wasn't that much longer. She trusted a fair number of them to a certain degree, but in the nitty-gritty details of the war, it was Harry … Ginny and Neville, if necessary, she supposed, and normally Ron, but that was a whole other matter.
Perhaps Slytherin wasn't doing too poorly after all. There were very few people that she trusted almost unreservedly, and since Albus wasn't one of those, she didn't think anyone else could get terribly upset.
"Why Miss Parkinson?" he demanded sharply, giving no indication that he had noticed that she'd listed him first.
"I questioned her, and her responses indicated that she was trustworthy."
His disapproval was clear. "The Dark Lord thinks I'm trustworthy."
She clarified, "Under Veritaserum and Legilimency; she's not nearly as good as you."
She wasn't entirely surprised when he observed, "Veritaserum is a controlled substance."
"And I'm monitoring every drop," she said sincerely since she thought it was rather beside the point of their discussion.
It looked as though he was going to take exception to this comment, but after a moment, he said only, "You may not have been asking the right questions."
"I believe I was," she said as diplomatically as she could. "At any rate, my Legilimency was more than sufficient."
"There is a great deal at stake," he answered.
"I haven't brought her to you."
"So I see," he said coldly.
She gritted her teeth. He could be such an arse when he wanted to be.
"Would you Obliviate her if it turned out I was wrong? You don't think that Voldemort might notice and discover what you've done?"
"Yet you say you're certain of her allegiances?" he asked with a sneer.
"As certain as I can be of someone whom I don't actually know that well. I don't repose absolute confidence in the fact that she could never side with Voldemort, but the number of people of whom I believe that can be counted on one hand. There is always an element of risk in such trust, and," she tried to think of a better way to put this, and then gave up, "I would not risk your life over it."
"How thoughtful of you."
He sounded anything but grateful for the consideration.
"Look, then," she said with exasperation, "and see if you are not satisfied."
She never unshielded her mind completely. She and Harry had had too many important secrets for too long for them to consider being unprotected at any point. Keeping information from the likes of Albus and Severus—not to mention Voldemort, but she didn't see him very often—meant that her guard was always up, even in her quarters where she was theoretically alone and wouldn't be disturbed for some time.
She and Harry didn't tend to lie to one another—although they sometimes kept information back—so there wasn't any need for them to be popping into one another's heads to gauge sincerity. And since they communicated mentally all the time, they could pop images one another's way whenever they needed to do so.
With Severus, there was plenty of information that she knew full well he would be delighted to take from her mind were the opportunity to arise. Fortunately, her Occlumency skills were entirely sufficient to keep him from seeing anything but what she wished, and she was relatively certain that he knew better than to attempt to wander; if he didn't, then she would feel no compunction about correcting his error in judgement.
He met her eyes, and she drew the scene of her interrogation to the forefront of her mind, keeping everything else locked tightly away. He scanned through the memory, frowning as he went.
"Where did you learn this technique?" he demanded.
Since he already knew about Fawkes and wasn't likely to accept another explanation, she allowed him to glimpse the session that she had witnessed.
In her mind as he was, he couldn't completely hide his surprise.
"You're far more of a pest than I'd realized."
She nudged him out of her mind, and since he had the politeness to go without protest or attempt at a detour, she decided he couldn't possibly be that upset.
Re-establishing her complete mental shields, she said with every appearance of earnestness, "I can't think how you failed to notice."
Harry made a strangled sound that she knew was his attempt not to laugh out loud.
Severus's lips tipped up ever so slightly, and Hermione narrowly forbore grinning, reminded of happier times. She restrained herself to a small smile. Probably she should be less agreeable, but that always seemed excessive when he was being halfway cordial.
Still, though, they had a job to do. "I take it Voldemort wants to ensure that you don't have any answers to give Albus when he asks about the Slytherin students?"
"The Dark Lord has not spoken to me on the matter, but he has a history of not telling spies about one another. It strengthens his network."
She nodded. "Unless you object strongly, Harry and I don't intend to test the loyalties of the others beyond verbal questioning without aids. I want those on Voldemort's side to think they have succeeded in infiltrating us."
If they thought this plan was successful, it might slow down any others.
Severus was regarding her closely. "What precautions will you take?"
"I'm sure it goes without saying that none of them will be inducted into the Order. Those who wish to join the DA may do so, as we already know that's likely been breached by sympathizers if not full supporters. Pansy is the only one we will inform of information that we do not fully anticipate Voldemort may be made aware of, but we will hardly be telling her our deepest, darkest secrets. If necessary, the others will be used to spread disinformation."
"You say Miss Parkinson came to you this morning?" he asked.
There was a small chance that he sounded ever so slightly impressed. Of course, if he was working from a "Gryffindors are complete idiots" standpoint, a slight improvement was hardly a stunning accolade.
"You've got two Gryffindors here who are eternal optimists, sir," she answered. "It's always nice to have these sorts of plans ready in advance, just in case."
Severus's look was assessing now.
"Albus may not agree with you."
"Then we shall proceed without him," Hermione answered firmly. "Between Draco, Harry, and me, we have enough capital, property, and magical skill to protect anyone."
The Slytherin considered her for a long moment and then gave a sharp nod. "Very well. You may speak to Albus about the matter."
Harry opened his mouth, but a sharp look from her made him close it again without actually saying anything. She rose, and Harry followed her lead.
"Good morning, Professor," she said politely.
"Sir," Harry managed. Mentally, he snarled, The man is impossible. As if we need his permission!
She offered no argument. The good moments came, and the good moments went.
At least there hadn't been any yelling or point loss.
Once they were up in the headmaster's office, had been plied with tea—and had neutralized the Calming Draught in the hot liquid—they informed Albus of both Pansy's news and their plan of support, presenting it as a fait accompli, which Albus didn't fail to notice. After a couple leading remarks about how helpful it would be to have as many people on their side as possible, he allowed them to have their way; no one would be "strongly encouraged" to fight.
Both she and Harry were of the firm belief that forcing anyone to their side wasn't much better than what Voldemort did. It definitely didn't inspire any sort of loyalty. As far as they were concerned, freedom had to be offered with no strings attached or it wasn't freedom.
Albus agreed that if it became necessary, alternative quarters would be arranged for those seventh-years who needed it. They hoped, however, that the fact that all the seventh-years were taking part in this scheme meant that such drastic measures would not need to be taken. Hermione was pretty sure that none of these Slytherins were going to be loudly announcing that they'd sided with Harry.
Back in their rooms, they explained to Pansy and Draco that Albus had accepted their proposition, and they detailed the changes he was willing to make and those which he intended to put off as long as possible. They left out any mention of Severus, although she agreed when Harry observed to her privately and with annoyance that he felt as though they had become messengers forced to constantly repeat the same messages between disparate groups of people who should have been able to meet but couldn't.
Their job wasn't over, either, because once they sent Pansy off to inform the Slytherins, they had to make sure that the core members of the DA weren't going to kick up a fuss if a bunch of Slytherins tried to join; so long as those members were in accord, the rest would come along eventually.
They checked the Map and then went out to retrieve Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Hermione still found it a cross between amusing and fitting that they all felt comfortable sending Draco after the youngest Weasley (who was in the library) while Harry went to get Neville (in the Gryffindor common room) and Hermione was tasked with retrieving Luna (who for reasons best known to herself was charmed to hang upside down in a broom cupboard in a deserted sixth-floor corridor).
Hermione was pretty sure that Luna would have gone with the flow without having been spoken to first, but she didn't want to leave the woman out; those three had become quite a team since fifth year, and they balanced each other out well.
Fortunately, Ginny was a great deal more reasonable than Ron, and she got on quite well with Draco, all things considered. Neville and Luna were willing to trust Hermione and Harry's judgement paired with Draco's overt behaviour in the nearly two months that he had been in the frequent company of Hermione and Harry. It wasn't long at all before they'd agreed to support whoever came to the next meeting while always remembering that any member there could turn out to be working for Voldemort.
Hermione and Harry heaved sighs of relief once the three of them were gone, as they were ready for their Sunday to unfold more naturally once again. Still, as Draco was quick to point out to them, could they imagine how it would have gone if it had been Ron they were trying to convince? They could, indeed, count their blessings.
The new week started with everyone still agog about the fact that Viktor was amongst them daily and actually teaching them. It seemed as though everyone who wasn't Hermione had developed a stronger or new-found interest in brooms and flying and Quidditch. Draco found it highly amusing that the person Viktor wanted to spend his time with was the one who was completely uninterested in those subjects.
"You don't see Harry being close friends with all the Boy Who Lived hangers-on, do you?" she asked. "Celebrities are real people on the inside, and they want to get close to people who are interested in the real them, not what's made them famous."
Harry seconded this immediately.
Draco widened his eyes in an expression of mock horror. "You're not looking for someone who worships the ground you walk on, Golden Boy? Whatever shall I do?"
They both laughed, although it wasn't long before Hermione determined to make herself scarce that evening; from the side-long glances Draco kept casting Harry's way, she was pretty sure that at the earliest opportunity, Harry was going to be in for a rather pleasant demonstration of one of the ways in which Draco liked "just Harry" very much indeed.
They settled in with homework for the afternoon, continuing on for several hours after dinner before Hermione declared her intention of going to the library to do research for several hours. Harry stopped her at the door with a hand on her arm.
He eyed the giant pile of books that she currently had stacked next to the couch.
"You don't really need more books, do you?" he asked quietly.
She smiled at him. "I always need more books, Harry. In this particularly case, I also thought you might benefit from my not being around for a little while."
Harry blushed, but it was clear that he hadn't missed all of the glances that Draco had been giving him.
"You don't have to stay away, though," he reassured her. "It's your room, too."
"I know," she answered easily. "I don't mind."
"But you don't have to stay away long," he said anxiously. "I don't want you to feel as though you can't come back."
"Half ten," she suggested.
"Ten would be fine," he declared with assurance. "We can have tea before bed."
"Sure, Harry," she agreed, knowing better than to try to argue. She gave Draco a little wave. "See you later, Draco."
Draco nodded at her, and she headed off to the library.
When Hermione got back to her quarters, she was mostly amused by what she found. This was now the third time that she'd come across Harry and Draco having sex in the common room, and she still couldn't figure out why they couldn't use Harry's bedroom—or Draco's, for that matter.
It didn't completely surprise her that Draco was a bit of an exhibitionist or at least that he didn't much care who saw him; he had been raised a Malfoy, and Malfoys had a long history of doing what they wanted, when they wanted, where they wanted, leaving everyone else to get out of the way or accommodate them. Harry, by contrast, while not precisely shy, was a novice at relationships and had a positive abhorrence for his business being taken up by other people.
Given this, she would have thought that his prudence would counterbalance Draco's lack thereof when it came to the two of them being intimate in places where others could see.
This time, Harry had known full well what was likely to happen once she left, and she and Harry had decided on a specific time for her to return. Figuring it was about time that they learnt a lesson of some sort, she simply threw up a barrier that blocked sight and sound between her half of the room and theirs and continued her homework on an armchair as planned.
It was nearly thirty minutes later before Harry's head popped through the shield.
"I didn't expect you back so soon." He sounded out of breath and was already red-faced.
"What time do you recall my saying I'd return?" she asked.
"Half ten."
She was rather amused that he'd glossed right over the fact that he'd told her to come back at ten.
"And what time is it now?" she asked patiently.
He cast Tempus. "Nearly twelve."
She nodded, still working on her Runes paper. She'd managed a whole set of rounds after the library had closed for the evening. Helpfully, she suggested, "You were perhaps trying to indicate that you'd lost track of the time."
"Yes," he agreed, seizing this explanation obediently. "That must have been it. I'll, uh, try not to do that anymore."
She shrugged. "You're the ones who are showing me a great deal of your bare-naked bodies. If it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me."
Which wasn't quite true, but near enough.
"No, it … We'll … I'll keep better track of the time," he assured her, tongue-tied.
"All right, then," she agreed placidly. "You can Finite the barrier once you're both decent."
Harry blushed a brighter red, nodded, and disappeared completely behind the barrier once more.
She figured she'd probably arranged for at least a week of good behaviour and sort of wished that she had a reason to desire it. Such as her bringing her own man home, which was, unfortunately, not going to happen any time soon. Still, it was amusing to contemplate Severus's reaction if she were to bring him back to her quarters to find Draco and Harry having sex in the common room. Harry would never live it down, and it would be awfully amusing to watch the two men interact in Potions class…. She shook her head, trying to banish the stray thoughts and return to her Ancient Runes. They were all lucky she didn't give in to her evil impulses more often.
N.E.W.T.s were now in less than three months, and their professors seemed very fond of reminding them of this fact at every opportunity. Wednesday's Transfiguration class consisted of Minerva reminding them of all the different types of transformations they needed to be capable of for their finals including what they were working on right now, which was transforming from human into an inanimate object.
They'd been preparing for the spell for multiple classes now, practicing wand movements, pronunciation, transformation of hair and even limbs, all working their way towards the full transformation. It was a difficult transformation for humans to maintain because it was so contrary to their natural, living state.
Even more difficult was transforming into multiple inanimate objects, which Minerva said that very few people could achieve; she didn't expect any of them to attempt it, as it could have very nasty results—in the nature of detached body parts—if it went wrong.
As far as Hermione understood it, it couldn't be a lot worse than Splinching, not that she'd ever done that, and the wizarding world asked its children to learn to Apparate at a younger age than they were now attempting these transfigurations.
She knew, on some level, that it wouldn't be especially wise to plan a particularly challenging transformation on her first attempt. But an image of what she wanted to be had appeared in her head as soon as Minerva had first broached the subject, and she couldn't really help herself.
Mentally, she made a production of cracking her knuckles.
Somebody has a plan, Harry said in a singsong voice.
She smiled at him. Maybe.
Let's see, then.
For an instant, she flashed back to a scene six-and-a-half years ago when she had demanded the same of the red-haired boy who had become Harry's best friend. Wryly, she hoped that this spell was about to go much better for her than his had for him.
Minerva had told them to pick a simple object, and Hermione told herself that she could have chosen something a great deal more complex, so planning to turn herself into a little wooden bookshelf complete with a set of books wasn't that ridiculous.
Really, after mastering the Animagus transformation—into a magical animal, no less—any other sort of transformation simply didn't seem very daunting. She knew what it felt like to transform, and in this case, it was just into wood and paper rather than into the flesh and blood of a unicorn.
She visualised clearly as Minerva had instructed and cast with her wand in her hand since she was in the middle of class.
She found herself on the floor with no memory of falling, breathing in great gulps of air, chest heaving, and the unalterable, absolute certainty that what she had done was wrong.
It was in her top ten list of painful experiences, though it fell below Draco's Cruciatus, Dolohov's Cutting Curse, and probably Severus's Skin-burning Hex. It wasn't painful in the way that those had been, it was more … abhorrent, like every part of her body had rebelled against what she had tried to do, much as she had imagined that casting an Unforgivable would feel like until you killed enough of your soul that you didn't notice so much anymore—not that she'd actually asked anyone who might actually know.
Harry and Draco were crowded around her asking her what had happened and if she was all right, and her collapse had attracted the attention of Minerva—and the entire class.
Minerva's expression as she approached was a cross between concern and disapproval.
"Miss Granger, ten points from Gryffindor for failing to heed my instructions. I told you to start simply. Let's get you up."
It took the combined efforts of Draco and Harry to haul her to her feet because she couldn't seem to manage it herself. They helped her to the nearest desk, and she sank onto the chair gratefully.
"I believe you would benefit from a visit to Madam Pomfrey," Minerva said, eyeing her appraisingly.
"Oh, no," Hermione hastened to assure her. "I'm fine. I just need to rest a bit. I'd really rather not miss the rest of class."
"Are you certain?"
Really certain? Harry wanted to know. You don't look so good.
"I'm quite sure," Hermione said to both of them. "I promise I'll go if I need to. I'm really feeling much better."
Lies, all lies. She felt as though she'd been flattened by the Hogwarts Express, but she didn't want to be examined by Poppy and turn this into an ever bigger production than it already was. Harry and Draco were still looking at her with concern.
"Very well," Minerva said, and then she turned back to the rest of the class, voice pitching louder. "As you have just seen, attempting a transformation more complicated than your body is capable of can result in it rejecting the transformation with all the attendant magical backlash. Assuming that not all of you are quite as ambitious as Miss Granger, we should be able to avoid any more accidents."
Hermione's cheeks were burning. She'd just become an object lesson, and she couldn't think, off the top of her head, of an occasion where she had been held up as the failure and the standard not to emulate.
How utterly embarrassing.
Harry was still looking at Hermione worriedly, which was perhaps why Minerva chose him next. She tolerated inattentive classes pretty much as poorly as Severus did. "Mr Potter, what can you do for me?"
The Gryffindor boy looked at her almost as though he had no idea what she was saying, but presently, the words seemed to register, and he rallied visibly, though he cast another side-long glance at Hermione.
You'll be fine, Harry. You're not going to try to show off outrageously like me, and so you're going to get it perfectly right.
Hermione sincerely hoped so, anyway, but at least she'd done a good job of sounding certain since she still had no idea what had gone wrong with her. She couldn't quite wrap her brain around her magic being unequal to the transformation that she had planned, but perhaps that just meant this had been a necessary knock to her pride.
Harry drew his wand, took a deep breath, and transformed.
Hermione let out a little sigh that she told herself was all relief and not a bit of jealousy over the fact that Harry had transformed seamlessly into a three-branched wrought-iron candelabra complete with lit candles.
Hermione wasn't so sure that that qualified as the simple transformation that Minerva was looking for, but it had been successful and brilliant.
Minerva leaned in to examine the details of Harry's transformation more closely. "Very nice work, Mr Potter. Flames are notoriously difficult to manage. Ten points to Gryffindor."
At least it evened out with Hermione's point loss. She couldn't think of the last time that Minerva had taken points away from her, either. First year and Norbert, maybe….
Hermione supposed a widespread Obliviate would be considered a misuse of her magic.
Harry transformed back into a human and was applauded for his effort. Hermione made sure to clap loudly because she was embarrassed with herself for resenting his success.
Draco was next, and he transformed into a table with attached lamp. Hermione was amused how he had skirted around Minerva's rules to show that he, too, possessed the coordination and control to achieve distinct textures and shapes. It looked to Hermione as though Minerva's lips twitched before she nodded her approval and moved on to the next student.
Harry came to sit with Hermione, and she spent the rest of the class reassuring him that she was just fine and watching her classmates transform much more successfully than she had. Even the ones who didn't get it right on the first go didn't nearly knock themselves out.
As the other students were packing up at the end of class, Minerva asked Hermione to stay behind.
"We'll wait for you," Harry said promptly.
Hermione rose to her feet, pleased by how steady she felt now. "Don't be silly, Harry. You two head down to lunch and I'll meet you down there."
"But—"
"Harry," she admonished, "I'm fine, and unless you want a demonstration of the fact that I am still perfectly capable of wiping the floor with you, go on."
One of Draco's eyebrows arched gracefully. "Because I'm sure Professor McGonagall would let you duel for supremacy in front of her."
"You're not helping," Hermione chided. "Take Harry to lunch."
Honestly, Harry, Hermione said with exasperation. It's only Minerva who wants to talk to me, and I can call a number of people for help at a moment's notice in the unlikely event that I suddenly require assistance.
He finally allowed himself to be persuaded.
Once the classroom emptied, Minerva cast privacy charms.
"How are you feeling now, Hermione?"
"Much better, thank you," Hermione assured the other woman.
"I have always considered you to be one of the brightest pupils I've ever had the privilege of teaching, Hermione."
"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione said hesitantly since she could practically taste the Abut" that was hanging on the end of that sentence, and she really didn't want Minerva to call her stupid.
"I trust you were not attempting to transform into an entire room's worth of furniture or something equally unwise." Hermione shook her head hurriedly. "In which case, your reaction was rather extreme and suggests a block of some kind rather than an overextension."
Hermione nodded; the thought had occurred to her, but the notion of being blocked against books seemed sort of … absurd. Contrary to the laws of nature or something like that.
"It happens to the best of us," Minerva said kindly, having evidently not missed Hermione's struggle with her embarrassment and incomprehension. "We will always come across spells that we cannot perform for one reason or another; some obstacles are surmountable and others are not. I would like you to investigate, therefore, and keep me apprised of your progress."
"Of course." Ruefully, she added, "I am sorry I held up class so much. I was hoping to be a good example."
"If you inspired caution in even a few of them, that is quite useful."
Hermione sighed, and Minerva patted her on the shoulder.
"Go ahead to lunch, Hermione. But do see Poppy if you experience any untoward symptoms in the next couple of days."
"I'll keep my eye out for anything unusual," Hermione promised. "Thank you, Professor."
She left Minerva gathering up homework scrolls at her desk and headed for the Great Hall. She'd only just made it to the next corridor when her arm was seized roughly.