Ancient Runes in the Modern World - 1/? - Teen - Blaise/Hermione
Title: Ancient Runes in the Modern World (1/?)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Sixth year continues in the sequel to The Importance of Ancient Runes. Of course, nothing ever runs smoothly, especially when you're at Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat wanted unity between the houses - this probably is not what it had in mind.
Word Count: 3380.
Chapter One: In Which Everyone Takes a Trip to Hogsmeade
Pansy slumped into the seat next to Blaise with a loud, dramatic sigh. Blaise closed his diary quickly, aware that the Slytherin Prefect was already trying to take a glimpse at what he had written.
“Something the matter, Pansy?” Blaise asked, quirking an eyebrow.
She shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him and instead choosing to stare at the leather cover of his diary. She had given it to him for Christmas, along with new quills and ink. “What are you writing about?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Not your Valentine?”
“My what?”
“Valentine,” she said with a sly smile. “You do know what day it is tomorrow, don’t you?” Blaise glanced quickly at the bunch of bright pink balloons that had been attached to one of the armchairs on the other side of the common room. A vase of pink carnations was sitting on the side table.
“Yes,” he said resignedly. Of course he knew. How could he miss it? Valentines Day. “I don’t have a Valentine,” he added.
Pansy looked sceptical. “Really?”
Blaise decided that he would try to change the subject. “What about you? Got something planned with lover boy?” She scowled.
“Gryffindors,” she said decisively, “are more trouble than they’re worth.”
For a moment, Blaise said nothing. Then, in a low voice, “You and Weasley had a fight?”
She sighed again. “Something like that.” Pansy went to tug his diary from his hands and Blaise moved it out of her reach, glaring at her. She grinned.
“What’ve you been fighting about?”
Raising her eyebrows, Pansy said, “Surely it’s not too much to ask for a boyfriend to spend time with his girlfriend.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, hoping that none of the other Slytherins would hear their conversation. “He’s been spending all his time with Potter and Granger lately and I’m starting to feel a bit neglected.” She eyed Blaise carefully. “Speaking of them, when are you going to make a move on my boyfriend’s best friend?”
“Potter’s not really my type,” Blaise said with a yawn.
“That’s not the friend I was on about,” Pansy hissed and Blaise yawned again. “Are you all right?” she asked, sounding concerned. “You’ve been yawning all day.”
Millicent sat down heavily on the footstool. “He’s probably been up all night thinking about his lady love.” She winked at Blaise and he could feel his face reddening. The cheek of it.
Pansy pulled a face. “Thanks, Millicent. That’s not a vision I wanted.”
“I’m just tired,” Blaise protested. He did not want Millicent and Pansy thinking about him in that sort of situation. He stood up, towering over the two girls. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Need any company?” Millicent asked. “I’ve just had to sit through McGonagall droning on for an hour and a half.” Blaise shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
He tucked his diary and quill into his bag, hefting it up onto his shoulder. As he and Millicent walked up the stairs from the dungeons, he said, “Do you think I’m being an idiot?”
“No.” She did not even have to ask what about.
“Really?”
“Really. I think you’re being sensible.” Millicent pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Just because Pansy and her plaything can make it work doesn’t mean that everyone can.”
“Does she know you call him that?”
Millicent did not reply and instead dug her hands into the pockets of her robes. They walked in silence, stepping into the Entrance Hall a few minutes later. “Do you know about my parents?”
Blaise thought for a moment. “Which ones?”
Her lips twisted into a small smile. “The real ones.” She sighed. “It’s not exactly common knowledge, but John Bulstrode isn’t my biological father.”
“He just married your mother when she was pregnant with you.”
“Because my real father died. Exactly. Mum and Dad were best friends and they did it to keep up appearances. I know that they’re in love now, but they weren’t then.”
Blinking, Blaise said, “And what exactly does this have to do with me?”
“My real father was a Gryffindor.”
“He what?” This was news to Blaise and he stopped walking. However, Millicent continued outside into the courtyard. It took a couple of moments for this news to sink in and Blaise had to stride quickly to keep up with the Slytherin girl. “What? Are you saying that all Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships are doomed?”
“No,” Millicent said patiently. “I’m saying that who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t died? I could be in Gryffindor for all I know!” She frowned. “What I’m trying to say is that your house shouldn’t matter.”
“But it does,” Blaise said. “It always matters.”
Millicent bowed her head, moving to sit on a bench. “You shouldn’t let it.”
Blaise looked curiously at her for a moment before sliding onto the bench next to Millicent. “Who is he?” he asked.
A couple of passing Ravenclaws gave them a dirty look as they walked by and Blaise gave them a defiant glare.
“Do you promise you won’t tell anyone?” Millicent asked.
“You sound like Pansy when she told me about,” a small group of Gryffindors walked past chattering loudly and Blaise lowered his voice, “you know.”
“Blaise,” she warned. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“I promise.”
She looked sheepish. “Ernie,” she whispered. It took a few moments of flipping through his internal filing system to recognise the name.
“McMillan?” he asked. “The Hufflepuff prefect?”
“What can I say?” she said flippantly. “I love authority figures.” She grinned. “He’s asked me to meet him in Hogsmeade this weekend.”
“Are you going to?”
“I think so. We shall see.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you meeting anyone in particular?”
Blaise scowled. “I take it that by ‘anyone in particular’ you mean ‘Granger’?”
“Of course.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Just because.”
*****
“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” Ginny Weasley asked, looking up when Hermione took a seat opposite her. She had been studying in the Library for nearly an hour and the words on the page were staring to swim before her eyes. Hermione’s arrival was a welcome distraction.
“I think I need a couple new bottles of ink,” Hermione said. “So it looks like I’ll have to go.” She looked hopefully at Ginny. “Unless you could pick some up for me?”
“Sorry. I’m planning on some serious lip action with Alex.”
“Alex? Won’t Dean mind?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Hermione. I broke up with him last week.”
Hermione was actually surprised by this. “Oh. Actually, I didn’t know. Sorry.” She opened the heavy book that she had put down on the desk, the contents page row upon row of tiny letters. “You’ve moved on to someone else already? Alex, did you say?”
“Yeah. He’s a Ravenclaw.” A blush flooded Ginny’s cheeks. “It was kind of before, actually.”
“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed, aghast at the idea of Ginny cheating on Dean. “Did Dean know?”
“Of course not,” Ginny scorned. “Anyway, I was the one who dumped him.”
Hermione sighed. “I’m never going to understand you,” she announced, scanning the list of contents.
“And I’m never going to understand you,” Ginny agreed.
“So you’re not going to get my ink?” Hermione asked, frowning. Ginny shook her head and Hermione shrugged. “It looks like I’ll have to go to Hogsmeade, then.”
Someone cleared their throat behind them and both Gryffindors looked up. Ginny grinned when she saw Justin Finch-Fletchley standing there. She made a show of looking at her watch. “My, look at the time. I told Luna I would help her with her Transfiguration.”
The youngest Weasley quickly collected up her belongings, giving Hermione a quick squeeze on the shoulder as she brushed past. Hermione scowled, and then turned back to Justin.
“Hello, Justin,” she said dryly. She had seen him sitting a couple of table away when she had entered the Library. She thought that avoiding him and sitting with Ginny would be the safest option. Apparently not.
She had tried her best to avoid him ever since New Years Eve, only putting up with him in Ancient Runes because she had very little choice in a class so small. “Hey, Hermione,” he said, smiling. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
I bet you couldn’t, she thought. You were probably listening from the moment I opened my mouth. “And?”
“Well, I was planning on going to Hogsmeade tomorrow to get some parchment and seeing as you need some ink…”
“You’ll get it for me?” Hermione asked, relieved. It would certainly save her a trip into the village if the Hufflepuff could get it for him.
He looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I was thinking that you might want to walk down with me. But, sure, I suppose I can pick up some ink if you want me to.” Justin looked severely disappointed and Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the Hufflepuff.
“Oh. That would be good,” she said weakly. “I could probably use the company.” What am I doing? she asked herself. Take it back! Say no! No! No! No!
Justin grinned. “That’s great. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning in the Entrance Hall. Is ten o’clock alright for you?”
Nodding, Hermione said, “Sure. That’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Bye!”
When she was sure that he was out of view, Hermione slammed her head on her book in annoyance. Ow. Also, I am an idiot. It‘s official. Hermione Granger, idiot extraordinaire.
*****
After a cat-like yawn, Blaise apologised. Millicent rolled her eyes. “If you’re that tired,” she said, “why don’t you go to bed?”
“Because it’s only eight o’clock,” Blaise said, rubbing his eye.
“Does that matter?” Daphne asked. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” he agreed, wincing slightly as a pack of Exploding Snap cards that were sat on the table next to him did what they were designed to do.
Delilah, Pansy’s cat, leapt onto Blaise’s lap and he gave a hiss of annoyance. Tail up in the air, she clambered over Blaise and onto her owner. Pansy smiled, rubbing Delilah behind the ears. “Hello, darling,” she cooed, “how’re you?”
“Do you talk to lover boy like that?” Millicent asked with a slight sneer. Pansy sniffed indignantly.
“Delilah’s my baby and I shall talk to her however I want.”
“Your baby?” asked Blaise. “I don’t want to know who the father is if that’s the offspring.”
Pansy scowled. “Shut up, Blaise.”
“Is that the best comeback you can think of?” he said, trying to stave off a yawn. The cards exploded again and Blaise briefly considered throwing them into the fireplace. Granted, the fire was not alight, but it was the thought that counted in his opinion.
She didn’t reply, instead continuing to stroke Delilah’s white fur.
“Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us tomorrow?” asked Daphne, who was chewing on a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.
“If I must,” said Blaise.
“Yes, you must,” said Millicent. “We need you to help disguise the fact that Pansy’s going to sneak off to be with lover boy.”
“Stop calling him that,” Pansy protested. Delilah hissed.
Millicent arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather that we referred to him by name for everyone to hear?” Pansy’s eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. “Exactly.”
“By ‘disguise’,” said Blaise, “I sincerely hope that you don’t intend for me to dress up.”
“Nope,” said Daphne with a grin.
“Good,” Blaise said with a sigh. He cast a sideways glance at Pansy. “Your shoes are too big for me anyway.”
Pansy’s face was a picture of fury. “Hey! My feet aren’t that big!”
“They’re bigger than mine,” said Millicent. “Mine are quite large.”
“You’re not helping.” Pansy glared at Millicent.
Once again, Blaise yawned. “I think I might go to bed,” he said, “before the catfight begins.” Delilah raised her head at this.
“Night night Blaisiekins,” Millicent said, also fighting a yawn. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Stepping into his dormitory, Blaise nearly tripped over a pair of Theodore’s shoes. He swore in Italian, kicking them to one side. One of them landed on top of Draco’s Quidditch robes. From what he could tell, Draco was attempting to persuade Professor Snape that he should be allowed back on the Quidditch team. Blaise had a suspicion that this was due to the upcoming match against Gryffindor.
He shrugged off his robes, putting them on a coat hanger before hanging his clothes in his wardrobe. As he put his shirt into the basket to be washed, he noticed a snag on the elbow. Blaise made a mental note to get it repaired as soon as possible. After all, as clearly stated in the Slytherin code of conduct, a stitch in time saves money on tailoring costs.
There was no one else around. He had seen Theodore leave the common room earlier, the books under his arm suggesting that he was bound for the library. Crabbe and Goyle had been playing Gobstones in the common room. As for Malfoy, well, he was not even worth a second thought.
Blaise’s favourite pyjamas were about three years old, far too short in the legs and the seam under the left arm had split more than once, but Blaise refused to throw them away. Sentimental value and all that. Besides, they were probably the most comfortable item of clothing he owned.
The lights in the dormitory faded as he peeled back the bed covers. Okay, so he was more than tired. He was exhausted and his eyes shut tight as soon as his head hit the pillow. If only he did not have to go shopping with the girls tomorrow.
Why did I agree to go? His thoughts felt blurry. I obviously have too much time on my hands.
*****
Daphne Greengrass peered at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. “Do you think I should tie my hair up?” she asked.
Sitting in an armchair, handbag on her lap, Pansy said, “No. You’ve already spent an hour doing your hair this morning, Daffy.”
“It looks fine,” Millicent assured her, not even looking up from the copy of Witch Weekly that she was reading. Daphne tugged again on a lock of blonde hair.
“But are you sure?” she asked, wringing her hands.
“Yes,” Pansy snapped. She looked at her watch. “Are you sure Zabini said he was coming?” she asked with a sigh. “We’re going to be late.”
“Late?” Millicent asked with a sly grin. “Planning on meeting someone?”
The Slytherin prefect scowled. “You know bloody well I am.”
“You’re even starting to sound like him,” Millicent said airily.
“I am not!” She let out a growl and cast a glance at the door that led to the boy’s dormitories. “I’m going to go and find Blaise,” she announced heading towards the door.
Daphne gasped. “But that’s the boys dormitory,” she said fearfully.
“What’s the matter with that?” Pansy asked. “It’s not as though there’s magic to keep me from going in there.” She sniffed. “Besides, I am a Slytherin prefect and I am concerned for the welfare of a fellow student.” Pansy pushed out her chest proudly. “It is my duty, nay, my right to go in there.”
Millicent rolled her eyes. “That’s enough theatrics for one day, Pansy.”
“But there might be boys in there,” Daphne said. “And they might be naked.” Her eyes were wide.
Pansy and Millicent exchanged a look. “I’m not entirely sure what the problem is, are you Millie?” Pansy asked. Millicent shook her head.
“Daphne brings up a very good point, though,” she said. “I might have to accompany you, Pansy. You know, to save you from all the evil naked men in there.”
“My saviour!” Pansy swooned as Millicent stood up and followed her in the corridor. She burst into giggles as the door shut behind them. “Bless,” she said with a smile. “She can be so innocent sometimes.”
“Only sometimes,” Millicent agreed, wrinkling her nose and thinking of several occasions on which Daphne had been anything but innocent. “It smells a bit, doesn’t it?” Pansy nodded, knocking on the door of the sixth year’s boys dormitory.
Waiting a few moments, Pansy knocked again.
“Blaise, get your lazy arse out here now!” Millicent called, hoping to rouse him.
The door next to Blaise’s dormitory which, oddly enough, read ‘Third Years’ opened and a small boy with red hair looked fearfully at the two older girls. “I don’t think there’s anyone in there. I went in earlier to see Mr Malfoy,” Millicent giggled at this, “and he was the only one in there. Him and that cat.”
“Which cat?” Pansy asked and the boy nodded at a black cat that was curled up on the other side of the corridor, evidently asleep. “Must be Nott’s,” she said to Millicent.
“Nott has a cat?” Millicent asked. Pansy shrugged.
“Must do.” She looked at it and said, “Yeah, now I come to think of it, it looks familiar. I think Delilah was chasing it the other day.”
Millicent shook her head in amusement. “Your cat is mad,” she remarked. “It’ll chase anything that moves.”
Shrugging, Pansy said, “It doesn’t even have to be moving.”
*****
Hermione checked her reflection in one of Filch’s shining suits of armour. Justin was late and she was starting to grow impatient. She adjusted her scarf, a Christmas present from her grandmother. It was pale pink and she thought that it made her cheeks look too red, but wore it anyway so that she could at least tell her grandmother honestly how warm it was.
Strolling into the Entrance Hall with Ernie McMillan at his side, Justin did not even seem to notice that it was now ten past.
“Morning, Hermione,” he said brightly. “Ernie’s going to walk down to the village with us. Is that alright?”
Hermione was actually rather glad about this. She did not want to be left alone with Justin for extended periods and she nodded in response.
As they walked down to Hogsmeade, Ernie and Justin talked about Quidditch and the mysterious girl that Ernie was supposed to be meeting in Hogsmeade. “He won’t tell me who she is,” Justin explained to Hermione. Hermione shoved her hands in her pockets - she had forgotten her gloves.
“That’s because I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Ernie pointed out.
“He’s entitled to his secrets,” Hermione said diplomatically and wondering where Crookshanks was.
Justin shrugged. “Anyone would think he was ashamed of her, that’s all.”
“I’m not ashamed of her,” Ernie said bitterly. “I just don’t want to tall you who she is.”
“Don’t start fighting,” Hermione said and realising that she had not seen Crookshanks in several days.
Justin’s arm was touching hers as they walked and the conversation between the two Hufflepuffs quickly returned to Quidditch. As they passed the Hogsmeade sign, his arm linked with hers and she inwardly winced but tried not to show any emotion apart from a small smile.
Just ignore him, she told herself. He’s just a Hufflepuff, not some Skrewt. He won’t hurt you.
Outside Honeydukes’, Hermione spotted the three Slytherin girls. Millicent and Daphne were staring in the window, Daphne’s mouth moving in excited speech.
“I could do with some chocolate,” Ernie announced suddenly.
Justin frowned. “It’ll be packed in there this time of day. Can’t you wait until later?”
“No.” Ernie was particularly firm about this and proceeded to drag Hermione and Justin over to the sweet shop. Ernie looked at the door. “It looks like there are a lot of people in there,” he said, far louder than Hermione was sure was necessary. “Why don’t you wait outside?”
“Fine,” Justin said with a roll of his eyes. He turned to Hermione. “You don’t mind, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
A couple of moments after Ernie went into Honeydukes’, Hermione saw Daphne and Millicent exchange a look and then Millicent went into the shop.
Interesting, Hermione thought. Is Millicent the mystery girl?
“Granger.” Pansy Parkinson looked like a snow queen in her white cloak and hat.
“Parkinson,” Hermione replied cordially.
“Can I have a word?” Her dark eyes flickered to Justin. “Privately.”
Hermione apologised to Justin and followed Pansy a little way off to the left, stepping around a couple who were caught up in the romantic mood of the village. “I like your scarf,” Pansy said.
“You brought me over here to compliment me?” Hermione asked.
Pansy shook her head. “Actually, I wanted to know if you’ve seen Blaise.”
“Why?”
“He’d already gone by the time we called for him this morning.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Hermione said truthfully. She really had not, not since the last Ancient Runes lesson, at any rate.
“Oh.” The Slytherin girl seemed slightly confused. “Thanks, Granger.”
“That’s alright. He’s probably just found a new supply of coffee and is busy drowning himself in it.”
“Either that or the prat’s gone for another swim in the lake and got frostbite,” Pansy said with a grin. “Thanks anyway.”
Hermione nodded. “No problem.”
*****
Seamus peered at Hermione’s parchment. “D’you understand any of this?” he asked in a whisper.
“Just about,” replied Hermione as she finished copying down her verb table.
Troll. What one would imagine to be a ‘dead easy’ language (as Seamus put it), was actually more complex than it first appeared.
“Can I borrow your notes later? Because this isn’t making any sense to me.”
“Sure,” she agreed, not really listening.
“Really?” Seamus grinned. “Hey, what are you planning to do next year?”
“Pardon?” she looked up at him, jogging her quill across her parchment. She frowned, reaching for her wand to clean it up.
“Next year,” he prodded. “Which languages are you going to concentrate on?” As part of their seventh year studies, the students in the Modern and Magical Languages class were required to choose a family of languages to focus their study on.
She gave a slight shrug, aware of Daphne watching her. The blonde Slytherin was chewing on her lip, blue eyes focused on Hermione rather than her work. “Haven’t decided yet. You?”
Seamus added a final flourish to his sketch of a troll. With a wry grin, he said, “I’m rather partial to the Celtic languages. I might do Germanic, though, like Greengrass.”
“We don’t have to decide until May, though,” said Hermione. Daphne seemed to be mouthing something to her. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement and she gave Daphne a look as though to say “What?”
Daphne reached for a piece of parchment and, a minute later, a paper swan flitted its way over to Hermione’s desk. Seamus looked at Hermione quizzically, but she ignored him.
I need to speak to you.
XXXDaphne.
Her handwriting was what Hermione would describe as ‘flowery’, and she turned her ‘O’s into smiley faces.
“What’s up with Greengrass?” asked Seamus in a low voice.
“Nothing,” said Hermione dismissively. “She’s just strange like that.”
After the lesson, Daphne yanked Hermione aside in the corridor. “Ow,” said Hermione rubbing her elbow. “There’s no need to be so rough.”
“Sorry,” Daphne apologised with wide eyes. “I just thought you should know.”
“Know what?” She was genuinely confused.
Daphne bit her lip. “Blaise is missing. No one’s seen him since Friday night.”
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Sixth year continues in the sequel to The Importance of Ancient Runes. Of course, nothing ever runs smoothly, especially when you're at Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat wanted unity between the houses - this probably is not what it had in mind.
Word Count: 3380.
Chapter One: In Which Everyone Takes a Trip to Hogsmeade
Pansy slumped into the seat next to Blaise with a loud, dramatic sigh. Blaise closed his diary quickly, aware that the Slytherin Prefect was already trying to take a glimpse at what he had written.
“Something the matter, Pansy?” Blaise asked, quirking an eyebrow.
She shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him and instead choosing to stare at the leather cover of his diary. She had given it to him for Christmas, along with new quills and ink. “What are you writing about?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Not your Valentine?”
“My what?”
“Valentine,” she said with a sly smile. “You do know what day it is tomorrow, don’t you?” Blaise glanced quickly at the bunch of bright pink balloons that had been attached to one of the armchairs on the other side of the common room. A vase of pink carnations was sitting on the side table.
“Yes,” he said resignedly. Of course he knew. How could he miss it? Valentines Day. “I don’t have a Valentine,” he added.
Pansy looked sceptical. “Really?”
Blaise decided that he would try to change the subject. “What about you? Got something planned with lover boy?” She scowled.
“Gryffindors,” she said decisively, “are more trouble than they’re worth.”
For a moment, Blaise said nothing. Then, in a low voice, “You and Weasley had a fight?”
She sighed again. “Something like that.” Pansy went to tug his diary from his hands and Blaise moved it out of her reach, glaring at her. She grinned.
“What’ve you been fighting about?”
Raising her eyebrows, Pansy said, “Surely it’s not too much to ask for a boyfriend to spend time with his girlfriend.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, hoping that none of the other Slytherins would hear their conversation. “He’s been spending all his time with Potter and Granger lately and I’m starting to feel a bit neglected.” She eyed Blaise carefully. “Speaking of them, when are you going to make a move on my boyfriend’s best friend?”
“Potter’s not really my type,” Blaise said with a yawn.
“That’s not the friend I was on about,” Pansy hissed and Blaise yawned again. “Are you all right?” she asked, sounding concerned. “You’ve been yawning all day.”
Millicent sat down heavily on the footstool. “He’s probably been up all night thinking about his lady love.” She winked at Blaise and he could feel his face reddening. The cheek of it.
Pansy pulled a face. “Thanks, Millicent. That’s not a vision I wanted.”
“I’m just tired,” Blaise protested. He did not want Millicent and Pansy thinking about him in that sort of situation. He stood up, towering over the two girls. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Need any company?” Millicent asked. “I’ve just had to sit through McGonagall droning on for an hour and a half.” Blaise shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
He tucked his diary and quill into his bag, hefting it up onto his shoulder. As he and Millicent walked up the stairs from the dungeons, he said, “Do you think I’m being an idiot?”
“No.” She did not even have to ask what about.
“Really?”
“Really. I think you’re being sensible.” Millicent pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Just because Pansy and her plaything can make it work doesn’t mean that everyone can.”
“Does she know you call him that?”
Millicent did not reply and instead dug her hands into the pockets of her robes. They walked in silence, stepping into the Entrance Hall a few minutes later. “Do you know about my parents?”
Blaise thought for a moment. “Which ones?”
Her lips twisted into a small smile. “The real ones.” She sighed. “It’s not exactly common knowledge, but John Bulstrode isn’t my biological father.”
“He just married your mother when she was pregnant with you.”
“Because my real father died. Exactly. Mum and Dad were best friends and they did it to keep up appearances. I know that they’re in love now, but they weren’t then.”
Blinking, Blaise said, “And what exactly does this have to do with me?”
“My real father was a Gryffindor.”
“He what?” This was news to Blaise and he stopped walking. However, Millicent continued outside into the courtyard. It took a couple of moments for this news to sink in and Blaise had to stride quickly to keep up with the Slytherin girl. “What? Are you saying that all Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships are doomed?”
“No,” Millicent said patiently. “I’m saying that who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t died? I could be in Gryffindor for all I know!” She frowned. “What I’m trying to say is that your house shouldn’t matter.”
“But it does,” Blaise said. “It always matters.”
Millicent bowed her head, moving to sit on a bench. “You shouldn’t let it.”
Blaise looked curiously at her for a moment before sliding onto the bench next to Millicent. “Who is he?” he asked.
A couple of passing Ravenclaws gave them a dirty look as they walked by and Blaise gave them a defiant glare.
“Do you promise you won’t tell anyone?” Millicent asked.
“You sound like Pansy when she told me about,” a small group of Gryffindors walked past chattering loudly and Blaise lowered his voice, “you know.”
“Blaise,” she warned. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“I promise.”
She looked sheepish. “Ernie,” she whispered. It took a few moments of flipping through his internal filing system to recognise the name.
“McMillan?” he asked. “The Hufflepuff prefect?”
“What can I say?” she said flippantly. “I love authority figures.” She grinned. “He’s asked me to meet him in Hogsmeade this weekend.”
“Are you going to?”
“I think so. We shall see.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you meeting anyone in particular?”
Blaise scowled. “I take it that by ‘anyone in particular’ you mean ‘Granger’?”
“Of course.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Just because.”
*****
“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” Ginny Weasley asked, looking up when Hermione took a seat opposite her. She had been studying in the Library for nearly an hour and the words on the page were staring to swim before her eyes. Hermione’s arrival was a welcome distraction.
“I think I need a couple new bottles of ink,” Hermione said. “So it looks like I’ll have to go.” She looked hopefully at Ginny. “Unless you could pick some up for me?”
“Sorry. I’m planning on some serious lip action with Alex.”
“Alex? Won’t Dean mind?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Hermione. I broke up with him last week.”
Hermione was actually surprised by this. “Oh. Actually, I didn’t know. Sorry.” She opened the heavy book that she had put down on the desk, the contents page row upon row of tiny letters. “You’ve moved on to someone else already? Alex, did you say?”
“Yeah. He’s a Ravenclaw.” A blush flooded Ginny’s cheeks. “It was kind of before, actually.”
“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed, aghast at the idea of Ginny cheating on Dean. “Did Dean know?”
“Of course not,” Ginny scorned. “Anyway, I was the one who dumped him.”
Hermione sighed. “I’m never going to understand you,” she announced, scanning the list of contents.
“And I’m never going to understand you,” Ginny agreed.
“So you’re not going to get my ink?” Hermione asked, frowning. Ginny shook her head and Hermione shrugged. “It looks like I’ll have to go to Hogsmeade, then.”
Someone cleared their throat behind them and both Gryffindors looked up. Ginny grinned when she saw Justin Finch-Fletchley standing there. She made a show of looking at her watch. “My, look at the time. I told Luna I would help her with her Transfiguration.”
The youngest Weasley quickly collected up her belongings, giving Hermione a quick squeeze on the shoulder as she brushed past. Hermione scowled, and then turned back to Justin.
“Hello, Justin,” she said dryly. She had seen him sitting a couple of table away when she had entered the Library. She thought that avoiding him and sitting with Ginny would be the safest option. Apparently not.
She had tried her best to avoid him ever since New Years Eve, only putting up with him in Ancient Runes because she had very little choice in a class so small. “Hey, Hermione,” he said, smiling. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
I bet you couldn’t, she thought. You were probably listening from the moment I opened my mouth. “And?”
“Well, I was planning on going to Hogsmeade tomorrow to get some parchment and seeing as you need some ink…”
“You’ll get it for me?” Hermione asked, relieved. It would certainly save her a trip into the village if the Hufflepuff could get it for him.
He looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I was thinking that you might want to walk down with me. But, sure, I suppose I can pick up some ink if you want me to.” Justin looked severely disappointed and Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the Hufflepuff.
“Oh. That would be good,” she said weakly. “I could probably use the company.” What am I doing? she asked herself. Take it back! Say no! No! No! No!
Justin grinned. “That’s great. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning in the Entrance Hall. Is ten o’clock alright for you?”
Nodding, Hermione said, “Sure. That’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Bye!”
When she was sure that he was out of view, Hermione slammed her head on her book in annoyance. Ow. Also, I am an idiot. It‘s official. Hermione Granger, idiot extraordinaire.
*****
After a cat-like yawn, Blaise apologised. Millicent rolled her eyes. “If you’re that tired,” she said, “why don’t you go to bed?”
“Because it’s only eight o’clock,” Blaise said, rubbing his eye.
“Does that matter?” Daphne asked. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” he agreed, wincing slightly as a pack of Exploding Snap cards that were sat on the table next to him did what they were designed to do.
Delilah, Pansy’s cat, leapt onto Blaise’s lap and he gave a hiss of annoyance. Tail up in the air, she clambered over Blaise and onto her owner. Pansy smiled, rubbing Delilah behind the ears. “Hello, darling,” she cooed, “how’re you?”
“Do you talk to lover boy like that?” Millicent asked with a slight sneer. Pansy sniffed indignantly.
“Delilah’s my baby and I shall talk to her however I want.”
“Your baby?” asked Blaise. “I don’t want to know who the father is if that’s the offspring.”
Pansy scowled. “Shut up, Blaise.”
“Is that the best comeback you can think of?” he said, trying to stave off a yawn. The cards exploded again and Blaise briefly considered throwing them into the fireplace. Granted, the fire was not alight, but it was the thought that counted in his opinion.
She didn’t reply, instead continuing to stroke Delilah’s white fur.
“Are you coming to Hogsmeade with us tomorrow?” asked Daphne, who was chewing on a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.
“If I must,” said Blaise.
“Yes, you must,” said Millicent. “We need you to help disguise the fact that Pansy’s going to sneak off to be with lover boy.”
“Stop calling him that,” Pansy protested. Delilah hissed.
Millicent arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather that we referred to him by name for everyone to hear?” Pansy’s eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. “Exactly.”
“By ‘disguise’,” said Blaise, “I sincerely hope that you don’t intend for me to dress up.”
“Nope,” said Daphne with a grin.
“Good,” Blaise said with a sigh. He cast a sideways glance at Pansy. “Your shoes are too big for me anyway.”
Pansy’s face was a picture of fury. “Hey! My feet aren’t that big!”
“They’re bigger than mine,” said Millicent. “Mine are quite large.”
“You’re not helping.” Pansy glared at Millicent.
Once again, Blaise yawned. “I think I might go to bed,” he said, “before the catfight begins.” Delilah raised her head at this.
“Night night Blaisiekins,” Millicent said, also fighting a yawn. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Stepping into his dormitory, Blaise nearly tripped over a pair of Theodore’s shoes. He swore in Italian, kicking them to one side. One of them landed on top of Draco’s Quidditch robes. From what he could tell, Draco was attempting to persuade Professor Snape that he should be allowed back on the Quidditch team. Blaise had a suspicion that this was due to the upcoming match against Gryffindor.
He shrugged off his robes, putting them on a coat hanger before hanging his clothes in his wardrobe. As he put his shirt into the basket to be washed, he noticed a snag on the elbow. Blaise made a mental note to get it repaired as soon as possible. After all, as clearly stated in the Slytherin code of conduct, a stitch in time saves money on tailoring costs.
There was no one else around. He had seen Theodore leave the common room earlier, the books under his arm suggesting that he was bound for the library. Crabbe and Goyle had been playing Gobstones in the common room. As for Malfoy, well, he was not even worth a second thought.
Blaise’s favourite pyjamas were about three years old, far too short in the legs and the seam under the left arm had split more than once, but Blaise refused to throw them away. Sentimental value and all that. Besides, they were probably the most comfortable item of clothing he owned.
The lights in the dormitory faded as he peeled back the bed covers. Okay, so he was more than tired. He was exhausted and his eyes shut tight as soon as his head hit the pillow. If only he did not have to go shopping with the girls tomorrow.
Why did I agree to go? His thoughts felt blurry. I obviously have too much time on my hands.
*****
Daphne Greengrass peered at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. “Do you think I should tie my hair up?” she asked.
Sitting in an armchair, handbag on her lap, Pansy said, “No. You’ve already spent an hour doing your hair this morning, Daffy.”
“It looks fine,” Millicent assured her, not even looking up from the copy of Witch Weekly that she was reading. Daphne tugged again on a lock of blonde hair.
“But are you sure?” she asked, wringing her hands.
“Yes,” Pansy snapped. She looked at her watch. “Are you sure Zabini said he was coming?” she asked with a sigh. “We’re going to be late.”
“Late?” Millicent asked with a sly grin. “Planning on meeting someone?”
The Slytherin prefect scowled. “You know bloody well I am.”
“You’re even starting to sound like him,” Millicent said airily.
“I am not!” She let out a growl and cast a glance at the door that led to the boy’s dormitories. “I’m going to go and find Blaise,” she announced heading towards the door.
Daphne gasped. “But that’s the boys dormitory,” she said fearfully.
“What’s the matter with that?” Pansy asked. “It’s not as though there’s magic to keep me from going in there.” She sniffed. “Besides, I am a Slytherin prefect and I am concerned for the welfare of a fellow student.” Pansy pushed out her chest proudly. “It is my duty, nay, my right to go in there.”
Millicent rolled her eyes. “That’s enough theatrics for one day, Pansy.”
“But there might be boys in there,” Daphne said. “And they might be naked.” Her eyes were wide.
Pansy and Millicent exchanged a look. “I’m not entirely sure what the problem is, are you Millie?” Pansy asked. Millicent shook her head.
“Daphne brings up a very good point, though,” she said. “I might have to accompany you, Pansy. You know, to save you from all the evil naked men in there.”
“My saviour!” Pansy swooned as Millicent stood up and followed her in the corridor. She burst into giggles as the door shut behind them. “Bless,” she said with a smile. “She can be so innocent sometimes.”
“Only sometimes,” Millicent agreed, wrinkling her nose and thinking of several occasions on which Daphne had been anything but innocent. “It smells a bit, doesn’t it?” Pansy nodded, knocking on the door of the sixth year’s boys dormitory.
Waiting a few moments, Pansy knocked again.
“Blaise, get your lazy arse out here now!” Millicent called, hoping to rouse him.
The door next to Blaise’s dormitory which, oddly enough, read ‘Third Years’ opened and a small boy with red hair looked fearfully at the two older girls. “I don’t think there’s anyone in there. I went in earlier to see Mr Malfoy,” Millicent giggled at this, “and he was the only one in there. Him and that cat.”
“Which cat?” Pansy asked and the boy nodded at a black cat that was curled up on the other side of the corridor, evidently asleep. “Must be Nott’s,” she said to Millicent.
“Nott has a cat?” Millicent asked. Pansy shrugged.
“Must do.” She looked at it and said, “Yeah, now I come to think of it, it looks familiar. I think Delilah was chasing it the other day.”
Millicent shook her head in amusement. “Your cat is mad,” she remarked. “It’ll chase anything that moves.”
Shrugging, Pansy said, “It doesn’t even have to be moving.”
*****
Hermione checked her reflection in one of Filch’s shining suits of armour. Justin was late and she was starting to grow impatient. She adjusted her scarf, a Christmas present from her grandmother. It was pale pink and she thought that it made her cheeks look too red, but wore it anyway so that she could at least tell her grandmother honestly how warm it was.
Strolling into the Entrance Hall with Ernie McMillan at his side, Justin did not even seem to notice that it was now ten past.
“Morning, Hermione,” he said brightly. “Ernie’s going to walk down to the village with us. Is that alright?”
Hermione was actually rather glad about this. She did not want to be left alone with Justin for extended periods and she nodded in response.
As they walked down to Hogsmeade, Ernie and Justin talked about Quidditch and the mysterious girl that Ernie was supposed to be meeting in Hogsmeade. “He won’t tell me who she is,” Justin explained to Hermione. Hermione shoved her hands in her pockets - she had forgotten her gloves.
“That’s because I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Ernie pointed out.
“He’s entitled to his secrets,” Hermione said diplomatically and wondering where Crookshanks was.
Justin shrugged. “Anyone would think he was ashamed of her, that’s all.”
“I’m not ashamed of her,” Ernie said bitterly. “I just don’t want to tall you who she is.”
“Don’t start fighting,” Hermione said and realising that she had not seen Crookshanks in several days.
Justin’s arm was touching hers as they walked and the conversation between the two Hufflepuffs quickly returned to Quidditch. As they passed the Hogsmeade sign, his arm linked with hers and she inwardly winced but tried not to show any emotion apart from a small smile.
Just ignore him, she told herself. He’s just a Hufflepuff, not some Skrewt. He won’t hurt you.
Outside Honeydukes’, Hermione spotted the three Slytherin girls. Millicent and Daphne were staring in the window, Daphne’s mouth moving in excited speech.
“I could do with some chocolate,” Ernie announced suddenly.
Justin frowned. “It’ll be packed in there this time of day. Can’t you wait until later?”
“No.” Ernie was particularly firm about this and proceeded to drag Hermione and Justin over to the sweet shop. Ernie looked at the door. “It looks like there are a lot of people in there,” he said, far louder than Hermione was sure was necessary. “Why don’t you wait outside?”
“Fine,” Justin said with a roll of his eyes. He turned to Hermione. “You don’t mind, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
A couple of moments after Ernie went into Honeydukes’, Hermione saw Daphne and Millicent exchange a look and then Millicent went into the shop.
Interesting, Hermione thought. Is Millicent the mystery girl?
“Granger.” Pansy Parkinson looked like a snow queen in her white cloak and hat.
“Parkinson,” Hermione replied cordially.
“Can I have a word?” Her dark eyes flickered to Justin. “Privately.”
Hermione apologised to Justin and followed Pansy a little way off to the left, stepping around a couple who were caught up in the romantic mood of the village. “I like your scarf,” Pansy said.
“You brought me over here to compliment me?” Hermione asked.
Pansy shook her head. “Actually, I wanted to know if you’ve seen Blaise.”
“Why?”
“He’d already gone by the time we called for him this morning.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Hermione said truthfully. She really had not, not since the last Ancient Runes lesson, at any rate.
“Oh.” The Slytherin girl seemed slightly confused. “Thanks, Granger.”
“That’s alright. He’s probably just found a new supply of coffee and is busy drowning himself in it.”
“Either that or the prat’s gone for another swim in the lake and got frostbite,” Pansy said with a grin. “Thanks anyway.”
Hermione nodded. “No problem.”
*****
Seamus peered at Hermione’s parchment. “D’you understand any of this?” he asked in a whisper.
“Just about,” replied Hermione as she finished copying down her verb table.
Troll. What one would imagine to be a ‘dead easy’ language (as Seamus put it), was actually more complex than it first appeared.
“Can I borrow your notes later? Because this isn’t making any sense to me.”
“Sure,” she agreed, not really listening.
“Really?” Seamus grinned. “Hey, what are you planning to do next year?”
“Pardon?” she looked up at him, jogging her quill across her parchment. She frowned, reaching for her wand to clean it up.
“Next year,” he prodded. “Which languages are you going to concentrate on?” As part of their seventh year studies, the students in the Modern and Magical Languages class were required to choose a family of languages to focus their study on.
She gave a slight shrug, aware of Daphne watching her. The blonde Slytherin was chewing on her lip, blue eyes focused on Hermione rather than her work. “Haven’t decided yet. You?”
Seamus added a final flourish to his sketch of a troll. With a wry grin, he said, “I’m rather partial to the Celtic languages. I might do Germanic, though, like Greengrass.”
“We don’t have to decide until May, though,” said Hermione. Daphne seemed to be mouthing something to her. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement and she gave Daphne a look as though to say “What?”
Daphne reached for a piece of parchment and, a minute later, a paper swan flitted its way over to Hermione’s desk. Seamus looked at Hermione quizzically, but she ignored him.
I need to speak to you.
XXXDaphne.
Her handwriting was what Hermione would describe as ‘flowery’, and she turned her ‘O’s into smiley faces.
“What’s up with Greengrass?” asked Seamus in a low voice.
“Nothing,” said Hermione dismissively. “She’s just strange like that.”
After the lesson, Daphne yanked Hermione aside in the corridor. “Ow,” said Hermione rubbing her elbow. “There’s no need to be so rough.”
“Sorry,” Daphne apologised with wide eyes. “I just thought you should know.”
“Know what?” She was genuinely confused.
Daphne bit her lip. “Blaise is missing. No one’s seen him since Friday night.”
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