The Book

Hermione cursed under her breath as she attempted to wrestle a furiously struggling MONSTER BOOK OF MONSTERS back into her bag after Care of Magical Creatures. It would have worked much better if the reading list for Ancient Runes and ONE THOUSAND MAGICAL HERBS AND FUNGI weren't so bulky, and having stuffed in HOGWARTS: A HISTORY on top of them to keep her amused during lunch break didn't help much. With a final wrench she forced it in, rewarded with some rather alarming creaks from the seams, both from her effort and because it had started to chew on the insides of the bag. Ron had already compared the weight of her bag to Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback - fully-grown - when he had offered to carry it to class, so it was good that he had accompanied Harry to the Quidditch pitch for practice and wasn't around to see her now.

Or maybe not, she mused when she turned to leave the classroom and found herself face to unpleasant face with one Draco Malfoy, arrayed in triangular attack formation with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Ferret-face was observing her with an accusatory air that obviously aimed at throwing her into paroxysms of guilt just for making him address her.

"What?" she snapped, irritated and slightly nervous. A covert glance confirmed that none of her classmates were left in the room. This had real potential for turning bad...

"Easy, Granger," he drawled. "Try to be more polite to your betters."

"I would, if there were any around," she shot back. "I was about to go to lunch. Having to look at you beforehand doesn't improve my appetite."

"Very witty. You could give the Weasel a run for his non-existent money. Anyway, if I wanted to hear pathetic insults I'd go see Potter. You and me have to talk."

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed and closed her mouth audibly. He smirked.

"Malfoy, I cannot really place the symptoms, but maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey. Whatever you're suffering from could be dangerous. What could you possibly want from me?"

"I want to call you out for a wizards' duel. Tomorrow at midnight, to the death, no seconds."

Hermione reeled back in shock.

"What?"

"Honestly, Granger, the Sorting Hat should rephrase his ditty to 'Gryffindor, where dwell the dumb at heart'. No, I won't duel you, it would amount to cruelty to beavers. I want your copy of HOGWARTS, A HISTORY."

"HOG... what in the world... how come you even know it exists? And for your information, I just renewed my loan, and I need it for a project. Get out another copy if you're that desperate."

He furrowed his brow and glared at her.

"Look, Mud- Granger, there are only three copies. One has been on loan to Binns ever since before he died, the second's at Filch's and I'm not going to talk to that Squib, and you've been hogging the remaining copy for the last three years. You should know it by heart, and dragging it everywhere makes you look like the hunchback of Notre Dame, not like an intellectual. So hand it over."

"You..." Hermione sputtered angrily, aware that she sounded - and probably looked, colour-wise - too much like Ron for her liking. But this blatant mixture of insults and presumption made her furious. She put her chin up and shook her head determinedly.

"I certainly won't. You can have it after I have returned it. And now please remove your rodenty self and the lapdogs from the exit."

Crabbe narrowed his eyes and took a lumbering step forward.

"Want me to convince her?" he growled at the head goon.

Malfoy shook his head with a small, cold smile.

"Of course not," he replied ominously. "There are far more... subtle ways of persuasion." He looked directly at Hermione. "I asked you politely, Mudblood, better remember that."

He turned on the spot and swept out of the classroom, the junior trolls in hot pursuit.

"I don't believe this," Hermione muttered, both outraged and unsettled by the encounter. "I'll better tell Harry and Ron at lunch, just in case the ferret is planning something..."

~ ~ ~

Lunch, however, passed without either Harry or Ron putting in an appearance. Since the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team was absent, they probably spent an additional training session on the pitch. Lee Jordan sneaking out of the hall with a plateful of sandwiches confirmed her suspicion. Hermione pulled HOGWARTS, A HISTORY out of her bag, slapped down the MONSTER BOOK OF MONSTERS which was still munching on the cloth, and put it next to her pitcher with grapefruit juice.

"See, you're still mine, the bad man didn't get you." She patted the cover affectionately.

"Well, either you've transfigured Crookshanks or you're starting to go batty from all that work you do, Hermione."

Lavender Brown was sitting across the table and stared at her as if she had grown a second head. Hermione blushed faintly and threw a meaningful look towards the crowded and rowdy Slytherin table.

"I'll tell you tonight," she mouthed and Lavender turned her attention back to the copy of YOUNG WITCHES MAGAZINE she was studying with Parvati.

~ ~ ~

When Hermione made her way down to the dungeons for Potions after lunch, she had almost forgotten the weird encounter.

The Slytherins and most of her house mates were already there, strictly self-segregated into snakes in front and lions at the back. Her eyes swept over Malfoy suspiciously as she entered. He caught her looking and gave her a nasty smirk. With a queasy feeling in her stomach she took her usual seat behind Lavender and Parvati, who were animatedly discussing the effect of diluted Belladonna for an eye-brightening potion. Just seconds before Snape entered Harry and Ron raced in, out of breath and Harry with wet hair plastered all over his forehead. They slumped down beside her, gasping for breath. Snape glared at them.

"Now that Gryffindor's would-be Quidditch star has decided to grace us with his illustrious presence, we can start on today's Preservation Potion..."

Harry sighed.

They set up their cauldrons as usual, but since she had paired with Neville Longbottom - to protect Gryffindor students as much as Gryffindor house points - there was no opportunity for filling in her friends under Snape's vengeful eyes.

It was at the end of the lesson, when the fluid simmering in her cauldron had attained its perfect pale yellow colour and was happily emitting bright wafts of smoke, that Snape prowled over to them. He ladled a portion of the potion into a glass and dipped a chicken leg into it. It came out covered with an even protective film. Snape glared at their cauldron disappointedly.

"Adequate, though not Mr. Longbottom's merit I think," he spat. He gave Hermione a very nasty look. "Although, Miss Granger, I hear that you are resorting to new means of securing your academic standing."

Hermione gaped at him in confusion.

"Professor?"

"Mr. Malfoy tells me that you refuse to give him access to books he needs for his class work, although he asked you politely."

"But Professor, I just got it out of the library and-"

"- and you have had it for years? I will have to talk to Madam Pince about her borrowing policies. As it stands, you will hand the book in question to Mr. Malfoy immediately, with an apology for your uncooperative behaviour."

Hermione felt her chest constrict and realised with alarm how close she was to tears. This is so *unfair*! The little maggot runs to the bigger maggot, and the... *git* blames me without bothering with the facts...

Snape walked back to the front of the classroom and added, over his shoulder, "And twenty points from Gryffindor for provoking inter-house tension and sabotaging a student's academic efforts. Class dismissed."

The Slytherin part of the room clapped and sniggered, while most Gryffindors were speechless with anger. Even Neville was staring at Snape in open outrage and had forgotten to quiver. Harry and Ron had to hold Hermione down with both hands and combined efforts, quite a reversal of how this very scene usually played.

"Don't let him get to you, he's not worth it," Harry tried soothingly, although he was shaking with anger himself.

"I hate him, both of them!" Hermione sobbed through her hands. "And I've lost us points just because I wanted to stand up to the goon squad."

"Don't worry, we'll mop the pitch with them in the next match in return," Ron promised.

Hermione took a couple of deep breaths and felt her anger receding - well, at least beyond the immediate surface.

"You can let me up now, I won't curse him." They did, though they looked ready to grab her again should she change her mind.

Hermione pulled out HOGWARTS, A HISTORY and stomped over to the desk behind which Malfoy was still lounging, with crossed arms and an expectant, not to mention gleeful, expression on his face. She slammed the book on the table in front of him and turned to leave.

"Granger?"

She whirled around and shot him a look dark enough to petrify. Sadly, it didn't work. Shouldn't have promised not to curse him, she thought wildly.

"What?"

He smiled mildly and observed his fingernails.

"I'm still waiting for your apology for trying to sabotage my academic efforts."

It was such an incredible display of unmitigated arrogance that to her deep embarrassment it almost made her laugh.

"Malfoy, you're an unbelievable, nasty, twisted son of a..." She stopped short, both because Ron gave a strangled yelp and - mainly - because Snape was throwing them dark looks and pricked up his too-large ears, "... an equally twisted wizard," she finished, back-pedalling slightly.

"Why, thank you, Granger," Malfoy drawled and made HOGWARTS, A HISTORY disappear in his black leather Gladrags bag. "But you'll have to go easy on the compliments, otherwise I'll start to think you fancy me and that would send me reeling into St. Mungo's."

It took all of Harry's seeker reflexes and speed to grab both Ron and Hermione from doing the Slytherin bodily damage in front of Snape's eyes as Malfoy sauntered out of the classroom, exceedingly pleased with himself.

~ ~ ~

Neither Malfoy nor Snape bothered Hermione for the rest of the week, which somewhat reduced her temper from 'simmering' to 'still slightly warm'. On the following Monday, however, after her afternoon session of Ancient Runes, she found herself being pulled back from leaving the classroom by a very irate-looking Malfoy, this time thankfully in solo attack position. Ancient Runes was a small enough class to contain students from all houses, Malfoy sadly being one of them.

She pulled her arm out of his grip and glared at him.

"What now? If you want to pull the same stunt with QUIDDITCH THROUGH THE AGES, Harry has it and I doubt that Madam Hooch will be as responsive to your schemes as Snape."

"Granger, were you aware of the innocent little fact that not once, in over a thousand pages, HOGWARTS, A HISTORY mentions house-elves?"

"What?" she sputtered. "Of course I knew that. In fact, I have complained about that disgraceful omission frequently in the Gryffindor common room, and-"

"Please, spare me the SPIT lecture, Granger."

"It's SPEW - Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!" Hermione glared. "Anyway, why would you want to research house-elves? Your disgusting family is at the very forefront of elf enslavers!"

"Look, Granger, you're nasty enough to talk to as it is, but your one-Mudblood crusading spirit is really vile. And for your information, I'm working on a History of Magic essay on the necessity for the strict control of house-elves, and since Hogwarts is said to own the largest number in Britain, I thought it would make a good case study."

"Over a hundred, yes," Hermione agreed, then caught herself. "Not that I'm sorry you couldn't find material for your evil little theory in HOGWARTS, A HISTORY. Frankly, I'm not surprised that someone with your virulent personality would argue something like that. Just look at how your family mistreated poor Dobby. But for somebody who supports You-Know-Who enslaving Wizards and Muggles, believing in the enslavement of house-elves probably comes natural."

"Whereas your ridiculous campaign is nothing but cultural imperialism, trying to force your Muggle standards on the Wizarding World, not to mention that it undermines the very core of house-elf identity. Another reason why Muggles should stay out of the magical community." He looked very smug after that.

"I'm not committing cultural imperialism," Hermione hissed hotly. "I just believe we shouldn't treat other beings in a way we would hate to be treated - but I see that's too alien a concept for a Slytherin."

She took a deep breath and deliberated for a moment. Insults aside, this was actually the first serious conversation she'd ever had with the Darth Vader of Slytherin House. She giggled at the thought and continued in her best lecturing voice.

"But you can look into ELFKIND: AN INTRODUCTION TO A DIVERSE SPECIES for some background reading, and at INVISIBLE AND INDISPENSABLE: HOUSE-ELVES IN THE WIZARDING WORLD by Thaddeus Heinzelman and HOUSE-ELF PSYCHOLOGY: A BEGINNERS GUIDE FOR THE UPWARDLY MOBILE WIZARD - that's basically for snobs, so you'll feel right at home with it."

"And don't think I haven't noticed that you didn't mention Magnus Dread's THE QUIET MENACE: HOUSE-ELVES, THE THREAT IN OUR MIDST," he shot back.

"All right, ferret, I should let you take a fall with that, but in the spirit of inter-house cooperation, when I talked to Professor Binns about literature concerning house-elves early last year, he mentioned it wasn't accepted as a scientific publication. Dread had a grudge against house-elves ever since his wife's lover set his elves on him, who transfigured him into a pair of goat's horns to the amusement of a large crowd of dinner guests. He never seems to have gotten over it. I'd skip THE QUIET MENACE if I were you - which I'm not, thanks be to Merlin."

If it weren't biologically impossible she'd have thought he was smiling.

"Wow Granger, I'm impressed. You got details like that out of Binns, who last week described the passionate love affair between Minister Barberus Bragge's wife Catriona McKinnon and Murdoch the Lewd as her 're-conferral of affections'? Maybe there's a little sordid reason after all why Potter, Krum and the Weasel are all drooling over you."

Hermione blushed scarlet and slapped herself mentally. Well girl, either curse him to perdition or play it cool. Hexes were very, very tempting, but the image in her mind's eye of Snape swooping down on her like a greasy-winged vampire bat was an effective deterrent. Somewhat wistfully she let go of her wand and graced the bastard with a bright smile.

"Gryffindor charm, Malfoy, nothing you'd be able to duplicate," she explained loftily. In fact, she'd gotten the details out of a FIERY WITCHES - PASSIONATE WIZARDS romance novel she'd picked up in Flourish & Blotts, not something she'd share with ferret boy - or anybody else. Parvati and Lavender were one heck of a bad influence.

For the very first time he seemed at a loss for words, nasty or otherwise. Hermione threw him an evil grin and opened the door to leave the classroom.

The door hit Ron, who'd stuck his head into the room at the same time, squarely in the forehead.

"Herm, it's dinner time already, are you still in here - ouch!" He reeled back and rubbed his aching forehead. Harry dug in his heels in time to stop himself from running into the red-head.

Ron glanced over her shoulder and immediately forgot his damaged head.

"Malfoy? Hermione, if the prat tried to jinx or insult you, I'll kill him! What were you doing?" Outrage, surprise and concern flitted over his face in quick succession.

Hermione smiled at him and Harry, more cheerful than she'd felt in a week.

"Don't worry guys, I was just doing my bit for inter-house cooperation and helped speeding along ferret-boy's academic career."

She took both their arms and steered them out towards the Great Hall and dinner, leaving a bewildered Draco Malfoy behind her with a triumphant smile on her face and a rare spring in her step.

~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~

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