The Plays The Thing

The Play's the Thing

by Shakespearechick

***

CHAPTER IX

***

Hermione's stomach performed another flip.

"Arithmancy partner projects..." she repeated queasily. Malfoy nodded.

"Yes. Apparently - we're partners."

Hermione felt the blood rush to her ears and she felt light-headed.

"What? Why? Were we paired randomly?"

Malfoy laughed. "Of course not! That would be too much of a coincidence, don't you think? And so ironic..."

"Then how?" Hermione questioned weakly, already imagining the new rift this was going to cause between her and Ron. And possibly Harry. Again.

Perfect.

"Professor Vector has been evaluating us all and our interests and abilities. Apparently you and I... um... have been interested in the same areas of discussion, asking similar questions outside of class..."

"Oh... swell..." Hermione mumbled, burying her face in her arms. Then she paused.

Her stomach was feeling queasy over the new problems this posed for her wish for reconciliation with Ron, but...

Why was her heart beating so rapidly? And her ears still felt hot. And... surely her cheeks were not flushed.

Oh, but they were.

And... somewhere, in the back of her mind, she felt part of herself celebrating. She was going to get to spend more time with Malfoy. They could rehearse their scenes together and also work on this new project. Not to mention, Malfoy was a very good Arithmancy student - their project would be an assured success. She could impress professor Vector. She'd get a good grade.

And, she'd get more time with Malfoy.

But, she'd already mentioned that and now Malfoy was beginning to look at her curiously. What did he think she was thinking? Surely he didn't suspect - didn't know. Of course, the longer she remained like this, looking at him but obviously thinking about several other things...

This was not a soliloquy. She needed to take a deep breath.

"I'm flattered by your reaction to the news," Malfoy said drolly, breaking the awkward silence. As Hermione watched him she wondered how he felt about them suddenly being paired together for everything. He didn't seem to mind... at least not as much as one would've rationally expected from Draco Malfoy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that," Hermione responded as she brushed her hair back behind her ear nervously.

Malfoy looked slightly surprised. "Well now, did the Great Hermione Granger just apologize to me?"

Hermione smiled nervously. "I guess I did..." She couldn't help but notice that the apology had come as naturally as it usually did when she was speaking to Harry, Ron or any of her other house mates. But she had never been so concerned about how she came across to Malfoy before.

"Perhaps I should... qualify all this," she said quickly. "I wasn't pleased to learn that there was going to be another reason for me to fight stupidly with my best friends, but that isn't your fault." She paused and thought for a moment. "Actually, it is, because you made them hate you and you hate them so they hate me not quite hating you... but we covered this already, right, and I think there was a truce or something so my point is..."

"Your point is...?" Malfoy repeated bemusedly.

"Uh," Hermione stammered, collecting her thoughts. Why did Malfoy suddenly make her feel all flustered? "Basically, I'm happy I'm working with you on this project. You're a good student; plus, we'll be able to work on it and the play more easily. You know, scheduling conflicts and such aside..."

She decided to stop babbling until her Sensible and Collected Self decided to make an appearance. Malfoy didn't seem to notice the change in her behavior, or at least he didn't outwardly acknowledge it. 

But, then again, he was probably only used to her reacting to him with various stages of dislike, anger and indignance.

Malfoy shrugged. "If you say so."

"Okay then," Hermione agreed needlessly. She peered down at her script. "Should we start with our first scene together?"

Malfoy shrugged, flipped his script to the scene and yawned. "I think we did quite well the first time; I can't think what could be improved."

Ah, there's the arrogant and stubborn Malfoy. It's nice to see that one of us has returned to our Normal Personality.

"Malfoy, we've read the scene once."

"I know, and it flowed quite naturally. I mean, we want this to appear off the cuff and natural, correct? Not overly-rehearsed."

All Hermione could do was stare at him. " ‘Overly rehearsed?' You have seen plays right? Perhaps the odd Muggle movie or two?"

"Maybe."

"And did their lines seem ‘overly rehearsed'?"

Malfoy paused as though he were giving it serious thought. "Possibly."

Hermione sighed. "Why are you suddenly being so difficult?"

Malfoy smirked. "It's what I do best."

"What you do best is annoy and confuse me to death," Hermione griped. "If we're not going to practice our lines then what are we going to do?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Now, there's an interesting question." He drummed his fingers on the table idly.

Hermione's mind tried not to go down the salacious alley Malfoy was steering her towards and instead opted for clearing her throat and glancing at her lines innocently. "We need to practice Malfoy, even if it's just to get our cues down."

"Okay, fine," he sighed dramatically. "But... not here."

Hermione glanced around the Hall expectantly. "Then where? And why?"

Malfoy grinned and rose out of his seat. "Follow me."

***

She quickly realized he was leading towards the Slytherin common room.

"Malfoy-"

"Don't worry - we're not practicing here," Malfoy cut in quickly. Something in his tone told her that he couldn't imagine bringing a Gryffindor into the Slytherin common room. Ever.

"Just wait here for a minute," he continued briskly, whispering the password low enough that she couldn't hear. She was about to protest but he had already walked through the bare, damp wall and it swung closed.

She leaned against the opposite wall resignedly and wondered what on earth Malfoy was fetching from his room. Where did he plan to take her to practice their lines? Besides, what difference could it possibly make?

Getting bored, she began to flip through her lines again. It was becoming a compulsive habit...

Suddenly she heard some voices coming down the hallway and glanced up to see Graham Pritchard and Malcolm Baddock talking together, their heads close and their voices low.

"What does it matter to us?... well, yes..."

"It could work; it's in the play..."

"I thought that was As You Like It-"

"I told you - it's the same-" Malcolm looked up and caught sight of Hermione leaning across from the common room entrance. She felt a little self-conscious, and seeing a suspicious sneer cross his face she prepared to go on the defense.

Instead the wall swung open and Malfoy exited, carrying a broomstick in each hand. Malcolm froze with his mouth open as he saw Malfoy and Hermione turned to look at Malfoy's face. His reaction was almost immediate as he lifted his chin slightly in a nod to his house mates. Malcolm and Graham hastily nodded back and entered the common room.

Hermione watched them with interest until her brain reminded her of what Malfoy had walked out with. 

Broomsticks. Two of them.

"Malfoy..." she started, her mouth feeling dry. He didn't answer but instead motioned her to follow him. He set off down the hallway and led her out of the castle. She followed reluctantly as they made their way to the deserted Quidditch pitch.

Finally he paused on the grass and turned around to face her. The broomsticks appeared to guard him like spears and he was grinning.

"What are you doing with those?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the rising anxiety out of her voice.

"I brought along my Nimbus and my Firebolt to help us rehearse."

"Why do we need broomsticks to rehearse?" Hermione asked. "Are we going to transfigure them into props?"

Malfoy looked horrified at the thought of anyone meddling with his precious broomsticks and Hermione had a sudden flashback to Harry's Firebolt... and her part in it systematically being taken apart...

 

Of course, Harry and Ron had forgiven her eventually, but...

She didn't want to think about that right now.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that," Malfoy announced proffering the Nimbus to her. She stepped forward but didn't take it. "Come on," he said impatiently. "You really need to learn how to fly."

"We really need to practice our lines," she retorted stubbornly.

"We can, on the brooms."

"How is that helpful?" she scoffed.

He smirked. "If you can remember your lines while zigzagging through the air you're sure to remember them standing still on a stage. They become habit and flow naturally."

Hermione shook her head. "We don't have to fly to do that."

"No, but you need to learn how to fly so, we can kill two Diricawls with one stone."

Hermione peered at him skeptically. "Diricawls?"

He looked surprise. "I thought you knew everything. A Diricawl is a plump-bodied, fluffy-feathered, flightless bird. It's good at escaping danger."

"Oh," Hermione still felt blank. Then something clicked in her head. "Oh! Right, a dodo."

Malfoy peered at her oddly. "Yes, Muggles called it a dodo. Anyway..."

"Anyway, I'm like a Diricawl. I loathe flying."

Malfoy laughed. "They couldn't fly; it's not the same as not wanting to. Besides, you didn't seem to mind too much on the way back from Hogsmeade."

Hermione swallowed thickly, wondering if he was recalling how she temporarily got over her fear or how she had her arms wrapped around his waist. But, I mean, that didn't mean anything and he wouldn't get that impression and...

"It was the pumpkin ale," she mumbled.

He shook his head and smiled knowingly. "No it wasn't."

"Yes it was," she repeated sourly. "I really hate flying."

"But you got over it."

Only because you were on the broom too.

"On the way back from Hogsmeade you were flying, not me. I can't deal with my fear and fly a broom. And I don't want too!" Malfoy didn't look swayed. "Come on," she said, trying to change tactics. "If you teach me how to fly then how can all the Slytherins mock me for not being able too? You know the taunts, ‘Look at Potter's half-blood girlfriend; she can't even fly!'"

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "You're Potter's girlfriend?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "No. Look, I'm not going to get on the broomstick."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"You're so childish, you know that Malfoy?"

"Yes, I do. And spoiled. Ooh! And persuasive."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Why don't you get on the broom?"

Hermione stopped and bit her lip, trying not to lose her temper. This was all so ridiculous!

"Malfoy-"

"Just try it."

"This is ridiculous."

Malfoy looked indignant. "And you say you're a ‘real' witch."

Hermione suppressed the urge to slap him. She was noticing how often she had this urge when he was around.

Refusing to look him in the eye she grabbed the Nimbus. Malfoy set his Firebolt on end and walked over to her, holding the Nimbus out horizontally where it began to hover. She let go of it, but Malfoy kept on hand on it.

"Go ahead and mount it."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Years of nagging from both Harry and Ron had never got her this far. Malfoy had done it twice.

"Okay, now grip it here." He took her hands and moved them in position in front of her. "This balances you and makes it easy to steer."

"Thanks, because I would never have figured that out," she muttered sourly.

"Yes, I noticed that First Year during flying lessons," Malfoy retorted. He ignored her glare and continued on with his instructions. "You'll get a feel of how to manoeuvre it fairly quickly. Then, as you get more comfortable you can rise higher and add some fancy tricks."

"I doubt I'll become comfortable with it. Actually, I hate it."

Malfoy shrugged and walked over to mount his own broom. He glided over to her and put his right hand on her broom. Slowly he began to levitate, one hand still on her broom and the other on his.

As she felt her feet rise from the safety of the ground she felt her stomach drop. She squeezed her eyes shut, tightened her grip on the broom and let Malfoy steer her upwards.

No... no... no...

She was feeling dizzy and disoriented. Perhaps opening her eyes would help orient her.

Her eyes opened and she stifled a scream.

Malfoy looked over at her as her mouth opened and she sucked in some air.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Uh..." was all she managed.

Malfoy took this opportunity to let go of her broom.

"Malfoy, no!" she gasped out.

"Oh, good, you can still talk," he remarked casually.

There was that urge again.

"I'm feeling dizzy," she said, ignoring him.

"Just go with it," he replied. "And don't think about the fact you're hundreds of meters above the ground."

Hermione's jaw dropped again and she automatically glanced down and almost passed out.

 

"Whoa!" Malfoy said, quickly catching her shoulder. "Breathe. And perhaps you shouldn't look down."

Hermione glared at him and righted herself on the broom.

"Don't think about it. Don't look down," she muttered irritably. How nice of Malfoy to be so very helpful. She was going to kill him when they got back on solid ground.

" ‘If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.' "

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

" ‘If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.' " Malfoy repeated innocuously.

Hermione felt recognition flood her brain.

" ‘I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick: nobody marks you,' " she said automatically and saw Malfoy smile triumphantly.

 " ‘What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?' "

" ‘Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you came in her presence.' "

Hermione felt pleased that the lines flew off her tongue effortlessly. She was beginning to forget the whole flying thing. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all - she had survived it twice.

" ‘Then is courtesy a turncoat,' " Malfoy retorted with superior amusement. " ‘But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for truly, I love none.' "

At that line Malfoy suddenly dropped from Hermione's view, beginning a dive towards the ground.

How dare he try to escape, she thought and pointed her broom after him, determined to follow. It was something automatic and she did not stop to think.

" ‘A dear happiness to women,' " she hollered after him. " ‘They would have else been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humor for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.' "

Malfoy glanced back at her, no doubt surprised that she had followed his lead. He grinned mischievously, broke his dive, and began to zoom upwards.

" ‘God keep your ladyship in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall ‘scape a predestinate scratched face.' " Malfoy smirked as he said his lines while zooming past her.

Gritting her teeth she pulled the Nimbus upwards and gave chase.

" ‘Scratching could not make it worse, an ‘twere such a face as yours were.' "

" ‘Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.' "

Malfoy had come to a stop and she pulled up next to him feeling a combination of adrenaline-induced exhilaration and pure terror over what she had just done. She suddenly recalled the one and only one time she had ridden a Muggle roller coaster.

" ‘A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours,' " she told him.

" ‘I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's; I have done,' " Malfoy recited.

" ‘You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old,' " Hermione finished.

And then she looked around, noticing they were higher up then before.

"Oh God!"

Malfoy smirked at her exclamation and admired their surroundings. "That was a pretty nice dive."

"I can't believe I..." Hermione paused, still out of breath.

"Also, notice, we ran through the scene. Mission accomplished."

Hermione glanced over at him and attempted a stern expression. "We're not going flying each time we meet to rehearse our lines."

Malfoy's expression turned wistful. "A shame."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "If all you wanted to do was fly, why did you audition for the play? You should have stuck to Quidditch."

"I told you already," he explained. "I like to keep people on their toes. Do the unexpected."

"Uh-huh," Hermione replied disbelievingly.

Malfoy looked wounded. "You don't believe me?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well..."

"Look at you," he said. "A few days ago nobody would believe you'd get on a broom, let alone follow me in a dive."

"I was motivated by Shakespearean scholarship," Hermione said lamely.

"Granger on a broom? Malfoy in a play?" he continued. "Imagine all the whispered questions and suspicions."

"Malfoy coaching Granger on a broom: imagine all the whispered gossip," Hermione replied drolly.

Malfoy paused, as if to consider this. A gust of wind blew through his hair and he pushed it back impatiently. Hermione did the same but froze with her hand midair. Quickly she set it back down on the broom, gripping it tightly as another gust blew by. She had almost forgotten they were still hovering high above in the air and her nervousness was still very real.

"Gossip," Malfoy gave a dismissive wave, but his voice faltered and he didn't finish his thought.

"I'm getting dizzy again," Hermione said suddenly, feeling her stomach twist into knots as the adrenaline rush dissipated. It was the feeling that had made her swear off flying from the start.

"Fine, we can land," Malfoy replied.

"No, really, I feel nauseated," Hermione said. She closed her eyes but it didn't help. It was suddenly very hot. How high could a broom go anyway?

"Can you fly down?" Malfoy asked, a hint of concern in his voice now.

"Hold on, give me a moment," she said. It seemed that, despite her efforts with Malfoy, she still hadn't conquered her inherent fear of flying. Though, on the plus side, it had taken longer to manifest this time round. And the pumpkin ale had kept it at bay for the whole time on the way back from Hogsmeade...

Malfoy seemed to be having similar thoughts.

"Still not use to it, eh? Perhaps you should always drink some pumpkin ale before flying."

Hermione managed to open her eyes and level him with a stare. "Oh, yes, I've heard that drinking really helps with nausea. Not to mention how it enhances one's coordination when flying." 

"Ah, biting sarcasm. You must be feeling better."

Hermione rocked a little on the broom. "A little bit."

Malfoy nodded and placed his hands on her broom again. "Slowly," he said and they began to descend.

After a few disjointed moments Hermione felt her feet touch the ground. She hopped off the broom quite thankfully.

"I can't believe you made me do that," she told Malfoy who was watching her carefully. "No more weird rehearsal locations."

Malfoy smirked. "You could always do some Arithmancy problems to see what will happen next time."

Hermione stumbled and grabbed Malfoy's shoulder to steady herself. He looked at her and then at her hand in surprise. However, instead of his usual reaction to contact he just grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

"Was that a joke?" Hermione asked dryly acting as though Malfoy held her upright every day.

"Not really. We need to come up with a project for Arithmancy."

She took a deep breath and stepped back from Malfoy feeling better. He began walking back towards the castle and Hermione followed slowly until he stopped by the bushes.

"Aren't you the expert with fifteen years of experience with magic, blah blah blah," she grumbled.

Malfoy peered down at her. "Tut tut, caustic sarcasm does not become you."

"It seems to be your preferred method of communication," she quipped. Malfoy smiled indulgently.

"It takes lots of practice and you still need some."

"Well, add that to the list," Hermione retorted.

"So charming, how can Potter and Weasley resist?"

"Practice."

Hermione straightened up and rubbed her hands over her face. Malfoy had her flushed and giggling one moment and homicidal the next. Why? Furthermore, why was she still standing here?

 

"Practice?" Malfoy asked.

"Practice!!" Hermione suddenly said remembering her conversation with Ginny. "Oh God, Gryffindor Quidditch practice. They'll be here any minute!!!"

"And?" Malfoy asked unruffled, glancing around. "Oh - look." He pointed around the bushes towards the door where red and gold Quidditch robes were now becoming visible.

Feeling panic and the adrenaline return, Hermione grabbed Malfoy and pulled him down lower behind the bushes. She let her broom drop and kept Malfoy pressed to the side of the castle by her arm until the Gryffindors walked past and arrived on the pitch.

Giving a sigh of relief she let go of Malfoy and sank down onto the ground.

"What was that all about?" Malfoy asked rather loudly.

"Hold on!" Hermione whispered, double checking that the team was out of ear shot.

Malfoy pouted silently for a few seconds before he began talking again.

"It's rather undignified for a Malfoy to be dragged into the bushes," he commented as he brushed off his robes in annoyance. "Normally we do the dragging."

Hermione sheepishly rose to her feet and straightened out her own robes.

"I didn't want them to see us."

 

"Thanks for clearing that up for me, I didn't understand," Malfoy muttered sarcastically. "You're rather bossy, you know that?"

"So are you!"

"Don't get so defensive," Malfoy grinned. "I didn't say it was always a bad thing." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Speaking of Arithmancy, I wonder what our numbers predict for all of our projects together."

"Your character and heart numbers are 5 and your social number is 9. Mine are 4, 4, and 9."

 Malfoy arched an eyebrow in her direction.

Hermione realized with a start how quickly she had recited those numbers.

"I mean... if my math is..."

"You've already looked into this, then," Malfoy said unnecessarily. Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

"Well, I was bored one day and I did several people's numbers..."

Malfoy didn't seem to be listening. "Fours and fives are almost opposites aren't they? Stability and firmness versus instability and imbalance."

"Fives are supposedly drawn to many things but rarely commit, never stay in one place long and are adventurous, energetic and take risks," Hermione elaborated.

"Fours are practicable, reliable, enjoy hard work and are good at organization. They're predictable," Malfoy said with a hint of good-natured accusation in his voice.

"Fives are known to be conceited, irresponsible, quick-tempered and impatient," Hermione shot back almost gleefully.

"Hello, Beatrice!" Malfoy joked causing Hermione to smile.

"Of course, we both have 9 as our social number," Hermione mused.

"I find it hard to believe we move in the same social circles."

"It's the complete number."

Malfoy shrugged.

"Plus, it is a bit of a combination between four and five. Strongly determined and hard-working, but also conceited and arrogant if things don't go their way." She looked pointedly at Malfoy who tried to whistle innocently.

"Whatever are you talking about? Me, arrogant?"

Hermione looked at him skeptically and shook her head. Malfoy stopped his whistling attempts and watched her carefully.

"You say you figured out other people's numbers when you were bored?" he questioned.

"Yes," she said, trying not to squirm.

"Well, then before you did mine you must've done... say, Weasley's?"

"1, 9, 1," she repeated automatically, thankful that she had mocked him about it so it had stuck in her mind.

"And Potter?" He grinned at her.

Crap.

"I really don't remember all of them..."

Malfoy's grin widened.

"So, you remember mine better than a best friend?"

Hermione tried to appear casual. "I did the numbers for Ron and Harry when I first started Arithmancy. I remember Ron's because we all had a laugh over it. And yours..."

"And mine...?"

Okay, so maybe honesty was best here.

"I did yours the day you slipped me the Wilde book."

"Oh, I see," Malfoy said but a look of bemusement stayed in his eyes. "Let's see," he said squinting, "if we do some quick math... that would be... 65. So 6 and 5, 11... 2. And - well - that's easy, 3. And finally... 8." He looked at her triumphantly. "2, 3, and 8 are Potter's lucky numbers."

Hermione goggled at him. "I must admit I'm impressed by your math skills."

"Thank you," he said giving a half bow. 

"Two..." she mused, always up to the challenge of an Arithmancy number reading. "Twos represent interaction, two-way communication, cooperation and balance."

"They're generally imaginative, creative, and sweet natured," Malfoy added, wrinkling his nose up at the last thought.

"Also peace, harmony, commitment, loyalty, and fairness are characteristic," Hermione added.

"Granted," Malfoy said. "But two also introduces the idea of conflict, opposing forces, and the contrasting sides of things: night and day, good and evil. Twos can be withdrawn, moody, self-conscious, and indecisive."

Conflict, Hermione though. Opposing forces, good and evil. She recalled Harry panicking over whether he could have been the Heir of Slytherin, when he had noticed similarities between himself and Tom Riddle, and when he later admitted that the sorting hat had tried to put him in Slytherin...

Harry was often torn and conflicted.

"Yeah, that sounds about right..." she said, simply to say something.

"And his heart number, the three?" Malfoy continued. "The original complete number... past-present-future... energetic, humor, and social ease..."

"Threes are often lucky, easygoing, rich, and highly successful..." Hermione whispered, reciting the meanings as though it was all second nature.

Malfoy looked thoughtful. "Lucky? Potter? I think that applies. And he's stupidly easygoing... I hear he's richer than one would guess by his appearance and he has been rather... successful."

Hermione nodded. She was not entirely convinced by the magic of Arithmancy or how true it all was, but it was definitely more interesting than Divination.

"And eight indicates the possibility of great success," Malfoy said, almost enviously. "Practical, ambitious and hardworking - but they also can be jealous, greedy, domineering and power hungry."

Power hungry.

Hermione shuddered as Malfoy went on.

"Eight is said to be the most unpredictable number and can indicate the pinnacle of success or the depths of failure; the potential to go either way is present from the beginning."

Concentrating on school, the play and, more recently, Malfoy, Hermione had managed to put aside her worry over Harry. But with this reminder of his numbers, it all came flooding back with a vengeance.

Unpredictable. The pinnacle of success or the depths of failure. Isn't that what fate had in store for Harry from the moment he had encountered Lord Voldemort as a baby? Isn't that why the wizarding world loved him one moment and then feared him the next? They called him their savor, but the students had been willing to believe he was the Heir.

And then there was the whole Triwizard Tournament horror.

Hermione suddenly became aware of Malfoy watching her carefully. She wondered if he suspected what she was thinking about.

He cleared his throat softly, almost if he was afraid of startling her. "Anyway," he said, taking on a lighter tone. "As amusing as this review of basic Arithmancy has been, I think I'll be heading back now."

Hermione nodded quickly as she tried to clear the unnerving thoughts that were floating about in her mind. "Okay, I think I'll check in with the Quidditch practice."

Malfoy glanced over at the Gryffindors who were just now taking to the air. He nodded slowly and then began to walk away.

"See you in class," he remarked as he left.

Hermione stood there, watching him and thinking about how weird this whole encounter had been.

Meeting in the hall... the whole flying thing... and just now...

But she didn't want to dwell on it too much and, with a final brush to her robes, stepped out from the bushes. She was grateful that no one else was around. She could just imagine the rumors that would start if someone saw Malfoy and her emerging from behind bushes and straightening out clothing...

She made her way towards the stands and noticed that Ginny was waving to her. Taking a deep breath she smiled and waved back.

"Hey, you came after all," Ginny said as Hermione climbed up the stairs and took a seat next to her.

"I wasn't sure if you'd still be here," Hermione explained.

"Well, everyone was talking in the common room and then Ron made us wait until he had a quick word with Malcolm and Graham about rehearsing before we came out here."

"Ahhh..." Hermione said, as if this all was new information. "So they just started?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, peering up at the players. She managed to catch Seamus' eye and waved to him eagerly. Hermione smiled to herself and sought out Harry first. He was giving some instructions to Fred and George and hadn't noticed her arrival.

But someone else had.

Hermione shifted her glance instinctively and found Ron hovering in the air looking in her direction in a sullen manner. She frowned and looked down unsure of how to react.

"So how was the rehearsal with Malfoy?" Ginny asked conversationally.

"Oh, uh," Hermione stuttered, unprepared. "It was fine, I guess. You know, considering..."

Hermione was struck with the realization that she was becoming very inarticulate when asked about Malfoy or even when she was talking to him. She wondered if anyone else had noticed. How mortifying.

Ginny didn't appear to notice and Hermione wondered how much of her was listening to Hermione's answer and how much was following Seamus' every move.

So much the better.

They watched the rest of the practice in relative silence. Usually Hermione brought along a book or homework or something, but this time she had come unprepared. Her script was still in her lap but she didn't feel like opening it up.

Quite some time passed before Harry signaled the end of the practice, landed, dismounted gracefully from his broom and made his way over to them.

"Hey, Ginny. Hermione! I'm glad you turned up."

Hermione shrugged good-naturedly. "My rehearsal didn't take as long as I thought."

Harry's smile wavered for a second but then his boyish grin returned. "Well, we were delayed in starting anyway." He turned to gesture to Ron, but the stubborn redhead was already walking back to the castle with Fred and George.

Harry frowned slightly and then turned back to Hermione.

"Coming?"

"Yeah," Hermione said standing up. She fell into step next to Harry and Ginny and Seamus followed behind them.

"Er... how did the rehearsal go with Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Ginny told me," he added sheepishly.

"It went okay," Hermione said, trying to keep emotion out of her voice. But then she remembered the other challenge that faced her. "But..."

"But what?" Harry asked, immediately primed to do battle with whatever was bothering her.

"Well, it seems Malfoy has been assigned as my partner for my Arithmancy project."

Harry was quiet for a moment.

"Ah," he said. "And this would be the project you mentioned earlier?" The reminder of her cover story in Hogsmeade lingered in the air for a moment.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Hermione repeated slowly, unsure if she had heard correctly.

"Yes," Harry said glancing at her. "It's a school project. No point in getting upset... it's just like when Snape assigns Malfoy to work with me or puts other Gryffindors and Slytherins together."

Hermione gave a sigh of relief. "That's true. Plus, Malfoy and I can rehearse the play scenes and do this all at once. Maybe it'll all be over sooner."

Not that I think I really want that.

Eep.

"But... Ron," Hermione said, broaching the subject of their friend. "He's going to get upset over this too, for no reason."

Harry sighed. "Actually, I think right now he's starting to realize how much he misses you. He might not take it as badly as you think."

Hermione looked at him. "Are you serious?"

 

Harry gave a soft laugh. "Okay, it's Ron. He's not going to take it well. But, I don't think he's going to throw quite the fit that he, uh, did last time."

Hermione gave him another doubtful look. "I don't even want to tell him anymore, but then it seems like it's some dark, guilty secret."

Harry paused in front of the door and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "He'll get over it. And even if it takes some time, this play will be over soon and so will your project." He paused. "Hey, I'm going to go try and catch up with him."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Okay. See you in the common room." Harry nodded and took off in a jog after Ron. She turned to face Ginny and Seamus who had also came to a halt.

"Hey, Ginny," Seamus started, "I'll meet you in the common room. I'm going to ask Hermione about that thing."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Ginny said, nodding quickly. She smiled at Hermione as she walked by, but Hermione suddenly felt a tingle of unease in her stomach. What did Seamus want to ask her?

"Seamus?" she started.

He smiled at her. "Oh, sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to make you worry. It's just about rehearsals."

"Oh," Hermione gave a sigh of relief. "What about them?"

"Well, we're going to get together and practice Act Three, Scene Two the day after tomorrow."

"Okay..." Hermione wasn't sure where this was going or why everyone else had gone on. "I don't think I'm in that scene..."

"No, but we'd love for you to be there to help out. It's going to be in the common room. But, uh..."

"But...?" Here was the grand mystery.

"Er, all the players in this scene are Gryffindors except, um, Benedick is in this scene."

"Benedick?" Hermione repeated, comprehending. "Malfoy?"

"Yes. We were hoping you could, er, tell him about it."

"You're having the rehearsal in the Gryffindor common room when Malfoy's in the scene?"

"Uh, yeah. That way we don't have to worry about-"

"Anyone seeing the gang-up on Malfoy?" Hermione screeched. She paused when she saw Seamus' expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean to shriek but-"

"I know. But everyone agreed on it. And they agreed to allow Malfoy in."

"And you want me to ask him because..."

"Because he seems to be getting on better with you than any of the other Gryffindors."

 Hermione put her hands over her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "This is a really bad idea, Seamus. Malfoy's not going to want to come and he probably won't. And if he does there will be no rehearsal, just the usual exchange of insults."

"Hermione, trust me, I think we can all contain ourselves. At least for one rehearsal."

"And Ron?"

Seamus looked shifty. "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I think he's getting sick of fighting with you. Does he still hate Malfoy? Of course. But he agreed to this whole thing. And he promised Harry he wouldn't provoke Malfoy."

"What if Malfoy provokes him?"

"Er..."

"I can't control Malfoy, you know. And he's going to be defensive." 

"It's just a rehearsal, Hermione. Like the ones we've been having en masse in the hall."

Hermione shook her head. This was such a bad idea and it was unfair to Malfoy. She was not looking forward to telling him.

"Fine. I'll ask him, but I don't promise he'll listen to me."

Seamus nodded. "Thanks."

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Hermione shook her head again and followed him up the stairs. He said the password and she slipped in after him.

She sat down on the couch and closed her eyes thinking about the past few hours - her talk with Harry, her classes, talking to Ginny, meeting Malfoy, the whole thing about projects and then the flying...

With her eyes closed she could relive the moments on the broom... Malfoy holding hers steady as they rose slowly... overcoming her nerves to follow him in a dive shouting her lines... and then all her fear and airsickness coming back. But Malfoy had been rather nice to her then, helping her down, not mocking her, and not getting to upset when she essentially shoved him into the bushes.

She felt the couch bounce slightly as someone else sat down next to her. She opened her eyes to see who it was and felt her mouth open slightly in surprise.

"Ron."

"Hey, Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?"