𝗔 𝗣𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗥𝗵𝘆𝗺𝗲

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲

Chapter Five - Toil and Trouble

After the news from Slughorn, Hermione Granger clambered through the portrait hole into Gryffindor common room with such haste that she slid out of it the first time. And, even upon her success there was acute disappointment to be found in the absence of her friends. Presumably, they'd all gone to bed, or were otherwise engaged in their respective rooms. The common room was by no means empty, but the only person with whom Hermione was on speaking terms was Parvati Patil - thoroughly consumed by the contents of her issue of Witch Weekly.

Sleep was attempted, and after an hour or so it was given up in favour of patching together some semblance of a lesson-plan. She simply could not get the notion out of her head, until she'd made some concrete timeline. With every minute of the hour accounted for, surely there would be no time left for conflict.

It wasn't until breakfast the next morning (after approximately four hours of sleep) that she was able to confide in her friends. Where before Hermione had hesitated to tell Ron and Harry anything, she now told them everything. There was no point in trying to hide it, when they would likely notice her absence in the first week. And, for all she knew, repeated exposure to Malfoy's bog-like persona might put her in the sort of dark mood where she'd take it out on her friends, if she couldn't talk about it.

What turned out to be the most disconcerting aspect of the scenario, was actually having all of her friends' attentions turned on her at once, for such a prolonged stretch.

Immediately after she'd caught them up to speed, she ran through a mental checklist in case she'd left anything out. Then, she nodded to herself and said aloud, "Well, that's it, I think. The lessons start today and I've got no clue how long I'll be stuck with them."

"You'll have to go to McGonagall, you will." Ron - who'd been quite still until that point - brandished a sudden sliver of bacon at her. "She'll put a stop to it, with that brutish way she's got."

"Don't call her brutish, Ronald." Hermione reproached. "Anyway, she already knows. Slughorn got her to arrange my schedule - with Dumbledore's support, mind."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Dumbledore is for it." There was no question in his tone, but Hermione nodded all the same.

"Snape went to him to move things along, I suppose."

Harry fell into a round of contemplation. His eyes were hard to see as he'd turned his face to the plate of sausage and eggs he'd hardly touched; but his brooding had developed a palpable quality over the years.

Ginny, meanwhile, said, "Hermione, they would never have supported the idea if you'd been more open about the way Malfoy's been treating you. Snape probably couldn't care less, but Dumbledore? McGonagall? They'd never put you in that situation."

Hermione dodged that bit. She was, for all intents and purposes, unequal to giving any answer that would satisfy. It was an intrinsic flaw, of course; but she could not, for the world, bring herself to the recruitment of a teacher to fight a battle that belonged solely to her. Perhaps if there was reason to believe that interference from the Headmaster or anyone else would put some miraculous stopper on Malfoy's antagonism, she might have requested it. But it would certainly only make things worse - would only make him smarter as to how he chose to display that antagonism.

So, with a faint hope that Malfoy would honour their tenuous treaty, she addressed Harry once more.

"What's got you looking that way, Harry?" She asked. "What are you thinking?"

"I think this proves every theory I've ever had about that slimy git." Harry said immediately. The gaze he lifted from his plate was, at least, even. "I think Dumbledore knows there's something going on with him, and he's putting you closer to him so that you can keep an eye out. Are you all blind, or what? This proves it. Malfoy is a Death Eater."