Bad Reputation

Flitwick's Classroom

Time — and information — fly. Since Hermione's first consult with Malfoy, a new rumor has surfaced that Malfoy enjoys threesomes. Particularly, that he enjoys being the "watercress" in the "sandwich."

"At least watercress is green," says Hermione, shaking her head as she updates her "clips" list of the latest misperceptions of Malfoy.

If that day's Amortentia lesson is any indicator, there are quite a few who would like to be a part of that sandwich. She sees a few salacious glares beam his way during the lesson, and guesses that the cauldrons are wafting up the aroma of tart apples.

Her own Amortentia smells like clean laundry. Merlin, that narrows it down. As she bends her head and tries to tease out another scent — any scent — she catches Malfoy's eye at the next table. He's looking at her intently.

"Who's the unlucky one, Granger?" he purrs, peering into his own cauldron. The steam rises from his potion in spirals so plump and symmetrical that it's rather annoying. He's always outperformed her in Potions, despite all her hard work.

She's too embarrassed to share that her sole criterion for attraction seems to be a basic command of hygiene. With Malfoy, anyway. When he realizes she's ignoring him — because it's not like they talk to each other in public — he chuckles and preens a little bit for the army of gossipmongers across the room.

She does discuss the laundry aroma later with Ginny as they catch up in the bathroom. Ginny snorts hysterically when she hears it. "It's definitely not Harry or Ron, then," she says, launching into horror stories about Harry's near-fermented Quidditch uniform and adding details about Ron's squalor that only a younger sister would be cursed to know.

"Speaking of Quidditch, how's the season looking, Ginny?" says Hermione, rinsing her mouth and parting her hair first on one side, then the other.

"We'll just be trying to keep up with Slytherin, mostly," says Ginny. "Since Malfoy grew taller over the summer he has more wingspan for grabbing the Snitch. On top of which he's excellent on a broom. And at other things, I hear," she snickers.

"Mm-hmm," says Hermione, changing course and trying a temple braid. Every curl escapes, and she eventually gives up and piles everything on her head as usual.

"Do you think any of it is true?" says Ginny, leaning against the sink with a keen look.

"Whussh froo?"

"Hermione, you just brushed your teeth five minutes ago. I mean do you think Malfoy is...well...as experienced as everyone says?"

Hermione leans deeply into the sink because little Ginny Weasley is, overall, a little too good at guessing things from the surface.

"The truth is probably somewhere in the middle," she says, casting a final anti-plaque charm for good measure.

***

Malfoy is late to their appointed meeting place: the Charms classroom. When he shows up, his hair is disheveled and his usual cockiness is somewhat dimmed. A whiff of smoke accompanies him into the room, and Hermione notices that his textbooks are singed at the edges.

"Sorry," he says — a first — putting his books and robes aside, then loosening and tossing aside his tie.

"Makes it a bit hard to breathe," he mutters as he approaches her.

After researching Professor Flitwick's schedule, Hermione has sealed the lock of his classroom door against all openers for one hour. She'd have preferred somewhere with couches or somewhere more comfortable to sit, but it's too exposed for this private course.