The Jock and the Swot

Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks to AlbinoPeacock for posting the plunny for this story. Thanks to Fae Orabel for betaing this story! All other mistakes are mine. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. See the gorgeous manip that Klawdee890 made for this story on Tumblr!

And major thank you to all my readers for reading, whether you reviewed or not!

Enjoy!

~0o0~

A week after summer break began, Hermione found herself buried in Grimmauld Place's library. Her parents had moved to Australia the year before, with Hermione's blessing, for she had plenty to keep her occupied and friends in the wizarding world able and willing to house her until she graduated. She often spent her summers at the Burrow with the Weasley's or with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place anyway. This just meant she had more time for research, something her parents only understood obliquely. She missed them and planned to visit sometime after she graduated, but she was ambitious and had a lot she wanted to complete prior to her Hogwarts graduation.

During the first week she had been home, she'd approached Sirius in the kitchen about pure-blood customs. "Do you know them?" she asked, leaning against the wall to the entryway as Harry and he lounged at the large table. They had been discussing that morning's paper before she had entered and instated herself into their conversation.

"I do," Sirius replied with a frown, putting the paper down, "but you know I've never really subscribed to all that tripe."

"Everyone else seems to," Hermione murmured, looking down at her hands, her shoulder digging into the wall. She picked at her nail, hoping her nonchalance would help when she revealed her next statement. "Actually, your cousin offered to teach them to me."

"Draco?" he asked, sitting up from his lounging position and putting a hand around his glass of whisky he'd seeming forgotten in his discussion with Harry. His action told Hermione he may need a sip to deal with whatever she said next. "Really?"

Hermione hummed and nodded, still putting off a false air of unconcern, as if her spending time with Draco Malfoy was more in character than her unexplainable relationship with Rowle.

"Malfoy? Seriously, Hermione? What's in it for him?" Harry asked, also sitting straighter at the table across from Sirius. "And why are you spending time with him anyway?"

Hermione shrugged, pushing off the wall and moving to stand at the side of the table between the two. "I ran into him at the end of year party with Rowle," she explained. "I definitely felt out of my depth, and Malfoy offered. So I accepted."

"Slytherin party?" Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair and swirling his glass of whisky in his hand.

"Yes," Hermione said, refusing to look embarrassed about it. She knew Sirius hated his Slytherin roots, but honestly, the house prejudice was much less now than it had been when he attended Hogwarts and Voldemort was at the height of his reign.

"That explains it," Sirius nodded to himself. He looked thoughtful for a moment but didn't say anything else. Harry soon moved the conversation over to Quidditch, and Hermione resigned herself to waiting for Malfoy's owl. It was clear that Sirius had no intention of teaching her anything anyway.

~0o0~

Hermione was startled out of her reverie when there was a knock on the door to the library. Kreacher entered slowly. "There's a guest for you, miss, waiting in Master Sirius's library," the old elf said, bowing so low his nose touched the floor.