Chapter 4
Hermione POV
Despite her best efforts to stem the tears, she couldn't stop from crying. The research project had seemed like her ticket to furthering her study outside of Hogwarts. She knew that the magical community still favored Purebloods, and muggleborns faced a tough time. As things already were, she would graduate in two years without really any concrete plan of where her future lay. She was good in all her subjects, but it remained limited in many ways to the course curriculum. It felt like she knew nothing, and soon she would have to decide what she wanted to do. Harry already knew he wanted to be an Auror, Luna would assist her dad with The Quibbler, Neville knew he wanted to do something with Herbology, and wherever she turned it seemed everyone just knew what they would do.
Was it because, as Professor McGonagall had put it, she had theoretical command in nearly all the major subjects that she was this confused about her life path—then again to be fair, McGonagall had given just the slightest stress on theoretical, and indeed, as far as practical aspects went, she largely drew a blank. That's why the research had been such a great opportunity, and when it was aborted, she felt it like a personal blow—even the aconite poisoning had not felt this painful.
Sobbing in the cubicle, she emerged and splashed water on her face. She took her time rubbing the itch salve on her arm, and still she did not feel like leaving the washroom, but she knew any minute now the 5th years' would finish their last class, and many girls would come here. She gave one last look to her red eyes, but she knew she couldn't really do anything about it right then. If anyone asked, she'll tell them it was a side-effect of the aconite antidote potions she was taking.
She headed to the library and sat at her favorite desk near the back with good sunlight, but few students visited that aisle as it had all the advanced reference books.
She took out her assignment scroll, and set to working with the heavy tome of Nabinsky's Artithmancy:The Magical World of Numbers. As she worked on decoding where 1 should be assigned, and where null would work better for predictions, her agitation soothed. Arithmancy was clear and precise, it called to her logical mind, and the thrill of assigning the right numbers which fit like jig-saw puzzles, it gave her a positive feedback loop—the analysis of the numbers, and then the satisfaction of reaching the solution through an objective method was agreeable to her.
Tom POV
He spotted her with her distinctive bushy hair bent over a voluminous tome, and her quill scratching at her scroll. Occasionally, she would look up and outside the window, her quill point pressed to her index finger as she thought of something, and then she would get back to flipping through the book, and writing. She was in a whole world of her own. Her concentration was like a force-field keeping people at bay. Twice he had seen Nott moving in her periphery, and then giving a sigh and leaving altogether, while Granger did not even notice him. He knew Nott had wanted the book on Advanced Charms by Faolan Dagh'ir. But it seemed that as soon as he thought of stepping into the aisle, he would shake his head and go somewhere else.
The same happened with another boy who had seemed to go in that aisle but he went in another direction.
Tom got curious. Perhaps the girl had used a repelling charm over the area. Sending a few detection spells, he traced the outline of the faint repelling charm Granger had cast around her desk. It was just that the sphere of her charm extended to a degree to the bookshelf behind her, and that's why Nott had seemed to remember something else the minute he walked in.
Tom sent the negation charm to the invisible sphere so he could go to her desk. He didn't know why he did it. Yes, like Nott he had wanted the copy of Advanced Charms, but unlike Nott, he already had a headway on his assignment, and it wasn't as if he urgently needed the book. He was honest enough to admit to himself that since he had met the girl, it was as if he searched around for her presence without his conscious thought. He went to her desk and sat down opposite her.
"Miss Granger."
She was sufficiently startled to look up at him. Her eyes were a bit red, but that was to be expected. Then she frowned at him, probably realizing that he had removed her charm.
"If you don't mind, could you pass me the copy of Advanced Charms right behind you."
She gave him an even look and turned around to grab the copy. He gave a glance to her scroll, it was arithmancy work, and her writing was neat without unnecessary crossing on the scroll.
As soon as she handed him the book, he got down to his work, and she returned to hers. But sometime later he noticed her stealthily take out her wand and move it in the circular motion that repelling charms required. She had quickly set up the repelling charm again around the desk, and this time, it covered a larger area.
"Miss Granger, you do realize that hogging library tables is not allowed."
She stiffened at his words, before her nostrils flared as she told him, "Riddle, you also know it is in bad form to poison a student, but since you don't follow rules, why expect others to follow them."
He really would have laughed at the look of anger on her face. With her face flushed pink, slightly puffy eyes, and defiant tilt of her riotous hair, she looked like a kitten who had drawn out her claws, a kitten who was trying to look intimidating but looked cute instead.
"What poisoning are you talking about?" he egged her a bit. He wanted to see what she had the capacity to do if she got really mad.
"You were the one who poisoned me and it's because of you that the research got cancelled,": she gritted through her teeth.
Sidestepping her accusation on her poisoning, Tom addressed her on the research: "Tell me Miss Granger, do you really think the research proposal had any merit to begin with? There was no research outline, just a vague fancy of finding one's love through luck. What of the ingredients—they are all in some manner incompatible to brewing together. This research proposition had no real basis."
She seemed to be absorbing his words, but she still countered, "But it is Professor Slughorn. He must have had an idea on the direction he wanted to take the work, and he wouldn't have called us simply to sort the ingredients. He must have had some breakthrough in his mind."
At her mention of sorting ingredients he couldn't help the snort that escaped him. He had been getting all sorts of permissions from Slughorn because he was the one meticulously sorting the potions ingredients. From his 3rd year to now, it was a tacit agreement that he would sort out the ingredients in return for the quick permissions he received from Slughorn.
"Miss Granger you're really naive if you think that the research had any basis to take off."
"I'm not naive," she responded with cold anger, as she shot up, about to shut her book, but she seemed to think of something, and shooting him a glare, she sat down and opened her tome again, brought her scroll toward herself and got back to work.
With the repelling charm around them, they worked on their respective assignments in companionable silence for the next 3 hours with just the scratching sound of quills breaking the silence.
Casting a tempus charm, Tom realized that dinner would be served in some time. Hermione saw the time as well, and started gathering her books and notes into her bag.
"Granger, let's meet up here on Sunday afternoon for the Fluxweed assignment."
He had thought that she would disagree, considering her anger at him, but she surprised him with a simple, "Sure, be here by 12."
As she was passing him by, he grabbed her arm lightly. She looked pointedly at her arm in his grasp, but he did not let go. He could somewhat understand her disappointment about the research. Being a muggleborn was not easy, even though blood purity was not so strictly adhered to, some prejudices still ran deep in the society. "You're called the Brightest Witch of her class, right. You should know that any research Slughorn proposes usually does not see the light of day. Professor Slughorn is good at liasoning, and sometimes even helping students with his contacts, but leading in potioneering research is not one of them. You've got a good deal with the extra credit assignments, and if you play your cards right, you'll be invited to the Slug Club, and that's at most the best bargain you can get."
As he had pointed out the obvious behavior of the Professor, he had seen the resigned understanding flash on her face, and perhaps some of her anger at him had melted. Releasing her hand he confirmed, "12 o'clock, here, on Sunday."
And when they left the library together, they still had a wary distance, but the silence between them was not so strained.