Chapter 4
Hermione mulled over Luna’s words for the rest of the evening. She hardly even paid attention as Ron boasted animatedly about not only getting the Hufflepuffs to join, but also Terry Boot and Antony Goldstein.
“Corner was there too but he was being a right git about the whole thing, saying he’d only join if Harry could tell him a bit more about Cedric’s death. I told him not to bother and that we didn’t need gossip mongers like him. I also said that he could stay in his room reading about spells while we went out and actually learned how to use them. Isn’t that right Hermione?” Ron grinned, nudging her gently.
“Mm” she hummed distractedly.
“Everything alright?” Ron asked.
Hermione looked up, meeting his concerned gaze.
“Oh yes, I’m just… distracted. You know… worried about Harry.” She said quickly, not wanting to talk about her conversation with Luna just yet. She had a lot to think about and she was quite sure that bringing up anything Malfoy related would have her enduring a long-drawn-out lecture on his hatred for the guy instead of anything remotely constructive.
Ron nodded solemnly, buying her lie. He sighed, “Yeah, Umbridge is a sadistic bitch if you ask me. I keep telling him to go tell McGonagall at the very least but… well you know how he gets.”
Hermione smiled weakly at him, suddenly feeling quite guilty that she hadn’t even been thinking about the medieval torture her best friend was going through in detention with the evil toad.
“I think he’s been through so many losses this past few years… he just… doesn’t want Umbridge to have this over him. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s losing, especially if he has any control over the matter.” Hermione said softly.
Ron nodded back, sadness heavy in his blue eyes. “Still, I wish Harry could win without permanently scarring himself.”
“I think by the end, Harry’s not the only one who’s going to be carrying lifelong scars.” Hermione replied, the heaviness in her heart sinking even lower as she took in the gravity of her own words.
Ron winced and the two shared a dark look before looking back down at their books, neither of them taking in the words on the pages in front of them, as they waited for Harry to return from detention.
…
The next morning, Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off the Ravenclaw table, restlessly scanning the students for a Draco Malfoy lookalike.
“Who’re you looking for ‘Mione?” asked Harry, looking quizzically at her from across the dining table.
“Oh, no one in particular.” Hermione responded hurriedly. “Just – uh, constant vigilance and all that.”
Both Ron and Harry gave her a funny look but didn’t press her further, turning back to continue their conversation about the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.
She studied the Ravenclaws but none of them stood out to her. She hardly knew the younger years except Luna, and she was sitting by herself, slowly shoveling some cereal into her mouth as she kept her eyes focused on an upside-down edition of the newest Quibbler release.
She sighed, ready to give up, when the obnoxious drawl of an all too familiar voice broke her from her perusing.
“Granger. Still haven’t figured out how to use a brush I see.”
She looked around, annoyed, to see Draco Malfoy standing behind her, his arms crossed, smirking down at her.
“Shove off Malfoy, you have no business here.” Ron spat angrily, a few pieces of bread flying out of his mouth as both he and Harry jumped to their feet.
Malfoy slowly wiped a piece of said bread from his cheek, shooting Ron a disdainful glare before turning back to Hermione.
“Sharing pleasantries with Gryffindors is not usually how I prefer to start my morning either ,Weasley. In fact, just having to look at your rags of a uniform is making me wish I’d done this before I put food into my body.”
Ron’s face began to turn a dangerous shade of red as he reached to grab his wand.
“What do you want Malfoy?” Hermione quickly interjected, not wishing to have to accompany anyone to the infirmary before their first class had even started. “If you’re just here to make snobbish comments about my appearance, why don’t you save that for Potions in two hours?”
Malfoy threw her a cold smirk, running a hand through his own perfectly styled hair. “You must think quite highly of yourself, Granger, to think I’d walk all the way over here for the chance to comment on your looks. But now that you mention it, if I were to make some critiques in the hopes that you might take them on board, I’d start with your bullish and strikingly unpleasant personality, not your looks. That would come third on the list of things that need immediate fixing, after your shrill and grating voice.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, trying not to allow Malfoy’s insults to get to her.
“You slimy bast-“
“What do you want then?” she retorted angrily, standing up to position herself between Ron and Malfoy.
“Prefect rounds. I have the profound displeasure of having been paired with you. We’re to report to Flint in ten minutes to go over the schedule.”
“Like hell!” shouted Harry, ignoring the curious stares being given from around the dining hall.
“Last time I checked Potter, you weren’t given the honour of being a prefect, so what’s it to you?” Malfoy drawled. “You know, I was quite surprised to hear you were left off the list. Not that I thought you were deserving of course, but being Dumbledore’s pet and all, I’d have assumed he would jumped at the chance to adorn you with every prize he could get a hand on. What happened? Your little lies got too much for even that barmy old wizard to support you?”
Harry stood fuming. He hadn’t said a word about it since they’d come back to Hogwarts, but Hermione knew that it was hurting him, thinking that Dumbledore hadn’t trusted him enough to make him prefect, especially after everything he’d been through in fourth year.
Not wanting things to escalate further, Hermione quickly turned to Malfoy, “Dumbledore trusts him just fine, Malfoy, as do we all. Now shove off. I’m partnered with Ron.”
Malfoy sneered, his face wrinkling in distaste. “Change of plans Granger, Umbridge doesn’t think you Gryffindors can be trusted to walk around the castle at night, left to your own devices. You’re with me now. Weasley, you should probably trot off and go find Pansy. Don’t worry –“ He said, smirking at Ron’s horrified expression, “she’s not all too pleased about the pairing either. In fact, I think she might be in the girl’s bathroom right now, throwing up her breakfast. We were planning on using our patrol time to get a bit more intimate with each other, if you know what I mean, but the duty to the illustrious High Inquisitor comes first and all that.”
Hermione gagged at the thought of Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy together, and threw a grimace at Harry, who was too busy glaring daggers into Malfoy to notice.
“Well, let’s go then.” She sneered back.
“Ladies first.” He smirked in response, letting her throw the most withering glare she could at him before storming out of the Great Hall.
…
The prefects’ meeting was a disaster. Umbridge had tripled the number of Slytherin prefects to include Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Tracy Davies and Daphne Greengrass as well, causing an uproar amongst the other houses. Percy sat stoically in his chair, ignoring the shouting of the fifth years, as he deftly went about rearranging the rounds schedule.
“Percy, you can’t be serious!” Ernie MacMillan was shouting. “This is preposterous! We are Prefects, we don’t need to be babysat by some sodding Slytherins!”
Padma was chiming in as well. “And there’s 6 of them! That’s blatant favouritism. How is this fair!”
“Inquisitor Umbridge’s orders, technically the new additions are part of the new Inquisitorial Squad initiative, not prefects per se,” came Percy’s stiff response. “Abbot you can do Wednesdays, right?”
To her right, Ron was raging at his brother. “Percy you’ve always been a git, but this is just too far. At least pair me with Greengrass! Parkinson’s a raging b-“
Before he could finish his sentence, Malfoy and Zabini both raised their wands, one of them casting a silencing charm over him, whilst the other had chosen a more violent route and blasted Ron into the farthest wall.
“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, rushing to his side.
Ron’s face was crimson, his mouth still moving and spit flying, albeit silently.
Parkinson, currently being held back from flying at Ron with her flailing limbs by a bemused Theodore Nott, was screeching, “You think I want to be paired with you penniless blood-trait-“
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Percy, finally cracking, threw his schedule across the room, letting his chair topple over as he jumped up. The room fell silent, mostly in surprise, being that it was the first time any of them had seen perfect Percy lose his temper.
“If you have problems with who you are assigned to, take it up with Inquisitor Umbridge. You are all PREFECTS.” He hissed, his face growingly matching the colour of his hair. “You are supposed to be model students, people the younger students can look up to. I will not have you brawling under my watch because you simply ‘don’t like’ one of your peers. SUCK IT UP! Patrol in silence, patrol apart, I don’t care! I have NEWTs to study for and jobs to apply for. I will not waste my time babying you lot over something as simple as a patrol schedule. This is your assignment. Now deal with it and get off to class!”
Barking his final command, Percy stormed out of the prefects’ room, his loud grumblings still audible as he stomped down the corridor.
The awkward silence of Percy’s breakdown was broken by the most irritatingly smug voice Hermione knew to be of in existence.
“Well Granger, seems we’ve got Mondays and Thursdays.”