Untouchable

All was not well with the Golden Trio. Potions with Slughorn was the first lesson of the morning. Surprisingly enough, potions were not responsible for the distinctively foul mood that followed Ron, Harry, and Hermione on the way to the Dungeons. Harry walked in the middle and slightly ahead of the other two. His glasses sat askew on the bridge of his nose, his hair a curly tangle. He was on autopilot, his body pre-programmed to arrive at his designated destination, though he was miles away in mind and spirit. He moistened his lips and continued mouthing an internal dialogue with a higher consciousness: who would replace an injured Alicia Spinnet from his non-existent pool of substitutions?

The Quidditch match with Slytherin was in a few hours. It was his third game as Captain, and he was still reeling from that harrowing defeat against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor had to win. As captain, Harry had to win. He was also concerned about the latest addition to his team, their new keeper, Ronald Weasley.

Ron walked like the living dead. He had chewed his fingernails, so his fingers looked too short of gripping the broomstick. His breathing was shallow and labored, and he had developed a tremor. His position on the team was tenuous, given his recent performance. Ravenclaw chasers thought he did pretty well on his first appearance, letting in all thirteen of their goals and inviting Ron back to their common room for post-match celebrations.

Hermione Granger was also lost in thought and entirely on a different topic. However, it was a very dear topic to her and, therefore, could not have been quidditch-related. Carrying her school bag on her shoulders and a towering stack of late returns in her arms, she appeared literally and figurately burdened. Her eyes darted to either side of the corridor, focusing on various members of her year. She then muttered furiously to herself like a mad woman. The silence was broken eventually. "Slughorn can only make three recommendations," said Hermione.

Harry jolted back into real-time. "What? Who said that?"

"Huh?" came a pathetic whimper from Ron.

"It's the rules," Hermione let out a long-ragged breath, "For selecting prefects. Only three recommendations are allowed per teacher." Hermione whined. "He's only going to award the Slytherins."

Ron jumped, startled. "No, I won't." He said defensively. He looked at his trembling hands, praying they would hold the quaffle tight.

Hermione continued obliviously. "Yes, definitely, Malfoy. Probably Nott and maybe Goldstein."

Harry ground his teeth in spiking annoyance. "Goldstein is not on the team, and it's Montague and Pucey we've got to watch out for."

She sighed. "But Blaise Zabini's got a good chance too, and he's been working harder recently after he started hanging out with Nott."

Harry muttered more as a reassurance to himself. "He's been dropped. Too lazy. He never made it to practice on time." His voice trailed off, his attention turning to another high-priority quidditch matter. "Half our team is not in form. After this game, I want to schedule another practice every Wednesday night."

Ron nodded absently. "Yeah, I can make it."

Hermione's voice rose to a shrill squeak. "Only three recommendations are given per class; we won't all make it. Snape is biased toward Slytherin, even though DDA is Harry's best subject. Dumbledore won't vote. McGonagall wouldn't recommend three Gryffindors – that's favoritism! Parvati, Lavender, and Daphne Greengrass will get Trelawney's vote. Professor Sprout will recommend Neville, Millicent Bulstrode, and Eloise Midgeon. You two never paid any attention in Professor Binn's lessons or in arithmancy and ancient runes...which is why we must impress Slughorn!" She ended rather hysterically. "Well, at least we've got Hagrid's vote."

"HIGGS!" Harry stopped dead in the corridor, covering his mouth in shock. "Oh my God – I completely forgot about Higgs!"

Hermione readjusted her hold on near toppling stack of books. "Of course, Hagrid gets to vote! He still teaches here!" She leaped up in the air as Harry's school bag crashed. He kneeled on the floor, frantically tearing the flaps open, and pulled out a heavily crumpled, dog-eared set of parchment sheets. Some sheets even had coffee stains on them. "Damn!" He cursed. "I haven't included him in any of the plans."

"What plans, Harry?" Ron asked.

"You know - strategies and flying formations for the chasers. Why didn't Angelina even mention him to me? He's a chaser. No?" He scratched his head. "Oh my God, I remember now! He's tall with the spiky blonde hair - that tank on a broom!"

"Tank?" Ron gulped. "What's a tank?"

That was when Hermione was shaken out of her reverie. "Harry, is that your potions homework?" She gestured despairingly to the crumpled pile Harry held fisted in one hand. "We are going tank potions as it is! We are never going to get recommendations if you hand that in! I thought I told you about extra care with homework and classwork this month."

Harry pointedly ignored her as he laid out each sheet on the floor before trying to remember their order. He searched for Higg's name. "I didn't include Higgs anywhere, and I can't even remember how he flies. Ron, are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, sure." Ron chirped. "I just missed what you said."

"Ron!" Harry and Hermione screamed.

Hermione glanced briefly to the end of the corridor, noting the time from the hourglass present. "Oh my goodness, we are so late!" She stifled a cry at the watch and at Harry's position on the floor, where he was calmly examining several scrap sheets. "Harry, we are late!"

"I know." He growled.

"We need to get a move on!" She snapped back. "Why can't you just put the sheets in the bag, and let's go to class."

He replied smoothly. "Why don't you just go to class yourself?"

She always had an answer. "Because we are already late! It is better to go in a group and put up a united front than go as rag-tag individuals. Slughorn will be angrier at having three interruptions in his lesson than just having one!"

"Shut up, Hermione!" Harry growled. "Wish I hadn't asked." He muttered in a furious undertone.

"Ask what, Harry? Why am I even bothered about whether you two become prefects when neither of you is the least concerned?" She spat furiously. "Do not want even to be considered for Head Boy?"

"It's not that important right now," Harry said weakly, not wanting to fight her.

"Not important?" Hermione's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. "That's not what you told me three days ago!"

Ron clutched his sides and groaned. Hermione and Harry halted in their tracks. "I feel sick." He mumbled.

All hell broke loose. They were fifteen minutes late by the time they entered. Slughorn tutted disapprovingly before writing their names down in his register. Hermione apologized profusely while Harry and Ron dashed to the seats hoping they had not been seen. The class was divided into three groups and had already started work on their experiment. Harry and Ron joined Neville, and Hermione partnered with Lavender and Parvati.

"The professor said some of the ingredients are volatile, and they don't mix well," Neville said.

Hermione's head appeared from over Neville's shoulder. She chirped. "Try not to move any glass flasks unless necessary. Some of the fluids tend to evaporate with the smallest amount of disruption. And for Merlin's sake, don't tip the main cauldron." The last phrase was directed at Ron. "One more thing, at the end of the experiment, you have to put your five vials containing samples of the final product on the shelves in that glass cabinet. Don't even think of carrying them in your hands." She gave them both a tube rack and then a tray. "That's what these are for."

"Yes, mother. "Ron grumbled.

She huffed. "Honestly, you two are so ungrateful. Not even one word of thanks." She stalked off to her seat, rejoining Parvati and Lavender.

Harry turned to Ron almost immediately and asked. "She missed the fifteen minutes of the lesson, and how is she the one telling us what to do?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer when Slughorn stood up and waved his arms, wanting the whole class's attention. "Just a reminder to the latecomers; we will be brewing a series of complex potions over the next few lessons. You are working in groups of your choice today, but in the following lessons, I may assign groups to you." He paused for a minute as loud groans erupted from Slytherin and Gryffindor's students. "My advice to you is to read the instructions carefully. I cannot stress that enough. Work safely and watch the clock. As you are aware, the outcome of these experiments may have a bearing on perfect applications. More importantly, those who excel may expect an invitation to network over candlelit dinner with the best and brightest minds at Hogwarts."

Harry turned around and glanced over at Hermione. Her jaw was set in a grim, determined line; her lips were pursed. Someone was tempted. She held a quill poised over a battered notebook, like a falcon hovering above a cliff face. Merlin preserve all those who stood before her.

"Why were you so late, Hermione?" Lavender asked as she crushed willow leaves with the pestle and mortar into a smooth brown paste.

"Don't ask." She threw a dark look at the three boys working haphazardly on their potion, a few benches behind them.

Lavender giggled. "We thought you were sick, and it would have been a terrible time to fall sick."

Hermione cocked a brow, failing to understand.

"Everyone I know is gunning for prefect," Parvati explained. "Just imagine, as a prefect, you could award points to your house and take points from everyone else."

"Yes!" Lavender exclaimed, "On the night patrols, you have a legitimate reason to be out of bed after hours. We could organize so many parties!"

Hermione said flatly. "I think that would count as a misuse of office."

"The prefect bathroom is the stuff of legends!" Parvati quipped. "If I were Moaning Myrtle, I would happily die there and haunt it for the rest of my life."

Hermione winced. "I'm not sure Myrtle got the choice…."

"You are applying for Head Girl after you get prefect ship, right?" When Hermione nodded, Lavender continued. "I'm sure you'll get it anyway, but getting your room in a turret with a view would be so good!

We should do sleepovers every week! I am already so bored of the dormitories."

"It's going to be wild."

"We could be your deputies!" Parvati suggested rather forcefully.

Hermione groaned under her breath.

"If there is the head girl is Gryffindor, the board elects a head boy from a different house!"

Parvati nudged her elbow, "Look at the table next to us. It's called forward planning, and you can thank me later."

"You guys are drooling over Malfoy?" Hermione asked incredulously, wiping her fringe out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "He's never going to get Head Boy!" The platinum blonde lifted his head almost immediately and glared at her.

Lavender hissed. "Keep your voice down!"

Parvati pouted. "But why did all the good-looking ones end up in Slytherin?"

Hermione failed to suppress a giggle. She teased. "I can't believe you, Parvati, and I thought you had standards. Not all the good-looking ones ended up in Slytherin - spare a thought for Marcus Flint."

"What rubbish?" Lavender jested. "Those teeth are a knockout!" Lavender chimed. "I hope that Malfoy will buy his way into becoming Head Boy even if he does not get it on merit."

"Seriously, why did you pick this table, Parvati? We are so far away from the other Gryffindors!" Hermione moaned.

"I thought we could copy off them!" Parvati said bluntly, pointing to the Slytherin boys' table. "We weren't sure, Hermione if you would sit next to us or with Harry. But you know, his loss, our gain."

"We never get any work done together! I am regretting this decision already!" Hermione giggled as her shoulder bumped her friends, and Lavender put an arm over her shoulder. "I am glad you're here. We need all the help we can get."

That's when Hermione noticed the other two, Zabini and Nott. Zabini was carefully measuring out synovial fluid, and the sight of Nott made her lungs seize ever so slightly. She dropped her head, pretending to read the instructions, aware of the flutter in her chest. She did not need any distractions, as they were competing for Slughorn's prefect recommendations. Her gaze lifted from the print on the parchment and onto the male lounging in his seat like a panther less than seven paces away. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his dark brown tresses falling over his eyes as he leaned over his cauldron.

Parvati cackled silently. "I didn't know you had a thing for Zabini."

"I don't." She stated that as she started powdering eggshells, she took over Lavender's pestle and mortar duties.

Parvati warned. "Good, because you will not believe the crazy week he has been having!"

She put down the glass flask she held and motioned the others to come closer. All three leaned in over the table. "You know he got kicked off the Slytherin quidditch team?"

Hermione pondered. "That's probably why he's been keeping a very low profile this week. Normally he gives the teachers hell in every lesson."

"Well, that's the official line," Lavender said, eyes gleaming. "This is something I heard from a reputable source, and I won't name names."

"You told me it was Daphne Greengrass." Parvati deadpanned.

"Okay, so it was her." Lavender coughed. "Daphne's Dad works in the ministry, and he investigates suspected insurance fraud. Do you remember that fire that broke out in the Quidditch Pavilion two days ago?

"I heard there was a small fire. Filch put it out quickly, and there was barely any damage." Hermione recalled.

"The Zabini family, for generations, has been making regular donations to the Slytherin quidditch team, probably for tax avoidance purposes. Blaise found out he was getting cut from the team days before it was announced, but they were still planning to take the payments from the Zabini family fund."

"That's what happens when you pay to get on the team," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Anyway, estate lawyers got involved. In short, Marcus Flint used the money to buy a new kit for the team when he wasn't supposed to touch the final payment, and it was meant to be refunded."

"I bet that didn't go down well," Hermione said absently. Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "Don't tell me the new kit was kept in the pavilion?"

"It got burnt to a crisp, and they could not even prove it was arson. Daphne's dad said there was no evidence to tie Zabini to the fire. So, guess who got reimbursed for his troubles?"

Hermione hissed, "He claimed the insurance for a fire he started?"

"That is insane."

"That's not all." Lavender spilled. "For his last game, Zabini struck a deal with Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, and gave him all the flight formations that Slytherin was planning to use. He practically scored forty points for them during the game. Flint was hopping mad."

Parvati added. "Zabini went to the Ravenclaw match party the same night, celebrated with them openly, and went on an absolute bender. Padma told me he screwed two of their seventh years that night. One of them went to the hospital wing with a widespread gonorrhoea infection. I mean it was everywhere."

"How do you mean?" Hermione hissed. Their cauldron bubbled fiercely. She lowered the heat and focused on her friends without a backward glance.

"Madame Pomfrey announced her diagnosis across the entire bay. It was in her knee, on her skin, everywhere!"

"The St. Mungo's medical students interning with Pomfrey are writing it up as a case report!"

Hermione inhaled sharply while Lavender gasped with both hands across her mouth. All three spontaneously snuck a sideways glance at Zabini, stirring his cauldron's contents, totally oblivious.

Lavender muttered. "His knee looks fine."

Hermione swatted her on the arm. "That's not how it spreads."

Malfoy peered over his cauldron with a checkboard and conferred inaudibly with Zabini, who nodded and changed places with Malfoy.

"I can't believe this all happened in the last week. How come they are acting like best friends?" Parvati gestured to the neighboring table.

"I think they called a truce," Hermione said perceptively. "The Slytherins should have just kept Zabini on the team."

"It's not worth the trouble getting rid of him."

"I agree." Parvati concurred, chuckling softly. "Is this not the messiest breakup ever? And it isn't even a romantic relationship."

"I would be so scared of Zabini." Lavender rubbed the goose pimples on her arms and shivered. "He would make the craziest ex-boyfriend, and he is absolutely unhinged."

"Break up with him, and he will burn your house."

"Well, he has got form!" Parvati said, flicking her braid over one shoulder. "He is perfect one-night stand material, ideally on a conjugal visit, so he can't follow you home."

"Imagine being his therapist," tittered Lavender.

Hermione deadpanned. "Forget therapy; tell him to talk to his ancestors!"

Lavender threw her head back and shrieked. Parvati grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly. "Shhh! Slughorn will hear us."

"There is a lot of talking and not enough working from some of you!" Professor Slughorn droned from behind a newspaper.

At Slughorn's sudden declaration, Theo jumped. He looked up from his parchment at Blaise's Zabini's dark expression. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine." He ground out in a low whisper.

"What is the matter with you?"

"What's going on?" Malfoy interrupted, his interest piqued in the unexpected chatter from the bench. Nott didn't talk unless necessary, and a verbose Blaise Zabini was reduced to monosyllabic speech. How intriguing.

"Nothing," came Theo's terse reply. "I assume it has to do with our quidditch team selection."

Zabini and Malfoy groaned simultaneously.

"What the hell, Nott?" Blaise snarled, smacking his palm hard on the table. "I never said a word about the quidditch!"

"Not this again!" Malfoy cursed. He dropped the spatula into the cauldron, and it slid under the waterline.

"Are you trying to get me in more hot water than I already am?" Blaise demanded.

"You looked displeased," Nott added slyly. I couldn't imagine what else could be troubling you, Blaise."

"Merlin's beard; I wish I hadn't asked," Malfoy muttered."I'm going to get some more chamomile from the storeroom. Let's park this topic before it derails itself." He turned to Nott, "You need to learn when to leave things be!"

Theo waited patiently for Malfoy's exit. His gaze took in the prominent muscle ticking in Blaise's jaw, "What's going on?" He said quietly under his breath.

"The girls on the next table know about the fire." He paused.

Nott took a deep breath and said in a measured tone. "Daphne has been talking, and she takes Divination with Lavender Brown." He said after a long pause, "There is no evidence to implicate either of us. The girls will gossip about you until a better topic of conversation comes along."

"Well, it's more like a character assassination," Blaise said.

Theo pursed his lips thoughtfully, "It's only an assassination if you identify with that character."

"They know about the match, the party, and Cho."

Nott froze. "You are on your own."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You are no help."

"I helped you when you needed help." Nott snapped, thinking of the quidditch kit. "You've been anything but discreet this week."

"Discreet? I have the right to defend myself."

"I'd hardly call it defense. You refuse to take responsibility for your actions. Let them talk."

Blaise swore at him.

"Don't add fuel to the fire, Zabini. Whatever you do, don't go over there." Theo said to the empty chair next to him.