Change is Required
"And in conclusion, the addition of a Dark Arts Course to the Hogwarts curriculum is not only good publicity, but also the only way that we can keep all the young witches and wizards in Britain safe. Thank you." Hermione smiled at the Board of Governors, and tapped her index cards back into a neat stack. "Any questions?" She would treasure the gobsmacked look on Lucius Malfoy's face for the rest of her life. Before she could do more than meet his eyes, he was back to the bland expression that purebloods seemed to treasure.
"Ah, Miss Granger, this is not the speech that I thought you were going to be giving this evening," Professor McGonagall said weakly. "You think we should teach the Dark Arts at Hogwarts? You?"
While the old Scottish witch was the only one to speak, it was clear that the Board, as well as the headmaster, were waiting on her reply. "Yes, as I stated, it's entirely too dangerous to allow children to experiment with half the information provided from videos. There's no grounding in theory!"
At the end of the meeting, the decision was tabled for the January meeting. Hermione was hopeful, though. She had more support this time than she had ever had in the past. No one had cared about her House Elf project, or the quill use class for muggleborns, or even the updates to the uniform she requested last year. This time, she had half the board already on her side, and Augusta Longbottom looked close to agreeing too. Both the headmaster and Professor McGonagall stayed seated as she excused herself, followed shortly by the Board.
The unctuous tones of Lucius Malfoy made her pause. "Miss Granger, quite an impassioned speech you have given, yet again. Your arguments have improved in the past year, my commendations." She allowed herself to be ensnared in the conversation he so clearly desired. She would normally cut him off and escape as quickly as possible, but his vote, along with the rest of the dark faction, might be the only thing that got her latest measure passed. She couldn't afford to offend him right now. After about ten minutes of pointless conversation, he finally got to what seemed to be his point. "What exactly do you think you'll do after graduation this summer?"
She smiled at him, teeth carefully concealed, no matter how much she wanted to snarl at him. She hadn't forgotten his involvement in her disastrous second year. "I thought I would see what exactly they're doing at the Ministry, or perhaps go on to study Magical Law."
He raised one pale eyebrow and nodded. "Either way, if you continue to improve as you have this past year, please contact me. I have a few friends who might be able to," he paused delicately then continued, "smooth the way for you."
Hermione straightened, and her smile became more real. The possibility of having Lucius Malfoy backing her was tempting. She knew that apprenticeships at the major law firms were hard to come by for muggleborns, and having a pureblood with connections recommending her was priceless. She would have to be careful to make sure that she didn't indebt herself too deeply, but think of all the good that she could do! As she thanked the Malfoy Lord and he kissed the air above her hand, both of the professors finally left the room. Professor Dumbledore's skin paled so rapidly it looked like he was going to faint. Hermione blushed and pulled her hand back. "Really, thank you Lord Malfoy. I'll see you next month?"
He inclined his head in agreement, then nodded goodbye to Dumbledore and McGonagall, as he strode down the hall, his cane clicking gently in time with his steps. "Oh, Miss Granger, I do hope you know what you're doing," McGonagall whispered, before she pulled the stunned headmaster along towards his office.
Hermione nodded, her smile gone, and her expression flinty. While she loved her teachers, and respected what they had been teaching her for the past seven years, they had a bizarre blind spot they couldn't explain about "dark" magic. She had been studying for months now, and still hadn't discovered anything false about the explanation Barty had given her. (Of course, there were spells she didn't wish to cast, ones that had a cost beyond a few drops of her own blood, but that wasn't the whole of the dark arts!) She had even been invited to some rituals with Pansy, and left feeling refreshed and renewed, not dark at all. She was pretty sure there were other rituals they went to that weren't quite so innocent, but she wasn't asking for an invite to those. Sex magic seemed like too big a jump for her. She wanted her first time to be meaningful, not a side effect of someone else's ritual magic. Her magic wasn't even any darker than it was when she started practicing, she checked every month. She had seen the videos Professor Riddle posted about necromancy, but no one had ever invited her to anything like that. That was probably something only for shock value, anyway. Who would really want to do anything like that?
The real reason she was so annoyed about their blindness, though, wasn't that she disagreed philosophically with banning entire swaths of magic wholesale. It was the first year muggleborn stuck in the infirmary. He had tried a spell far beyond his level, one he discovered on Professor Riddle's feed. The professor had warned the viewers not to attempt it unless they really were prepared, but he hadn't listened. He had done it improperly, hadn't researched, and now he was stuck in a bed having all of the bones on the left side of his body regrown. The rumor was that he was horribly scarred and would need special treatment for the rest of his life. Professor Snape had been in a foul mood for weeks, working on a new scar cream as well as an improved Skelegrow. He had even resorted to making his 7th year class help with brewing the bases so he had more time to experiment. The cat was out of the bag with the dark arts. The spells were everywhere. There was no way to hide them again, and the staff ought to just face up to that fact and focus on keeping the students safe instead of preaching abstinence only when it comes to dark magic.
Even though Hermione knew that she was right, it felt strange to no longer have the warm regard of the Headmaster. She could feel his eyes on her, and the frown he wore, every time she ate in the Great Hall. Briefly she wondered if perhaps this was how Harry felt in 5th year. It might explain why he had been so volatile, the Headmaster's judgmental gaze was hard to bear.
Harry hadn't noticed the changes in her but Ron had. He watched her, with narrowed eyes, as she spoke about safety and the dark arts in the common room. He stared as she offered tips to the younger students, copying pages of her books for them. It all came to a head while they were on the Hogwarts Express on their way back to London for Yule break. "So, you're a dark witch now, 'Mione?" His voice and expression were both challenging, his arms crossed over his chest, his chin thrust out like he was looking for a fight.
"A dark witch? There's really no such thing. I just think that it's vital that young witches learn--"
He cut her off, "Yeah, I heard the speech when you were practicing it last week, I don't want to hear it again. You're doing dark magic, though, 'Mione. You're spending all your time with Slytherins, doing rituals. Do you know what that'll do to you? It twists people up. They won't be the same as they were before. You don't watch out, you'll end up like Bellatrix LeStrange, crazier than a niffler in Gringotts."
Hermione sighed deeply, and stared at her friend. "You really think that I'm going to go crazy by learning different spells? I'm not doing anything all that risky, just trying to figure out what all the fuss is over that show." Even to her, her words rang hollow. She knew that it had gone far past the show. She was engaged in several research projects with Barty and the Slytherins in her year, and they were just so interesting she couldn't bear to take a step back over Ron's prejudice. And that's all it could be, just prejudice. She hadn't felt anything different, and she would know if the magic was messing with her head. There were spells she hadn't tried, and necromancy gave her the creeps, but it was intellectually stimulating to consider. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but as long as she was careful, it was just as safe as any other magic. "Really, Ron, if you don't like it... I'm sorry, but I'm not going to change what I'm doing."
He nodded slowly, and stood up. "Alright then. If that's the way it is. Don't bother coming around the Burrow this Christmas. And tell Harry he isn't welcome either. I don't know exactly what him and Malfoy are up to, but it's bound to be dark."
Hermione bit her lip, and nodded, looking down. She blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes. She was used to Ron losing his temper. He normally would yell and fight and argue his points. Instead, he was cold and calm. She knew that this was different than his flash in the pan temper. This was far more serious. "If that's how you feel, Ron. I won't stop trying to keep everyone safe, but I'll stay out of your way."
He snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, alright. I'll believe that when I see it. Keeping people safe, with dark magic." He crowded close to her and yanked his trunk down off of the rack, hefting it up onto his shoulder with one hand. Hermione hadn't really noticed how much larger Ron had gotten over the past few years, but he was as tall as her father now, and far stronger. She shrank back just a little into the corner of the bench, her fingers playing over the protective amulet Barty had given her for Samhain. She knew that Ron wouldn't hurt her, he had never hit anyone in the 6 years they'd been friends. But in that moment she was still nervous.
Before the door had even finished shutting, Harry was slamming it back open. He looked around, not seeing Ron where he expected to, then grinned at Hermione. "Alright, 'Mione? C'mon, let's go. Draco and Blaise were about to break out the good stuff!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, barely giving her a moment to gather her bag before towing her to the Slytherin's favorite compartment.
The extended compartment held many of the people she'd become so close to over the discord chats and regular study groups, and they cheered when she walked in with Harry. After successfully casting her first spell, she had let the others know who she was, and relations had improved dramatically. They thought that her handle was one of the Beaters on the Hufflepuff team, and had been less than helpful since the boy had broken Draco's nose in the last match. She smiled, blushing at their approval. She had never dreamed of making friends with these people before, but it turned out that they had a better work ethic than all of the Tower combined, and she couldn't resist a well-made schedule. Harry propelled her into a seat between Pansy and Blaise, and a cup into her hand with the next motion. He was already sipping one of the gin drinks he'd been making for Slughorn all year. "Where was Ron anyway? I thought I saw him leaving?"
Hermione sighed and sipped her drink. It was one of the more herbal gins, not the floral one that they had last night. (one of the most unexpected things about this year was becoming an expert in the varieties of gin available in Hogsmeade. Her parents would not approve.) "Well, Ron said that I'm a dark witch, you're up to no good with Malfoy, and that we're not welcome at the Burrow this Yule."
Draco wrinkled his nose delicately. "Why would you go to the Burrow? I thought you were both attending Yule with us?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like I told him that! He'll think you and I are shagging again, and I only just convinced everyone that we're not. I don't see why everyone's so invested in my love life..." He trailed off muttering.
Pansy leaned in and whispered to Hermione, "It's the betting pool. The pot is up to 1000 Galleons, if you get both the person and the week for when he turns in his v-card."
Hermione blushed bright red and stifled her giggle with another long drink. "Right? I've got my 5 Galleons in. Definitely not on any of the witches, either." She eyed the way Harry had draped himself across the bench, his feet in Draco's lap, using Theo as a pillow. She had finally determined that Harry wasn't attempting to date Draco, but she was certain he was after a guy. Really, she hadn't put much effort into deciding who he was chasing after, planning to attend her first ball with Barty was far more entertaining. They had gone on several dates since they first started talking, and it felt like they were just getting closer.
She thought back to their last date. He had apparated them to Paris, and they had spent the day eating sinfully good pastries and visiting every secondhand bookshop they could find. It was more romantic than any date she could imagine, and she came home with a dozen new books as well as roses. The kiss at the end of the night curled her toes.
She leaned back into the padded backrest and felt the artificial warmth from the alcohol, as she observed her new friends. She never would have imagined that she would be sitting in the Slytherin compartment, gossiping with Pansy while drinking illicit alcohol, even as recently as last year. The war fizzling out had changed everything. It turned out that Hermione rather enjoyed breaking a few rules here and there. Now that there were no grand mysteries to solve, she was able to pay more attention to the rest of Hogwarts society, and discovered that underage alcohol rules were really more of a requirement that you keep it out of the corridors. (Harry had also turned into an excellent bartender, and what sort of friend doesn't foster someone's talents?) She had tried to resist, but Pansy refused to tutor her on anything interesting if they weren't both drinking. Pansy had had tutors in dark magic and rituals since before she first held a wand. Normally, she wouldn't have been willing to help a Gryffindor, but Barty had arranged everything. In exchange for tutoring in Transfiguration, as well as all the gossip from the tower, Pansy would help with almost any question Hermione had. Studying without wine and snacks was a bridge too far, however. The Aesthetic must be maintained.
Pansy turned her eyes back to Hermione, giving up staring at the way Theo's hand rested in Harry's unmanageable mop. "So, are you ready for the Ball? Where are you getting ready?"
Hermione sighed deeply and took a fortifying sip of her drink. "I'm staying with Harry at G--" Her voice cut off as the fidelus prevented her from naming the house. She rolled her eyes and rephrased, "the safe house we're staying at. I'd complain, but the library is top notch. Harry promised he'd show me where the really good books are over break." She glared at her friend and muttered, "Honestly, holding out on me for this long is just criminal!"
Pansy snickered and patted her shoulder commiseratingly. "He was probably worried you'd burn them if he'd shown you back in August." Hermione nodded begrudgingly. There was a chance she'd have ratted him out to Dumbledore if he'd shown her before she learned more about the Dark Arts. Now though? Just thinking about the renowned Black Library made her drool. "You know, if you want, you could come over to mine before the ball. A bunch of us are getting ready together. Cosmetic spells are easier to cast on each other than on yourself...."
Hermione pursed her lips in thought, then glanced at Harry and back to Pansy. "I bet I can sneak out early. Harry said that Sirius is going to help him get ready, as they're both going. I'd rather not have Sirius helping me get ready, though." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "He can't stop asking who I'm going with, and I just don't want to listen to him."
Harry chortled, turning to face her more directly. "Oh that's not hard to fix, 'Mione! All you have to do is ask him about the collar you saw Remus buying. Then you run!"
Hermione buried her face in her hands, as she burned bright red. "HARRY!! No! I can't say that--" she cut herself off abruptly, then her eyes narrowed in thought as she looked up. "Wait, which one is wearing the---" She cut herself off again. "Harry, this is even worse than listening to him speculate on who we're taking to the Ball." She collapsed back against the bench seat, trying desperately to redirect her thoughts.
Pansy patted her shoulder. "You can't think too hard about what any of the Blacks are doing, it's just not worth the trauma."