AN: New chapter for the new year. Next one shouldn't take as long.

ooOoo

Hermione moved almost without conscious thought, joining the tide of Slytherins rising from their seats. She reached for her wand. She didn't have any particular spell in mind, but she couldn't just stand by and watch Draco take enemy fire. Even if she didn't feel some personal responsibility for Draco's aggressive strategy, she would still feel compelled to stick up for a fellow Slytherin.

As it happened, none of the Slytherins needed to intervene. Only a few spells had hit the field around Draco before there was a flash of fire that faded to reveal Professor Dumbledore standing at the foot of the Gryffindor stands. A pair of spells that had been launched before his appearance splashed against an invisible barrier between the stands and the field, but Dumbledore didn't bother to spare them a glance. His disapproving gaze was fixed on his students and when he spoke his voice carried easily across the pitch.

"I am very disappointed in you," he said, then paused.

Hermione could see Draco pulling faces at the Gryffindors from behind Dumbledore's back, but none of them dared to respond with the weight of the headmaster's gaze on them.

"Professor McGonagall and I will need some time to determine how best to impart the importance of sportsmanship," he continued, "but for now I suppose we must be satisfied with the removal of temptation. Professor Snape, if you please."

Hermione suddenly became aware of the keen gaze that her own head of house was directing toward his students. She moved her hand away from her wand and smoothed out her robes. All around students were engaged in similar actions so as to dispell the image of imminent violence they had been presenting only a moment ago. If Professor Snape was amused, he didn't show it. Instead he made a sharp gesture and led them out of the stands.

The walk back to the castle was unusually subdued for a victorious House, but the somber mood didn't last long. Once they were back in the common room and Snape was safely away it didn't take long for a party to break out. Hermione avoided the more enthusiastic knots of celebration, but she did accept one of the butterbeers being passed around. She nursed her drink as she sat among her friends on one of the common room's many out of the way couches.

They were engaged in a good-natured debate on Slytherin's chances at the Quidditch Cup-Hermione and Daphne didn't see any reason their house couldn't win it all, while Blaise and Millie didn't like their chances against Hufflepuff's seeker-but fell silent with the rest of the house when the entrance to the common room opened to reveal the victorious team. Sam Evers entered first, as was his right as captain.

"Up Slytherin!"

He called out to the room as a whole and the whole room responded. The noise from the cheering and foot stomping was a physical thing. Hermione thought that Professor Snape must surely be able to hear it, wherever he might be in the dungeons. Still, none of the prefects looked bothered at all, so she did her best to relax and enjoy the moment.

Evers reached back and pulled Draco forward to stand beside him. "How about Draco? The first seeker to beat Harry Potter!"

Draco looked around the room. He seemed oddly nervous. When his eyes locked on hers Hermione realized he was looking for her approval. She almost frowned at the very idea that she would be unhappy at the day's events. She didn't want Harry to be in danger. That didn't mean she wanted him running roughshod over Slytherin on the Quidditch pitch.

She raised her butterbeer in salute. Draco broke into a grin before following suit and raising his arms in triumph, prompting another explosive round of celebration.

ooOoo

Hermione, along with the rest of Slytherin House, was rather groggy the next morning. She slept in later than usual and trickled into the Great Hall with her classmates towards the end of the allotted time for breakfast. They all perked up quickly, though, when the latest Hogwarts rumor made its way to their table. The entrance to the Gryffindor common room had been rather badly damaged by an attack led by, the story went, Sirius Black.

Hermione's friends were immediately abuzz with conversation, speculating about Black's intentions and likely next plan of attack. She listened in but didn't contribute, instead focusing on filling her plate and enjoying her breakfast. After a few moments her friends fell silent, and Hermione looked up to see that their eyes were on her.

"What?"

"You're taking this rather well, all things considered," Blaise said.

"Last year a basilisk was stalking the castle hunting for muggleborn students," Hermione replied. "A single human criminal doesn't really rate after that."

Hermione fully intended to be careful about making her way around the castle. Black was a killer and she had no desire to become collateral damage in his rampage. However, the plain fact was that he was clearly obsessed with Harry Potter. She would wish Harry well in his efforts to survive another crazy year at Hogwarts, but it wasn't her job to keep the Boy-Who-Lived alive. The Hogwarts staff were capable of much more sophisticated magic than she could manage and this year they knew exactly what they were facing. The dementors alone would be a formidable opponent for Black, and for that matter Harry himself had done a pretty good job keeping himself alive with nothing but a sword in his hand and a giant basilisk chasing him down.

Hermione had every intention of avoiding this year's insanity as best she could. She took a moment to spear a piece of bacon on her fork, taking a bite off of the end and savoring the flavor.

"Besides, after an attack on his precious Gryffindors I'm sure Dumbledore will pull out all the stops."

That persuaded her friends to drop the issue for the moment as their questions for her dissolved into a general round of complaints about Dumbledore's favoritism. As it happened, Hermione's prediction proved correct: students were instructed to move to and from classes in large groups, and outside of classes they were strictly forbidden from entering the corridors unless accompanied by a prefect.

Much to Hermione's dismay, these rules turbocharged the Hogwarts rumor mill instead of shutting it down. Being kept in close proximity with each other encouraged students to spend their time talking. The hot topic of the day was of course Sirius Black's attack, and the average Hogwarts student never let a lack of facts get in the way of developing an entertaining theory. By the time curfew rolled around half of Slytherin was convinced that Harry Potter was secretly Voldemort's love child and Black was at Hogwarts to whisk him away to be raised as a proper heir to the Dark Lord. The other half held to a theory that Hermione was pretty sure was biologically impossible, even with magic. When Professor Snape called the house to a meeting in the common room Hermione was one of the first ones there thanks to her eager anticipation of seeing the ridiculous rumors crushed.

Professor Snape stood silently at the front of the room. He fixed his attention briefly on each student as they arrived. As always, Hermione felt a vague sense of unease and guilt under his scrutiny, even though she was sure she hadn't done anything to deserve it. Though more and more students packed into the common room, none of them engaged in any of the usual chit chat, and the room remained silent other than the sounds of uncomfortable fidgeting.

"In light of recent events," Professor Snape began, easily heard despite speaking at his usual conversational level, "we will be revising the school's internal security. The initial measures should be complete by tomorrow. Tonight we will gather all students together to sleep in the Great Hall."

Professor Snape gave her a searching look, and Hermione realized she had raised her hand without thinking about it. She her cheeks redden slightly as the students who had started to move instead stopped to look at her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

She counted herself lucky that he sounded more amused than upset.

"I'm sorry, sir, but isn't Sirius Black out for revenge against Harry Potter? I don't see why all the rest of us should be rousted out of our dorms if he's the only one in danger."

"The Headmaster believes that in matters of personal safety it's better safe than sorry," Professor Snape replied. He sounded slightly disappointed, and Hermione felt a brief pang of shame at prompting such a response from a teacher. "Sirius Black is unpredictable. His family had very strong views regarding blood purity, and there's no telling what he might get up to while waiting for his chance to strike at Potter."

Hermione nodded to show her understanding and moved with the rest of her house mates to follow Professor Snape out to the great hall. Under the professor's supervision they made for a rather orderly group, with none of the rough housing or chatter that usually would have occurred. Along the way, Hermione started to wonder if she was taking this too lightly.

A murderer was loose in the school. She felt like it was the kind of thing that would have sent her into a panic before she came to Hogwarts. And if she had gone to a muggle school instead of Hogwarts and faced a similar situation, she couldn't imagine staying in school through such a crisis. But of course she had left her muggle education behind and spent the last two years in Hogwarts, and perhaps as a result she wasn't particularly put out by the day's events.

Part of it was that danger in Hogwarts seemed to follow a certain quirky sense of logic. Last year, muggleborns were in danger. This year, it seemed to be Harry Potter. Despite Snape's speculation to the contrary, Hermione didn't see any goal one of Voldemort's followers would prize above the death of the Boy Who Lived. So she didn't feel like a target. And even the most deranged wizard paled beside the threat posed by a basilisk moving through the walls of the castle itself.

Hermione also had much more confidence in her ability to protect herself than she ever did as a muggle. She didn't consider herself a violent person, but she had certainly grown familiar with the use of magical violence to achieve her aims. She chewed her lip briefly as she wondered if she ought to talk about that with somebody. She didn't think her parents would understand. She could just imagine the cryptic advice she would no doubt receive from Professor Snape and felt little desire to go to the trouble of actually talking to the man. The teachers that weren't close to Slytherin could hardly be expected to help her find a better way to navigate the house's social dynamics.

It was a puzzle that Hermione was still worrying away at when they reached the Great Hall. Professor Snape left them to find their own way as he moved up to the staff table, joining the rest of the faculty that was already there waiting. There was an obvious section of the Hall marked off for each house, but for the moment students were free to mingle. The Slytherins started to spread out, although the bulk of them were fairly close together when they ran into a big group of Gryffindors.

Hermione didn't quite catch how it started. She did hear one of the older Slytherin girls comment that it was a shame Potter was the only Gryffindor who knew how to handle his broomstick. Then one of the Weasley twins was going for his wand, and then Professor McGonagall was there. Hermione was caught on the periphery of the resulting lecture, feeling slightly offended to be catching criticism when she hadn't done anything wrong. Nobody lost any points, though, and the students were all quickly ushered off to their own houses' sleeping areas, with professors patrolling the boundaries.

Hermione's bedroll was comfortable enough-certainly more pleasant than she had enjoyed the one time her father had convinced the rest of the family to take a camping trip-but Hermione found herself too full of energy to fall asleep. Instead she turned to Blaise and asked the question she had been avoiding all day.

"What's so bad about Black, anyways?"

The torches around the Hall had been extinguished. The only illumination came from the full moon as portrayed by the enchanted ceiling. The dim light gave an eerie cast to Blaise's teasing smile.

"Professor Snape spark your interest?"

Hermione aimed a half-hearted swat at Blaise's shoulder, missing as he leaned back away from her. She gave him an irritated glare.

"Come on, spill."

"All right, all right," Blaise said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He paused, gathering his thoughts. "They called him the Dark Lord's mad dog."

The statement hung ominously in the air for a moment.

"Why?"

The question came not from Hermione, but from the darkness surrounding them. Looking around, Hermione saw that their conversation had drawn the interest of most of the younger Slytherins. They were edging closer to better hear Blaise, although they were all giving her a wide berth.

Blaise looked around for a moment, clearly pleased at having an audience, but fixed his attention back on Hermione before he continued.

"The first thing you have to understand is that his family is as dark as they come," Blaise said. He paused, before holding his hands out as he shrugged. "I mean, everybody has that one aunt or uncle that's a little too fond of muggle baiting... the whole Black family was like that."

"I heard they still put their elves' heads up on the wall when they died."

Blaise turned his head and Hermione followed his gaze to see Theo Nott, the boy who had spoken up, wearing the expression of somebody who had just shared a terrible secret. Hermione pictured the trophies the she had seen mounted on the wall when she had visited Neville and imagined the animal heads replaced with the horrible bug-eyed stare of a row of house elves... she shuddered. Coming back to herself, she saw that Blaise looked a bit queasy as well before he shook himself and regained his normal air of composure.

"Anyways, Sirius seemed like a different sort. Went into Gryffindor, had a bunch of proper upstanding friends, even joined the Aurors. It was all nonsense, of course," Blaise said, waving a hand dismissively. "They found out later, when they went through the records, there were nights he should have been on duty but his whereabouts couldn't be accounted for... always on nights when the Dark Lord was making his more spectacular attacks. That wasn't how they caught him, though."

Hermione found herself mirroring Blaise as he leaned forward.

"Potter's parents did a lot of fighting against the Dark Lord. When they had a kid they decided to lay low for a while. They went off into hiding and they used an old piece of magic that protected them as long as they left themselves vulnerable to betrayal."

Hermione could see where this was going. "Why use a spell like that?"

"There's no such thing as a perfect defense," Blaise said, shrugging. "The best you can do is put all of the flaws in one spot. The spell they used provided tremendous protection in exchange for a whacking great flaw. You've probably guessed who they chose to trust: their old friend Sirius Black."

A chorus of subdued groans echoed out at the pronouncement.

"He turned the secret over to the Dark Lord straight away, of course. You know where that lead. But that's not the end of the story," Blaise said. "You see, now that his betrayal was out in the open, Black didn't have to hide who he was. And he decided it was time to track down his old friends and show them just what he thought of them."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, morbidly fascinated.

"When the aurors caught up with him he was howling with laughter... the only thing left of the man he had been chasing was a finger."

Hermione found herself shaken at the idea that somebody capable of such savage behavior could be wandering the halls of Hogwarts. It was one thing to think of some kind of mastermind putting together a plan to have a go at Harry Potter. Frightening, certainly, but also somewhat removed... and Black was operating at a severe disadvantage in taking on Dumbledore in Hogwarts when the Headmaster knew he was coming. A madman, though, lashing out at anybody that he thought was a worthy target of his anger, that provided a more visceral threat.

She also wondered how Harry was taking this whole thing. She had always thought of his tragic past as a sort of hazy thing, distant history involving people who were long dead. To discover that the person responsible for the death of his parents was still alive and actively seeking him out made their deaths feel more real somehow.

"Do you think Harry will try to track him down? To avenge his parents, I mean."

"He's a fool if he does," Blaise said, shaking his head. "Black didn't rise so high in the Dark Lord's esteem by playing Exploding Snap."

"You don't think... well, are we in danger?"

"We should be fine as long as we don't do anything foolish," Blaise replied. "The Dark Lord's mad dog decided to challenge Dumbledore on his home turf... it's only a matter of time before he's put down."

ooOoo

The Slytherin section of the dungeons held more than the common room and dormitories. A small hallway opposite the path to the dorms led to a series of private rooms. Hermione didn't know what the rooms had originally been intended to be. She was also rather vague as to their current use. The older Slytherins had made it clear to the younger students that if they didn't know what a room was for they could bloody well stay out of it until they were invited, and that was that.

Her position as a sort of assistant prefect had led her to be told the location of the room that had been claimed as the prefect's lounge. That knowledge had come along with the clear message that she was in no way invited to hang out in the lounge during her free time; rather, it was to be used when she needed to get in touch with a prefect. Standing in front of the nondescript but nonetheless intimidating door, Hermione repeated her message to herself. She was hear to find Glenys Dibble. It was by no means a social call. She was well within her rights to do what she was doing.

Deciding she was as convinced as she was ever going to be, Hermione straightened her shoulders and opened the door. She entered to find a room that looked disappointingly ordinary. There were a few tattered Quidditch posters on the wall, a Slytherin scarf pinned up above the window, and a set of shabby if comfortable looking arm chairs gathered around a small fireplace. Glenys was seated in front of the fire. She had looked up from her book at the sound of the door opening and was examining Hermione with a neutral expression.

"What have those brats done now, Granger?"

"Nothing, nothing," Hermione said, then paused to take a deep breath. "I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

"You can ask."

"It's just, well, I was thinking about what Professor Snape said about how Black could attack any of us at any time and, you know, we'd have to defend ourselves and," Hermione said, before forcing herself to get to the heart of the matter. "I was hoping you could give me some tips."

She had been stewing over Professor Snape's comments, and not just because she wasn't used to being corrected in front of a group. Part of the reason she hadn't been too worried was that she had a sense of confidence in her own skills... but how well founded was that confidence, really? Gilderoy Lockhart had by his own account been a lousy wizard and she'd needed a fair bit of luck to defeat him. She didn't know how she would fare against a real opponent like Sirius Black.

"A tip? If you see Black, run away," Glenys said. "It's what I'd do. I certainly can't teach you how to beat him."

"I know, I know. I'm not planning to challenge him to a duel," Hermione said. "I just want to feel like I've done everything I can to prepare just in case, you know?"

Hermione could see the negative response forming on Glenys's face, and rushed to speak before the other girl could shut her down. "Professor Lupin has been teaching us about nothing but dangerous creatures all year long. The dueling club shut down after Lockhart, well... I just can't stand to spend a whole year and not learn anything new. I hate feeling like I'm standing in place."

"And you want me to help you along in my copious free time?" Glenys asked.

"You have more free time than you would if I weren't taking care of half your duties," Hermione replied. She was a little worried about sassing Glenys back-after all, the other girl was a real prefect while Hermione had no official status-but relaxed when Glenys's only response was an honest laugh.

"Fair enough," she said, after taking the time to collect herself. "I'll admit I'm a little curious to see what you can do. There were some interesting rumors floating around after the dueling championship last year."

Hermione smiled. The two of them arranged to meet the next evening. They would be using an abandoned classroom that Hermione suspected saw quite a bit of use from the older Slytherin students. With the logistics sorted out Hermione excused herself from the room and left with a spring in her step, well pleased with her first venture into the prefect's lounge.

She was feeling much less pleased with herself the next day. Standing opposite Glenys with wand in hand ready to do violence was a nervous place to be. Hermione hadn't picked her out of a hat when deciding who to approach for extra lessons. While Glenys hadn't won the end of year dueling tournament in her age group, her loss to the eventual champion Cedric Diggory was much harder fought than any of his other matches. She was living up to that reputation already in their preparation, her normally expressive face schooled into a neutral look of evaluation.

"Go on, then," Glenys said, making a small come-hither gesture. "Show me what you've got."

Hermione gathered herself and focused before bringing her wand to bear. "Stupefy!"

A jet of red light shot towards her target. At the same instant she saw a protective shimmer appear between herself and her opponent. The stunner hit the shield and ricocheted away. Hermione's vision was filled with red for an instant before everything went black.

Hermione jolted into a half sit-up as the unpleasant sensation of magical awakening coursed through her system. Her eyes jerked around the room for a moment before settling in on the Glenys's face. The other girl was looking down at her with that same neutral expression, though the faint shadow of a triumphant grin was clearly tugging at the corners of her lips. Hermione groaned and rubbed the back of her head where a sore spot was developing, no doubt as a result of being knocked down by her own spell.

"The stunner is dead useful," Glenys said. "It ends fights and it will crash right through a lot of people's shield charms."

The other girl paused, and Hermione felt her eyes narrow a little bit at the showboating. "But..."

"If you run into somebody who knows what they're doing it'll bounce right off," Glenys said. "Worse, it bounces in a fairly predictable way."

"So what should I use that's better?" Hermione asked. She began clambering to her feet, pausing for a moment to retrieve her wand from where she had dropped it. She looked up to see Glenys shaking her head.

"It's not about better or worse. Have you ever really thought about why there are so many different jinxes and hexes?"

Hermione shook her head. "I figured wizards just kept getting bored with what they had and wanted to try something new."

"Well, that was probably some of it," Glenys said. "But, look... is rock any better than paper or scissors?"

"No, they're the same," Hermione said, before the penny dropped. "But if you always went with rock you'd lose every time."

Hermione wasn't the only person who could do research on her opponent. Glenys had even mentioned that she had heard about her duel with Harry. Apparently she had researched further and determined that Hermione always used the same spell to attack. With that done, she just had to be prepared to counter that specific spell.

Hermione had been thinking of dueling like any other academic subject. She had done her best to learn how to cast the best offensive spell that she could and the best defensive spell that she could, and then put in the time to learn to cast them as well as possible. In a duel she expected to match her defense against her opponent's offense, and vice versa, with the best spellcaster coming out on top. Glenys was suggesting that dueling was more like a game. Just as there was no one best place to take a shot on a soccer pitch there was no one spell that was tops for all occasions.

Hermione liked to think that she could improvise when she had to. She had come up with the idea of getting past Lockhart's protections by using the summoning charm to pull a weapon towards him from behind, after all. But she had never really planned to go into a duel and try anything tricky. She had succeeded through her overwhelming ability to cast spells that her peers couldn't manage. That wasn't something she could expect to rely on forever or really at all against older opponents.

Glenys smiled at Hermione's answer. "Exactly. I think what will really help you is learning how to mix things up. Here, cast a shield."

Somewhat nervous, Hermione complied. She focused the protection of the spell in a disk guided by her off arm before bringing her arm around protectively. Glenys made a short gesture with her wand.

"Inpuls!"

A small crackling ball of yellow light shot off the end of her wand. Hermione had only an instant to admire it before it crashed against her shield. Instead of bouncing off the light seemed to detonate. Then a spike of agony flared up in the part of her mind focused on keeping the shield going, like an ice pick to the temple. Even as she fought through the pain she saw a few of the streaks of light wrap around the shield to touch her arm. The jolt of an electric shock forced her hand closed and finished the job of destroying her concentration, causing her shield to drop.

Hermione curled over her arm protectively for a moment. She clenched and unclenched her fist until the range of motion started to feel normal. When she had gathered herself she looked up and glared at Glenys.

"That hurt."

Glenys smiled. "That's the idea."

Hermione huffed in annoyance. "Fine, then. How do you block a spell like that?"

"Not interested in learning how to cast it yourself?"

"I have been paying attention," Hermione replied, a little hurt. Seeing the skeptical expression on Glenys's face, she brought her wand to bear and made a little buttonhook and jab gesture. "Inpuls!"

The little ball of electricity wasn't quite as bright as the one she had been hit with, but Hermione still smiled at the successful casting of the spell. The time that she had put in learning the dictionary of standard wand motions had not only made it easier for her to replicate the proper motions, but also helped her to recognize them when they were used. The attack hit a shield before it struck Glenys, and Hermione watched with interest as the electricity release rushed harmlessly down into the ground. The electricity cleared up to show Glenys looking at her a little wide-eyed. The moment passed and the prefect gathered herself and assumed her usual carefree posture.

"I suppose teaching you won't be as much of a slog as I thought. All right, the trick is..."

Several hours later it was an energized if slightly disheveled Hermione Granger that returned to the Slytherin dorms. None of her friends were out in the common room waiting for her. She looked around and saw that Draco had broken off the conversation he was sharing with other members of the Quidditch team and had started to rise, his attention fixed on her. Hermione waved at him to stay where he was and saw out of the corner of her eye that he was sitting back down as she strode off toward the dorms.

"Daphne. Millie."

The girls in question looked up from their homework. Millie took Hermione's appearance in stride. Daphne jumped out of her seat like she'd been shocked and bustled over to where Hermione stood in the doorway. Licking her thumb, she gently brought it forward and rubbed at the skin under Hermione's right eye. She brought her thumb back and examined the blackened digit for a moment before looking back up and meeting Hermione's gaze.

"What happened to you?"

"In a minute," Hermione said, shooing the other girl out of her personal space. "Come with me."

The other two trailed behind her as she turned and headed for the boys' dormitory. The magic in the castle that prevented boys from visiting the girls' dorms was strictly one way, and Hermione experienced no impediment as she threw open the door to the third-year boys' sleeping quarters. She took in the room with a glance-it was much like the girls', but with more quidditch posters-before focusing on its inhabitant. Blaise Zabini was stretched out on his bed, a book perched on his lap. He had looked up when the door opened, a surprised smile breaking out on his face when he saw who was visiting.

"Ladies," Blaise said, plucking a bookmark off the nightstand and carefully inserting it in his book before swiveling his body to perch on the edge of the bed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I've just-hey!" Hermione said, interrupted by a sharp tug on her hair. Glancing over, she saw that Daphne had produced a comb from somewhere and was working her way through the hair on Hermione's right side. It was in a frightful state, even by Hermione's standards.

"You can't just leave this kind of thing," Daphne protested, continuing with her work.

"Fine," Hermione said. "As I was saying, I've just come from a lesson on dueling from Glenys Dibble."

"The crazy prefect?"

"The prefect, yes."

Blaise gave her an uncertain look before motioning for her to continue.

"She's shown me there's so much more to dueling than I ever knew! It's fascinating stuff, really,"

Daphne kept working on Hermione's hair, while her other friends seemed a little wary but willing to hear her out.

"She's agreed to give me another lesson after Christmas hols, but we can do so much to practice beforehand. We can find an abandoned classroom and start tomorrow,"

Millie started to say something, but caught herself and looked to Blaise instead. Hermione watched the byplay finish with Blaise meeting Daphne's eyes over her shoulder before heaving a theatrical sigh.

"Or... we could not do that," he said.

"What?"

"Frankly Hermione, that sounds a little dangerous. And like a lot of work," Blaise said, flashing her a quick grin. "Have I ever done anything to give you the impression that I enjoy hard work?"

Hermione glared at him. "You've always worked hard on our assignments."

"Well, if it can't be avoided, it's best to get things over with," Blaise conceded. "But when work can be avoided..."

Hermione growled, crossing her arms in irritation. The overall effect was somewhat diminished by her flinch as Daphne picked another snag out of her hair.

"But if we put in the effort we'll be so much better off if Black shows up!"

"If Black shows up, the best thing to do is to run the other way," Blaise said. A touch of sadness showed on his face. "Hermione, we're your friends. Whatever you want to do, we'll support you. But that doesn't mean we're always going to be interested in the same things."

For just a moment, Hermione's hand itched with the need to go for her wand. She'd show Blaise just what he was missing out on with his lazy approach to magic. A single application of Dibble's shock spell ought to be fairly persuasive.

Instead she clenched her hand into a fist and shook her head. It was an almost physical sensation, pushing down that violent urge. Even her best efforts couldn't contain a disdainful snort.

"Fine."

Even in Slytherin, browbeating friends into duels was a bit beyond the pale. She'd just have to look elsewhere for a practice partner.

ooOoo

Hermione's hair trailed behind her, whipped to and fro in the slip stream she was leaving behind. Her feet appeared to be firmly braced on thin air as she trailed along behind a broom ridden by a familiar figure in Gryffindor robes. Harry was on lookout for the snitch, while Hermione was discovering that maneuvers that may look simple from the stands could still involve an altogether reckless level of speed and agility when seen up close. The magic of the Penseive prevented her eyes from tearing up in the wind, allowing for a clear view of every hairpin turn.

She wasn't alone in the memory, of course. Professor Snape stood next to her, his robes and hair unaffected by the environment. He wore his usual disinterested expression on his face, although his shoulders were hunched forward a bit, betraying just a hint of anticipation. Harry stood on his other side, looking as though he were stuck in a bad memory, which, to be fair, he was.

It was oddly peaceful. Hermione could look down and see the controlled chaos that was the rest of the Quidditch match. She could remember being part of the crowd cheering on her House from down below. Up here, though, the crowd noise was faint and easily drowned out by the howling wind created by their passage. The whole world narrowed down to one boy, his broom, and the search for the snitch.

Until the whole thing came to a crashing halt. Even having expected it, Hermione was taken by surprise as Draco Malfoy came streaking in, his leg catching Harry's shoulder with a sickening crunch. The memory around them went topsy-turvy as Harry briefly spun out of control. The figure on the broom finally gathered himself, steadying his flight and looking around in shock. A moment later there was a flash and the three of them stood in the potions classroom.

Hermione looked over at Harry in sympathy. He was rubbing his shoulder in remembered pain. She had known he was roughed up during the Quidditch match, but it was an entirely different matter to see it up close. She glanced up at Professor Snape, who looked decidedly unmoved by the experience.

"Satisfactory," Professor Snape said, "But your precision still needs work, Potter."

Harry glared up at the professor, but managed to hold his tongue. Snape was clearly displeased by even this display of irritation and leaned forward, his gaze boring into Harry's.

"Reconstructing memories is delicate work. As much as he indulges you, the headmaster won't even let you make the attempt until I agree that you are ready. If you've any hope of that happening this year then you had best apply yourself and not waste any energy on sulking. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry said, then, after a few tense seconds, "... sir."

"Good," Snape replied, straightening up.

Snape instructed Harry to continue working with the Pensieve, directing him to focus on developing the ability to begin and end his recorded memories precisely on time. That done, the professor led Hermione to the front of the room, seating himself behind his desk. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a stack of playing cards. Setting them on the desk, he tapped them with his wand, causing them to begin to shuffle themselves. Hermione watched the process with some interest until Professor Snape spoke, drawing her attention.

"Are you prepared for a practical exercise?"

Professor Snape always had an intense air about him. In that moment, looming over her in the dim light, he was downright intimidating. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he would soon be trying to read her mind. Hermione felt her mouth go dry and limited her response to a simple nod.

"Very well."

Snape tapped the deck of cards, which settled into a neat pile on the desk. Without any further action on his part the top card shot off the deck and slid across the table, settling to a stop directly in front of Hermione.

Professor Snape had already instructed them as to the nature of legilimency. The simplest and most powerful method was through the use of a spell. The caster forcibly asserted control over the target's mind and directed their combined attention to whatever memory the caster wanted to see. The use of magic to supplement the caster's strength of will packed quite a wallop. On the other hand, the direct use of a hostile spell was not very subtle, and was the kind of thing that typically provoked a violent response.

More insidious was the use that a master legilimens could make of simple eye contact. Such a tenuous connection only allowed them to nudge the target's mind, rather than exerting direct control. However, access to somebody's stream of thought could be quite valuable even without any sort of control, and the victim might well never even realize what had happened.

For today's exercise Hermione as the defender had all of the advantages. She knew the attack was coming, and Professor Snape would not be using a spell to augment his mental probe. Despite that she felt anything but confident as she bent back the card in front of her to reveal the four of clubs. Hermione kept her gaze down at the table for a moment to gather her nerve before looking up.

Professor Snape made no pretense about what he was doing, staring into her eyes as if he could see straight through her. In a sense, thanks to magic, he could. Hermione felt very self-conscious about the idea of her train of thought being subject to critique. She tried to consider what she would usually be thinking about in this kind of situation. She wasn't sure, but she knew it was important that she not think about the four of clubs.

The very instant that the image of the card crossed her mind's eye she saw Professor Snape react, arching an eyebrow before naming the card. He tapped the deck of cards with his wand, sending another card her way. Hermione flushed slightly in frustration before looking at the card and starting all over again.

They completed five more iterations of the exercise, each attempt as unsuccessful as her first. Finally, Hermione looked down and thought hard about her strategy. Snape snorted slightly but otherwise didn't comment on the delay as she tried to figure out what she was doing wrong. Finally deciding on a new course of action, she briefly flipping the face of the card into view. She had a vague impression of a full field of diamonds before she turned the card back down.

Hermione pictured a card full of hearts as vividly as she could. At the same time, she ran through a few numbers in her head over and over again. Three, seven, five, four... when she wasn't sure any longer just which card she had seen she raised her head to meet Professor Snape's eyes. He met her gaze evenly for a moment before breaking into a wry smile.

"For full marks, Miss Granger, you'll have to tell me which card that is."

Hermione glared down at the card as if she could see through the back if she looked at it hard enough. "I... I'm not sure."

"Lying to yourself is often tempting, but it's rarely a good idea."

With that, Snape tapped on the deck once more, sending another card her way without any further fanfare. Hermione bent it back to see the five of spades looking back at her. She stared at it without really seeing it while she tried to devise a new strategy. She could keep her professor from digging up knowledge by keeping the knowledge out of her mind, but that route had been forbidden. What she needed was some way to prevent a stray thought from betraying the truth. Actively trying not to think of her card hadn't gotten her anywhere. Still, she would have to do something proactive to keep her mind from wandering.

She snapped the card back down to the table when a new approach came to mind. She kept her eyes down on the table as she did her best to corral her thoughts. Twice two was four. Twice four was eight. Twice eight, sixteen. She didn't look up until she reached two hundred and fifty-six, ruthlessly quashing the memory of her father mentioning the fighting two to the eighths in favor of focusing on her sums.

Hermione was barely conscious of meeting Professor Snape's eyes as she kept her energy directed at visualizing a blackboard in her mind. As she was trying to calculate twice two-thousand and forty eight, she noticed a certain vague curiosity about what card she had drawn form itself in her mind. She found it easy enough to put the curiosity to the side and make sure that she carried the one. She had just reached eight-thousand one hundred and ninety-two when Snape gave her a nod.

"Your card?" he asked, with the air of somebody expecting to hear the correct answer.

"Five of spades," she replied, before flipping over her card to reveal exactly that.

"I believe that's enough for the day," Professor Snape said, before turning his head. "Potter, you can stop pretending to work and pack things in as well."

Harry gave a start but for once managed to hold back from antagonizing the professor. Hermione watched as he dipped his wand into the pensieve and raised it to his temple, scooping out a silvery mist that neatly transferred itself into his head. That done, he and Hermione naturally fell into step as they left the classroom. The two of them navigated the dimly lit hallways in a companionable silence until they reached the point where they usually parted ways. Hermione turned and was about to say goodbye when she saw Ron Weasley approaching.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Not yet," Harry said. He sounded a little sheepish.

"What is it this time?" Hermione asked. Things had turned out pretty well in the end the last time the two Gryffindor boys had asked her for a favor, but she hardly wanted to make such things a habit.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. Hermione couldn't follow exactly what they were communicating to each other, but after a moment they seemed to come to a resolution and Ron prepared to speak.

"You're riding herd on Malfoy this year, yeah?"

Hermione wouldn't have put it quite that way, but she didn't feel like quibbling over the details. "What's he done now?"

"What's he..." Ron trailed off, sputtering, then gathered himself. "He's made a mockery of the game of Quidditch, that's what."

Hermione blinked. Then she took a closer look. Ron was still wearing the same expression of righteous outrage.

"Helping Slytherin win, you mean?"

"Helping Slytherin cheat, more like."

"I rather think Madame Hooch should be the judge of that," Hermione said, sniffing. "You do realize that I want Slytherin to win, right?"

Sometimes Hermione wondered if Ron realized that people could be friendly with each other and still pull for different results on the Quidditch pitch. He didn't seem fazed at all at the reminder of her house loyalties.

"I thought you'd want to win the right way, is all."

"The right way is to score more points than the other side."

That set off a definite spark of anger in Ron's eyes.

"Come on, Hermione, they were mugging Harry out there."

Hermione sighed. He sounded like a bloody continental griping about an international soccer match. She thought about mentioning the comparison, but she didn't feel like taking the time to explain the intricacies of muggle sports this close to curfew. A glance over at Harry showed that at least he felt a little embarrassed that Ron was going on like this.

"It's a contact sport," Hermione finally replied. "Harry was the one getting hit and I don't hear him whinging about it."

For all that Harry didn't seem to be a fan of Ron's point, he obviously didn't appreciate being put on the spot. Rather than speak up in support of either side, he limited himself to a non-committal shrug.

"Look, I'm helping Draco be a bit less of a prat. But I'm not going to come down on him just because Slytherin aren't your own personal Chudley Cannons any more," Hermione said. "If you're that upset, go ask Dumbledore to give you more points. That's what usually happens when Gryffindor lose at anything, right?"

If Ron was incensed at the dig on his beloved Cannons, the last crack positively shattered the last of his temper. His face flushed red and Hermione had the sense that had she been a boy, he would have taken a swing at her. Instead he managed to keep his reply to an angry hiss.

"Fine then. I should have known that all you snakes are the same!"

With that he spun on his heel and marched off. Harry looked a little upset. He studied her for a long moment before shaking his head and walking off to rejoin his friend.

Hermione watched them go with a combination of irritation and frustration boiling in her gut. Was it really so horrible for Gryffindor to lose for once? And why was it her fault if they couldn't measure up on the pitch? Part of her wanted to chase the boys down and force them to admit that there was no logical support for their anger, but she took a deep breath and set it aside.

The whole thing should blow over soon, anyway.

ooOoo