Chapter 6: Words

The seventh and eighth year Hufflepuffs seemed receptive enough to the idea of a party in the Slytherin commons, but they also agreed not to invite Pansy Parkinson, who had become something of a pariah in the very few days it had been since the beginning of term. Ginny did not try to change their minds. She had not yet forgiven Pansy for trying to sell Harry out to Snape and the Carrows the previous year.

Before Hermione and Ginny departed the Hufflepuff commons, Ron paid the price for his sister getting doused with vinegar. The girls left him with persimmons tumbling out of his ears at regular intervals.

Determined to enjoy herself for a change and ignore the fact that Malfoy knew she was going to indulge in some rule-breaking that evening, Hermione trudged back upstairs to her dorm to freshen herself up for the party. On her way there, she sated her curiosity about where Malfoy had gone earlier, and peeked through the concave section of wall he had disappeared through. The hidden entrance opened around a tight corner and into a narrow little passage like a balcony. It was small, with minimal exposure to the elements. Hermione doubted that any but Ravenclaws even knew it was there. She certainly hadn't.

Feeling her discovery had been very anti-climatic, she chastised herself for her curiosity and ascended the spiral stair to the common room entrance. There, she came face-to-face with the ex-Slytherin himself. He was stuck outside Ravenclaw Tower in front of the eagle head door-knocker.

"Bloody hell, I don't know…"

"Malfoy?" Hermione queried, coming to a stop beside him. "Are you stuck on the riddle?"

He rolled his eyes at the sight of her. "Ah, wonderful. Here is the Gryffindor brainiac to deliver salvation. Go on then, Granger… save the day. It's the most imbecilic poem I've ever heard of."

Ignoring his irritability, she turned to the bronze door-knocker. Tilting her head, she prompted, "Well?"

The guardian recited, "We hurt without moving. We poison without touching. We bear the truth and the lies. We are not to be judged by our size."

Hermione shifted uneasily where she stood, adjusting her heavy bag on her shoulder. "I'm not surprised you can't get that one."

Gazing disdainfully down the end of his nose at her, Malfoy took a step forward so he could get right into her personal space and make himself intimidating. This was not difficult, as he had at least six inches on her in the height department. When he was this close, Hermione noted that his eyes had a slight azure tinge, rather than being just gray like she had always assumed they were. He sneered, "No need to rub it in my face, professor."

Hermione felt uncomfortable that his face was close enough to hers for her to be quibbling over the exact shade of his irises. She tilted her chin up defiantly, meeting his haughty gaze with her own measure of scorn. She took note of the proud curve of his lips, with the divot in the center like a bow pulled taut for release.

"Break it down," she challenged. "'We hurt without moving… we poison without touching…'"

"I'm not interested in the logic, Granger. I'm interested in entering the bloody tower."

Hermione could feel his breath on her face. Refusing to be cowed by him, she retorted in her most annoyingly matter-of-fact voice, "You'll never learn if the answer is always handed to you. Try again. 'We bear the truth and the lies… we are not to be judged by our size.'"

"I don't know!" he pouted, wrenching himself away to stalk across the landing.

She sighed deeply, "I know you don't."

"Just what does that mean?" he demanded, eyes flashing.

"'Hurt without moving, poison without touching, bear truth and lies, not to be judged by size…'" she repeated. Then, turning to the guardian, she answered, "Words. Our words do all those things."

"Well reasoned," the guardian complimented as the door unlatched, opening inward.

Unmoving, Malfoy stood there a moment, digesting what she had said to him.

"I know you won't, but perhaps you'd benefit from thinking on that particular riddle," Hermione admonished, turning to enter.

Her foot slipped on the step and she had to throw her hands out to catch herself, her bookbag falling to the floor and splitting at the seam. Books, parchment, vials of ink and quills spilled across the landing. She expected to hit the stone floor hard and braced herself for it, but it never came.

Malfoy had grabbed her arm to prevent her falling. He pulled her back up by it.

"Let go," she requested frantically. His hand was still wrapped around her forearm.

He released her and she rubbed the spot where he had grabbed; it was directly on top of the scar Bellatrix had given her the previous May in Malfoy's own home, though covered consciously with her cardigan sleeve. It was likely he was unaware of this.

Malfoy reached for his wand and for a moment, Hermione irrationally thought he was going to hex her. Instead, he used it to repair her bag. The books she had checked out from the library that morning flew back into it along with the (mercifully still intact) ink vials and other supplies. Her school bag hovered for a moment before settling heavily onto her shoulder, good as new.

"I'm not very good with words, Granger," he informed her simply, then disappeared into the common room ahead of her.

Hermione stared at the place he had stood for a moment, the flash of his slate-gray eyes knifing through her mind. Maybe this was what McGonagall saw when she made him a prefect…?

She shook herself, rationalizing that there was no reason for her to be standing in front of the Ravenclaw guardian any longer. Taking care not to slip on the entry step this time, she entered and went straight for the eighth year girls' dormitory, keeping her head down just in case Malfoy was somewhere in the common room.

Their encounter had just been too weird. And what had he been doing on that hidden balcony earlier?

Throwing her repaired book-bag onto her four-poster, Hermione took note of the empty room with satisfaction and grabbed her hairbrush, heading for the small bathroom just off the dormitory.

Wet, splashing sounds interrupting by coughing and gagging met her on the other side of the door. Someone was being sick in the far toilet. Uncomfortable, Hermione timidly called, "Hello?"

A pause in the repugnant noises followed by a flush, signaled the end of the purge. The stall door banged open and Daphne Greengrass emerged, looking pale.

"Do you need help to the Hospital Wing?" Hermione queried, business-like despite that the former-Slytherin girl had never been anything but rude to her.

Daphne said nothing, but walked to the sink farthest from Hermione and began brushing her teeth. Miffed that she had not even got a response from her reluctant dorm-mate, Hermione acquiesced to the unspoken request that Daphne be left alone. She began her toilette as if the other girl was not there.

When Daphne had finished, she rinsed her mouth methodically and then turned to Hermione, "It's not fair."

"Oh, are we talking now?" she snapped out brusquely.

"I didn't know what to say."

Realization dawned. "You were purging on purpose."

"Yes," Daphne nodded.

"Why?"

"Look at me!" the girl cried, gesturing to her body. She was intimidatingly tall, probably almost six foot, but stocky as well. "No one wants to be with a tall girl! Especially not a fat, tall girl!"

Hermione was stunned into silence for the second time in less than half-an-hour, by a former snake acting distinctly un-Slytherin-like.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Daphne continued, misinterpreting Hermione's silence. "You're just the right height, and you're thin."

Feeling embarrassment creeping onto her cheeks, Hermione pointed at herself and announced, "Bookworm. Muggle-born. Remember? In some circles, neither of those are considered exactly desirable."

"At least you never were Slytherin," Daphne protested, some of the color returning to her sickly cheeks with the effort of their argument. "There's so much hatred toward us all after the war. We've had to stick together. Because of my House and my family, no one is ever going to love me if I'm not absolutely gorgeous. I can't do anything about my height… so I purge."

"Everything is in upheaval. There is still so much prejudice after the war. Now's your chance to show people you're not a scary Slytherin pureblood…"

"But I am a scary Slytherin pureblood!"

Hermione shook her head, "I'd bet there's more to you than that."

Daphne sighed deeply. Her stomach rumbled. She looked miserable. "It blows having no friends in this stupid roost."

Hermione recalled that Daphne had previously been a part of Pansy Parkinson's gang of Slytherin girls, often hanging around Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. "What about Malfoy and Zabini?"

"Oh, but they're boys," Daphne rolled her eyes. "Do you have any idea how annoying boys are to hang out with all the time?"

Hermione merely raised an eyebrow at the other girl.

"Oh, right," she realized. "Potter and Weasley."

"You know, there are drawbacks to being Harry's friend, too. It's just a different set of prejudices."

Daphne snorted in disbelief.

"I'm serious! There's all kinds of unwanted attention," she expanded, thinking specifically of the press.

"Better to have too much attention than to be pointedly ignored," the other girl dissented.

Hermione disagreed, but did not say so. "You know, you could try being friends with the girls in our dorm. We aren't so bad and you never even gave us a chance."

"Being Slytherin post-war, though…"

"… doesn't have to be as bad as that," Hermione finished for her, pointing at the far toilet with her hairbrush.

Daphne paused for a long moment and began wringing her hands. Her stomach rumbled again. "I don't know what to say."

Hermione thought of McGonagall's goals toward inter-House unity and her own unexpected success in making new friends so far. In a small voice, she offered, "I'll be your friend."

"But you're Gryffindor… and a Mud-" Daphne began, catching herself just in time. She corrected, "Muggle-born."

"Yes," Hermione answered simply, because it was true.

"I don't even know how to be friends with someone like you."

Grinning, Hermione suggested, "I'd be willing to bet that the Sorting Hat didn't place you in Ravenclaw because you were bad at learning. We're all having a party in the Slytherin commons tonight. You should come."

"You're doing what?"

"Everyone wants to see the scary dungeons. It'll be fun."

She shook her head vigorously, looking like she might cry. "I'm not ready to go back down there. I spent my first night back comparing every little thing in Ravenclaw to everything I missed from Slytherin."

Hermione's grin disappeared; she knew that feeling precisely. Letting it go, she tried a different tactic. "Well, let's at least get you something to eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

Later that evening, as the Ravenclaws began readying themselves for the unauthorized party, Hermione insisted Daphne at least keep them company in their dormitory. At first, the other girls had some difficulty allowing her to shift into their clique - but after a few minutes of Daphne not insulting any of them, they took their cues from Hermione and began cautiously including her.

"Hair charm still holding up!" Lisa exulted, watching as Hermione pulled the top half of her hair back, allowing the rest to hang loosely.

Hermione smiled. "You're going to have to teach me that one."

"It looks great," Daphne complimented sincerely, a meager smile flickering briefly onto her face. She was belly-down on her four-poster, watching three of her dorm-mates prepare themselves for the party she was not attending.

"Padma agreed to look the other way for the evening when I told her where we were going," Sue mentioned, glancing toward the only empty bed of the five. Padma would not be attending either. "Head Girl and all that…"

"What's the Slytherin common room like, Daphne?" Lisa questioned. The former-Hufflepuff had accepted the girl's presence more quickly than Sue initially had.

"It's all underground and the walls are glass so you can view into the lake," Daphne detailed. "At night you can hear the water moving around you, lulling you to sleep. It's quite relaxing."

"I can't wait," Sue grinned.

"Are you girls ready?" Hermione queried, heading toward the door.

Looking amused, Daphne reclined back onto her bed and bid, "I hope you have fun."

"I can't believe we're doing this!" Lisa squeaked. The three girls descended Ravenclaw Tower and spilled out onto the fifth floor corridor. Lisa companionably linked her arms through those of her companions on either side of her. "Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be as happy in Ravenclaw as in Hufflepuff!"

"Aww, Lisa!" Sue cooed.

"Do either of you smell something… funny?" Hermione wondered, her nose twitching. It was a musty scent, like someone's dirty underground basement.

"Now that you mention it…"

"I think it's coming from the balcony," said Sue, gesturing to the very one which Hermione had explored earlier that day.

Peeking around the corner of the hidden alcove, the girls discovered Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini smoking cigarettes. If any of the boys were surprised at the sudden appearance of the group of Ravenclaw girls, their faces betrayed nothing.

"Well, well, look who it is!" Nott announced, waving to the three of them as he blew out a puff of smoke from his nostrils as well as his mouth. "One third of the Golden Trio and her replacement lackeys."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Not funny, Nott. Ten points from Gryffindor for smoking on school premises. Another ten from Ravenclaw from each of the other two of you, as well."

She would have loved to reprimand Malfoy further for partaking despite being a prefect, but refrained.

Zabini threw his spent cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. Malfoy exhaled a curl of smoke and looked anywhere but at Hermione. She, too, was determined not to make eye contact with him, still baffled by the earlier incident in front of the Ravenclaw guardian.

"Would've thought you'd have been glad we were doing something Muggle," Zabini suggested idly with the air of someone commenting on the weather to a stranger. His voice was unexpectedly soft, like the serrated edge of a feather.

Nott looked the girls up and down, grinning rakishly. "You ladies going somewhere? A party perhaps?"

"Didn't think you had it in you to leave your books behind, Granger. I'm impressed," Nott taunted, taking another long drag of his cigarette and purposefully blowing the smoke toward her.

"Why do you keep talking to me?" Hermione demanded, widening her stance and waving his smoke away. "It isn't as if we're friends… I don't like talking to you… a feeling I'm sure is mutual."

"Er, we'll go on ahead, Hermione, yeah?" Sue suggested, looking anxious to be away. Lisa was openly staring at the boys like they were a band of magically appearing selkies. "Catch up when you're through here…"

"Nonsense, ladies, you look like you could use an escort," Nott protested, tossing his cigarette down and stomping it the same way Zabini had. "Come on, Blaise. Let's show these two the way to the Slytherin commons…"

They were gone before Hermione even had a moment to register what had happened. She glanced at her one remaining companion, whose cigarette was tucked into his downturned lips. She watched as he slowly inhaled the foul-smelling smoke. When he exhaled, Hermione could not decide if he looked attractive or vile.

She blanched at her own thought. Attractive?

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Granger?" Malfoy queried softly.

She frowned at him. "I thought I asked you to put that out?"

Inhale. "Actually, all you did was take points for smoking on premises."

"Cigarettes are against the rules…"

Exhale. "I know."

"They are terrible for your health," she insisted.

"Again, I know."

"Don't you care that they're slowly killing you?" she demanded.

Inhale. "Not really."

Hermione stared at him. "But… why not?"

Exhale. Finished with the offending contraband, he ground the remainder out with the toe of his shoe. With a wave of his wand, he vanished the butts. "I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. Since that puts me at an impasse, I might as well just do it."

She opened her mouth to speak, but could not think of an appropriate response.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and stepped toward her along the narrow balcony area. "Are you going to let me pass?"

Silently, she stepped aside. Despite the fact that there was now plenty of space for him to go around, he stopped in front of her. Her breath hitched embarrassingly as she asked, "Yes?"

"'Hurt without moving, poison without touching, bear truth and lies, not to be judged by size…'" he murmured. Residual cigarette smoke from his clothes and on his breath began to make her eyes water. "I've been thinking about it."

Hopeful, she prompted, "And?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted you to know."

"Oh." She was almost disappointed, though she was unsure what she would have wanted him to say.

Hermione stiffened as Malfoy reached his hand out and captured some of her hair between his fingers. She had left it long halfway-down for the party, Lisa's charm still keeping it miraculously soft, straight, and shining.

"Huh," was all he said before his hand dropped.

For some reason, this simple gesture had rendered Hermione about as tongue-tied as a third-year Neville Longbottom being questioned by an irate Professor Snape. She was no longer interested in a party, or seeing her friends. All she could think about were the words 'I did think about it' and a pair of blue-gray eyes.

He was about to depart without another word, but sensing his imminent escape, she blurted out, "I don't understand."

Malfoy stopped, his back to her still. "What don't you understand, Granger?"

"Any of it."

He turned partially to look at her from the side, "That might be a first."

Then, because it was the question she really wanted answered, she asked, "I don't understand why you were put in Ravenclaw. Why weren't you re-sorted into Slytherin? Others were put into their old Houses. Why not you?"

He arched a pale eyebrow at her. "Because I asked not to be."

Hermione could only stare as Malfoy retreated without a word, his footsteps dying away slowly, like the cigarette smell and her preconceptions of him.