Chapter 7: Mischief Managed

The Slytherin dungeon had the aura of a mysterious shipwreck. It was partially under the Black Lake and lit by greenish lamps that lent the whole place a celadon haze. The armchairs interspersed around the common room were also green, though the many low-backed couches were made of black leather. The walls were decorated with dark wooden cupboards, almost as black as the sofas. On other sections of the walls were tapestries depicting the adventures of famous medieval Slytherins.

"The dormitories are behind the tapestries," Harry explained happily enough, brushing one aside to show Hermione the door, which was made of the same handsome, dark wood as the cupboards. He joked, "Slytherins apparently like to feel properly hidden in their little snake holes."

The enormous fireplace was made of black marble, streaked elegantly with long, white marble fingers. The glow it cast upon the surrounding seven or eight feet was somehow cold. Tall glass structures like showy aquariums acted as twin pillars within the common room, but these were filled inexplicably with skulls. The end effect was rather grand, if somewhat grim.

In other words, it was what Hermione had expected, though perhaps not in so much detail.

She swallowed heavily, her earlier jovial mood having been replaced only minutes ago by one of consternation from her run in with Malfoy. Licking her lips, she realized Harry was waiting for her to say something now that he had given her the tour. "It's… well… it's very different from Gryffindor Tower, isn't it?"

"Pretty much the exact opposite," Harry agreed, and the look in his eyes made Hermione think he was likely reflecting back on the welcoming warmth of their home for six years.

In Gryffindor Tower, the walls were decorated with scarlet tapestries that depicted witches, wizards and a variety of animals. A dominating hearth stretching over nine feet lit much of the almost-circular room. Nooks or alcoves in the common area were often filled with squashy, red armchairs, which seemed to beckon you to sink into one. The wide windows looked out onto the expansive Hogwarts grounds.

Hermione sighed longingly. "Do you think we'll ever see it again?"

"Come on now, Hermione," Harry chided, tweaking her nose familiarly. "You're at a party. Try to act like it, hey?"

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she allowed herself to be handed a drink. The Slytherin commons were filled with seventh- and eighth-year students from a variety of Houses, each clutching a cup and some already wobbling suspiciously or laughing loudly. The younger students all seemed to have been banished.

At the heart of a group of merry eighth years was Neville Longbottom, his once-nervous, round face transformed into a Hollywood version of his former self thanks to a late, highly productive puberty. Now, having been solidly established as the badass that had publicly severed the head from Lord Voldemort's own snake with the Sword of Gryffindor, Neville was the height of cool.

"Hermione!" he called, gesturing for her to join the group. Joining the throng, they swapped niceties for a few minutes, but she soon moved on in order to allow him more time to make new friends. She had always preferred to people-watch at parties, anyway.

She did not spend long in any one place. She saw that Lisa had joined up with a few of her fellow former-Hufflepuffs: Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Justin was in the midst of daring one of the girls - all three being single - to walk up and kiss Neville. The girls were wildly protesting this with much giggling and hitting of Justin on the arm. When Lisa called Hermione over to offer her opinion on the matter, she only grinned and excused herself, not wanting to be involved.

Finally, Hannah Abbott verbally called on her newfound inner-Gryffindor and downed her drink for a little extra courage. She marched over to Neville with a purpose, seized his face, and began snogging him mercilessly.

From several paces away, Hermione hid her smile as those nearby began to applaud and wolf-whistle. Neville eventually emerged, looking dazed but pleased, his ears red.

Sue, meanwhile, had been coerced into a drinking game with a group of Ravenclaws that - to Hermione's endless surprise and amusement - included Luna Lovegood. Luna and Neville had called their brief flame off months ago, the flicker of attraction only having lasted as long as the war. She seemed utterly unconcerned that her ex was snogging Hannah. Instead, as Hermione drifted over toward the group in an attempt at socializing, she discovered that Luna was earnestly suggesting wild alterations to the rules of the game, which she claimed could drastically improve it.

"There you are!" Ginny exclaimed, bounding over to Hermione's side and seizing her arm. "I thought you'd chickened out!"

She shook her head. "Seems like a good turnout."

"Oh, yes. Watch out for the punch though. I saw Seamus messing with it earlier."

Hermione hastily set her cup down on the nearest available surface. Her friend smirked at her.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione wondered. She had not seen him yet.

Ginny gestured to one of the corners of the common room where Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean were having an animated conversation about Quidditch. Or at least, they seemed to be miming riding broomsticks. A strange look overtook Ron's face for a moment and he whacked the side of his head with the palm of his hand, sending a single persimmon tumbling from the opposite ear. Laughter erupted within the group of former Gryffindors.

Ginny grinned with pride. "A good charm, that."

"It reminds me of second year when Ron tried to hex Malfoy and ended up burping up slugs instead." Hermione felt a vague annoyance that Malfoy was still in her head, cropping up into her conversations where she least wanted him to be. Her friend did not notice, instead cackling at that particular memory.

After a moment, Ginny had recovered and exclaimed, "Oh Merlin, I meant to tell you. You need to come here on a Friday to hear the Bloody Baron's stories. Apparently every Friday he tells the Slytherins about some of the scandalous things that have happened at Hogwarts through the years he's been here. For instance, did you know there are caves under the castle?"

Hermione cringed. If her last prefect patrol with Draco was any true indication, she had to explore those caves with him twice a week like clockwork. They were dark, though mercifully dry, unlike some of the hidden passages onto the grounds or into Hogsmeade. Lit only by wandlight, shadows fell oddly down there, even allowing Hermione to almost think Malfoy was handsome.

Almost, she reminded herself firmly, alarmed at her own train of thought.

"I just found out this year. Malfoy showed me them."

Ginny's eyes went as round as saucers. "You went down there with Malfoy? Why?"

"Prefects' rounds."

"Oh," Ginny said lamely. She almost looked disappointed. "I don't know what I was hoping for."

Hermione's eyebrows raised querulously.

"Well… you know what the caves are mostly known for?"

Hermione turned scarlet. "So you thought I went down there with Malfoy for that!"

Ginny smirked. "So you do know."

"Slytherin is really rubbing off on you."

Ginny giggled, playfully shoving Hermione. "It would certainly be a fascinating scandal if it happened: you and Malfoy."

"Ginny," Hermione warned, her heart skipping a beat at the very thought. The image of Malfoy's slate-gray eyes staring at her, his face inches from hers, resurfaced. Her heart began to beat faster. What was that about? Had there been something worse in the punch than alcohol? Hermione was glad she had abandoned her cup.

"Sorry, sorry," Ginny apologized in earnest. Reverting to her previous subject, she repeated, "But you should hear the stories, Hermione. Come any Friday night, 'round ten."

"But that's curfew!"

"All the more exciting," Ginny countered, wiggling her eyebrows ridiculously. "Ron's coming to the next one. He already said he would."

"I'll think about it," she compromised.

Hermione spent another hour wandering around the Slytherin commons, occasionally joining in on conversations, but more often than not, just lost in thought. She had never been good at parties. Around eleven, she became unusually tired and reflected that, after all, it had been a long day.

Deciding to turn in for the night, she sought out Harry. "Thanks for inviting me."

"You can't be leaving?" he gaped, eyes darting to his wristwatch. "It's early."

"Not so early," she reasoned sensibly.

Harry soon relented and offered her his invisibility cloak to get back to the tower, as it was a long way and some of the teachers were likely on patrol. She declined, but accepted his offer of the Marauder's Map instead.

Once outside the Slytherin common room, she breathed a sigh of relief. The air had been stuffy and claustrophobic with so many teenagers packed into one place in such high spirits. She glanced down the stone corridors by the dungeons and opened the map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she murmured, tapping the worn parchment with her wand.

The hall ahead was clear, but a small dot labeled 'Argus Filch' was roaming the second floor passage she would have liked to use. Fortunately, there was an alternative route.

It was harder than it looked, navigating the dark halls and corridors of Hogwarts on one's own, all the while consulting the map. Two detours - the first to avoid Filch and second to skirt around Professor Buchanan - added nearly fifteen minutes to her trek.

Hermione found herself relieved to finally be stepping up the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower. She trudged to the top of the flight, only to be met by the eagle head guardian, who threw a riddle her way: "I am always there, some distance away. A place between land or sea and sky I lay. You may move toward me, yet distant I stay."

Folding the map up to better concentrate, Hermione picked apart the brain-bender for several minutes, wishing she were not so tired.

Eventually, it clicked. "The horizon."

"Indeed it is," the door-knocker agreed, allowing her admittance.

A quick glance around the hazy blue darkness of the common room verified that no one was there, with most of the older students still at the party. With a yawn, Hermione took a step toward the stairs that would bring her to the eighth year girls' dormitory, but stopped short when she recalled the Marauder's Map in her hands.

Pulling it out, she unfolded it part of the way and tapped it with her wand, whispering, "Mischief managed."

As the aged brown ink siphoned away, she was very glad she had remembered to wipe the map in the empty common room rather than in her dormitory, in case Padma or Daphne should still be awake. Ascending her last staircase of the day, she was more than ready to succumb to the waiting comfort of sleep.

"Unnghhh," Ginny moaned again, clutching her head.

"I agree," Harry muttered, wincing as a couple of third years burst into loud laughter nearby.

Ron was chewing on a piece of plain, buttered toast like a dog chewing a bone. To an outsider, he would have seemed unaffected in comparison to his friends, but breakfast was Ron's favorite meal of the day and it was unlike him to settle only for toast when bangers and mash was an option.

"Why does it feel like I've been kicked in the head by a hippogriff?" Harry complained. He was a bit pale, his green eyes dull.

"Because Seamus spiked the punch," Hermione reminded him cheerily, spreading a generous amount of marmalade onto her own toast and tucking in happily. Her Herbology volume was propped open in front of her. "I guess he finally figured out how to turn water into rum. He's been trying to perfect that one since first year."

"Less talk, more sympathy," Ginny groaned.

Hermione spent all of Sunday getting that week's homework done. She went to bed early, reveling in the feel of a familiar routine.

Monday morning classes went smoothly. Ron had finally stopped spewing persimmons from his ears whenever he turned his head too quickly, which he considered a cause for celebration.

Still, Hermione was dreading what the evening might bring, as she would have prefect duties with Malfoy again. They had not spoken since Saturday when she caught him smoking on the hidden fifth floor balcony. Sure, he was in all of her classes except Defense, but he sat by Nott in many of them and ignored her completely.

Truly, Theodore Nott was more worrisome, as he kept flinging small objects at her or else spearing her with inappropriate looks. She tried her best to pretend they both did not exist, though it was difficult.

Word had gotten out that the prefects were planning a dance. Despite that Halloween was still several weeks away, it was already the subject on everyone's lips.

Perhaps the chatter caused Oliver Rivers to make it a point of asking Hermione to partner with him in Herbology that morning. It was pleasant to work with someone who had carefully read the current textbook information beforehand. They playfully quizzed one another as they worked together to divest a sopophorous plant of its beans.

When they ran out of topics relating to Herbology, Hermione found herself telling him a dreadful dentist joke she had often heard her parents telling their clients when she was younger. Luckily, Oliver was a half-blood and she did not have to explain the concept of dentists to him, or the joke would have fallen dreadfully flat. Her eyes glittered as he laughed; none of her friends found her this humorous, so it was a novelty.

"I don't really know many good jokes," Oliver admitted, tossing some sopophorous beans into their flower pot. They had got a good harvest so far. "That's really more of my brother's forte. Although I do remember one, it's really bad. But since you like cats…"

Hermione raised her eyebrows expectantly, throwing her own beans into the flower pot as well.

"Okay, but it's not my fault if you end up in the Hospital Wing afterward with an ulcer… did you hear about the cat that ate an entire skein of yarn?"

"No…" she breathed, waiting.

"I heard she's having mittens," he finished lamely, grinning apologetically.

Hermione groaned good-naturedly. She made the mistake of looking up to see Nott miming her laughter and jerking his head toward Oliver while making a lewd gesture. Malfoy was glaring at his sopophorous plant as if it had personally offended him, head down.

Refusing to be cowed by the likes of Theodore Nott, Hermione accepted Oliver's offer to walk her to the Great Hall for dinner. Oliver even joined her and her friends for their evening meal, managing to hold his own in a conversation with Ginny about Quidditch, which was no small feat. Afterward, he headed off to join a few of his own friends in the library, but not before flashing Hermione another winning smile.

Ginny nudged her in the ribs, smirking.

After dinner, she returned to the common room with Padma, who babbled about the upcoming dance the entire time. With some time to kill before she had to patrol with Malfoy, she retrieved a book from her dormitory and set herself up for some quiet time on one of the comfortable couches in the common area. After about half an hour, there was some commotion outside the entrance, which turned the heads of a few of the tower's occupants. For a moment, Hermione considered investigation (she was a prefect, after all), but when all soon became quiet again, she allowed her book to reabsorb her. In such a state, she did not even look up with the entry portal opened to admit someone, until…

"Hello, Hermione."

"Luna!" Hermione gasped in surprise at the sudden appearance of her dotty friend. Luna's hair was arranged in a partially braided pile today, her radish earrings bobbing on her earlobes. "What are you doing in here?"

"Ron was looking for you," the other girl replied airily. "He couldn't answer the riddle at the door."

"So that's what all that shouting was," Hermione realized. Ron was not stupid, but riddles were certainly not his strong suit. He thrived more in strategizing, which was hence the reason he could roundly whip her at wizard's chess even though Hermione beat him out in grades.

"He's still out there," Luna continued, gazing around at the common room like she was greeting an old friend. "I answered the riddle for him, but he asked me to bring you outside instead. He didn't say 'please' though."

Hermione rose from her seat. "Thank you. I'll go see what he wants."

Ron was peering out the window at the top of the landing when Hermione joined him. "Ron?"

"I remembered, Hermione," he told her without preamble.

"Sorry?"

"Remember before the Yule Ball, when I asked you to go with me, but you told me to remember to ask you first instead of as a last resort?" he queried pointedly.

Reddening, Hermione began, "Ron…"

"So here I am!" he concluded triumphantly. "I heard there was a Halloween dance and I remembered to ask you first."

"Ron, I… I've already agreed to go with someone else," she finished dully.

"Oh. Right."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he insisted, though she did not believe him. "Should've known you wouldn't want to go with me after… after the summer… and we, well…"

Hermione turned an even deeper shade of magenta, at a loss for what to say. Her whirlwind romance with Ron had been brief but intense. Too intense. It had fizzled out before really picking up any steam, leaving only awkwardness as they both quickly realized that being romantic with one another was like being romantic with a sibling.

"I just want us to be friends," he implored pitifully. "Like we agreed."

"I do, too, Ron. I really do."

"Yeah," he grimaced. "Well, I'll be seeing you."

Then he was gone. Hermione answered a new riddle (thankfully a simple one), and shuffled back inside to return to the couch. The book she had been immersed in was still waiting for her. Luna, however, was waiting for her, too.

She expected Luna to say something, but the other witch only stared at her, not saying a word. Not wanting to keep up a staring contest, Hermione broke the uncomfortable eye contact and attempted to ignore the girl sitting next to her.

It became increasingly difficult to concentrate on the words before her when Luna began to hum tunelessly. Gritting her teeth, Hermione had no idea what was going on, and was about to say as much to her friend, when Luna stood up.

Keeping her head down, Hermione watched through her eyelashes as Luna approached the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw which stood by the stairs and reached out to touch the white marble hand with familiarity. A moment later - without even a backward glance at Hermione - she departed, several Ravenclaws watching her go with skeptic bemusement.

In a still-annoyed state of mind, Hermione saw Malfoy descend from the boys' dormitories and approach her. "Ready, Granger?"

Smothering a sigh, Hermione closed her book. "Let me put this away and then we'll go."

She took a moment upstairs to collect her thoughts, taking her time in stowing her book away. As if sensing her purpose, Crookshanks suddenly appeared, winding around her legs and ready for patrol.

"Good boy, Crooks," she crooned softly. "Clever boy."

Scratching the cat's head fondly, Hermione headed in the direction of the stairwell. She said not another word to Malfoy as they exited the common room together, Crookshanks leading the way.