Certain Dark Things || Book Two

xix. leaves of green

When Friday finally arrived, Hermione—for all her love of lectures and learning—was looking forward to the weekend.

Their first week back had been...trying. Not for any specific reason, but rather an annoying culmination of many small, frustrating reasons. Elara, dealing with an influx of legal letters concerning the House of Black estate, stayed awake late into the night at her carrell in the dorm and was noticeably shorter with the rest of them—mostly Pansy, who had recently taken to wearing floral perfumes that triggered the Black heir's allergies. Katherine had acquired a new cat who did not get along with Millicent's, prompting several arguments between the two witches, and more than once they ended up with Prefect Farley in their dorm, chastising them for acting like naughty children.

Draco had taken to continuing his summer behavior, namely irritating and nagging Hermione until she felt very near hexing him just for a moment of silence. He harped on and on about the new brooms his father had ordered, the ones that would be arriving just in time for the tryouts next week, his unveiled enthusiasm pestering not only Hermione, but several of their upperclassmen and their unfortunate peers. Somehow, he always seemed to be there, trailing along behind her in the corridors with Gregory and Vincent, the two larger boys long since inured to Malfoy theatrics. His voice grated on her nerves.

Harriet was especially annoyed by Draco, and each time he started in on another meandering "my father did this, my father did that" spiel, she made an inconspicuous exit from whatever room the Malfoy heir and his goons were inhabiting. Hermione knew Harriet wanted to play Quidditch and didn't think it even remotely fair she would probably be denied trying out simply because Lucius Malfoy could throw away gold on racing brooms for the whole team. It wasn't fair, and yet the insidious social hierarchy in Slytherin House they'd thus far been spared from couldn't be bucked, and Hermione imagined they'd run into problems with it again and again as they grew older.

Elara was aware of the silent hierarchy as well. That was why both Hermione and the severe witch would subtly turn themselves and Harriet away from certain couches in the common room, away from places at Slytherin's table, why they paused and let specific students walk before them in the halls. There was an unspoken rule in their House about showing respect to your betters, and for all that Hermione fumed at the notion of having betters, she picked her battles and kept her head down.

The philosophers knew change did not occur overnight, even with magic. The most potent potions brewed for months or years, and they always had the best results.

The Slytherins left Defense on Friday eager to reach the greenhouses out on the grounds for Herbology. The first breath of fresh afternoon air invigorated Hermione after spending the last hour trapped in the dark classroom with Professor Slytherin and their surly Gryffindor peers. Harriet mumbled invectives as they walked from the castle into the warm sunshine, and even Hermione didn't have the heart to chastise her language after watching the girl be put upon by their cold professor.

Hermione was aware the bespectacled witch had seen their Head of House over the summer in Diagon Alley, and while Harriet had insisted nothing had happened in their meeting, whatever had occurred had shifted Professor Slytherin's behavior from indifferent to almost malicious. He pushed Harriet harder than any of them, and Hermione couldn't say why. He never incanted aloud during their lessons, but she knew he changed his shields from the basic Protego form simply to throw Harriet off—or to literally throw her, as was the case today.

"He's a foul git," Harriet whispered so others wouldn't overhear, one hand rubbing the small of her back. She uttered these words without the same begrudging admiration she held for Snape, who was also often denounced as a 'bloody git' for his sarcastic tongue and keenness for detention. "He almost squished Kevin."