Ariadne's Thread ⭒ h. potter

It's Ariadne

As they walked back to the castle from Hogwarts, Hermione and Ariadne followed behind Harry and Ron in peaceable silence while the two boys discussed their empty stomachs. Ariadne noticed Hermione watch the two with a fond grin and found a mirroring smile rising to her own face.

"It was very kind of you to check up on me, Ariadne." Hermione's voice cut through the silence. "I know Malfoy's your friend, but he really is rotten. Not that I condone what Ron did, of course. He and Harry should be staying out of trouble."

"Oh, I don't know." Ariadne looked at Hermione, raising an eyebrow mischievously. "I thought it was rather gallant of him to defend you like that!" She giggled as Hermione blushed before her voice turned serious once more.

"Draco's my cousin. We're not friends, I don't think. I mean, I thought we were, but he hasn't talked to me since the sorting. Not that I want to talk to him anymore. He explained it to me, what the word meant. I don't know what I am– I don't know if I fit into his life."

"Right," Hermione began, curiosity creeping into her words. Her unconscious pursuit of information truly was relentless, though Ariadne didn't mind. She had her own questions to answer. "Right, you said you were new to the magic world. That's quite surprising, for a Malfoy."

"Well, I'm not a Malfoy. I'm a Black– whatever good that's done me. I was raised by my mother though, in London. Muggle London. I knew about magic and wizards and stuff, but I had never really seen in practice. I'm just new to all this, I guess is what I'm trying to say."

"I was new to all of this too. I still am, really. I'm a muggleborn– as you know. And I do rather well in my classes, and all of that." Hermione blushed faintly with pride. "But I'll always feel like a step behind. There's so much more to learn– customs, politics, mythology. It's a whole culture, a whole world. I belong in this world, I know that. But my point is, Draco needn't remind me of my status to him. I'm aware of what I am. And he can't hurt me because of it.

Ariadne nodded, taking Hermione's words for what they were: advice. She couldn't ignore how everyone saw her, she realized, as she entered the Great Hall. Harry and Ron received detention, while she received the glares of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams. But she kept her head held high while she sat to eat lunch with the trio. She was a Black, just like Hermione was muggleborn. And all either of them could do was prove everyone wrong.

Still, the next week of school wasn't any better. For starters, she had Potions first thing, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Professor Snape might hate her. On top of that, Ariadne shared the class with Slytherin, and she knew quite certainly that they did hate her. Nothing new, she supposed, but still not the best way to spend a morning.

"I've written the instructions for the potion that you'll be brewing today on the board. Who can tell me what it is based on the recipe?" Snape posed to the class, looming imposingly at the front of the room.

Ariadne looked at the board but simply had no idea what the correct answer may have been. She was a good student, at least thus far, but she wasn't exactly reading ahead in her potions book. Neither was the rest of the class it seemed, if their silence was any indication. Everyone was careful not to look Snape in the eye, lest he notice and call on them.

Astoria tentatively raised her hand into the air.

"Greengrass." He called.

"It's for Wiggenweld, a healing potion. For injuries, or to reverse a Sleeping Draught."

A look passed over Snape's face that may have been pleased, but it passed quickly and he remained as inscrutable as ever. "And Draught of Living Death," he added. "5 points to Slytherin."