The Gloriana Set

Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

NOTE:

Hello everyone – thank you for all the supportive comments, and your patience with this very long, very slow-burn story. This story is complete, and I'll continue posting every other day or so. 

Some readers have noted how badly Kingsley Shacklebolt behaved in the last chapter and I agree. He's under great pressure from the Ministry but that's no excuse. Kingsley gets a little character arc in this story, so we'll see what happens.

Now, get out your Omnioculars, because it's time for the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match!

Love,

Thebe

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"You call this a potions lab?"

It was Saturday morning, and Malfoy stood in the doorway of the tiny, narrow room, unimpressed. Light filtered weakly through the lab's single grimy window, rusted chains hung from the ceiling, and half-melted red candles appeared to drip blood on every surface. A scarred mahogany cabinet dominated the far wall, its doors hanging drunkenly from broken hinges. A table was shoved against the right-hand wall, holding three cobweb-shrouded cauldrons, while a high, rickety shelf lined the opposite side.

Hermione, on the other hand, was beaming. "It's perfect," she said, as Malfoy shut the door behind them. "It's just a door away from Slughorn, yet separate from the main potions dungeon so he has deniability if we blow ourselves up."

"Charming," Malfoy said. "We should get your Squeaky Mouse Club to sort this out."

"No need for that," Hermione said, poking around the dusty jars on the shelves."A few cleaning spells ..." She stopped to look up at him. "You do know cleaning spells, don't you?"

Malfoy shrugged.

"Of course you don't," she said, giving him a rather reptilian stare. "You've always had oppressed house elves without proper pay or benefits."

"Don't start spewing on me—"

"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Nobody is abusing house elves at Malfoy Manor," Malfoy said. "My father's treatment of Dobby was one of his convictions, if you recall. Even if my mother and I wanted to harm an elf, it would be incredibly stupid. They are well-treated."

"But they're not free!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "A Department of Magical Creatures official offered them freedom right after the War, tried to give them Ministry of Magic sweatshirts, and the elves cried for a week."

"But if it was presented in the right way—"

"Drop it, Granger."

"Fine," Hermione huffed. "Get out your wand, then. I'm not cleaning this room alone." Hermione gave her own wand a small flick. "Scourgify," she said, and the dust vanished from half the table.

"Scourgify," Malfoy said in a bored tone, and the table's other half was wiped clean as well. Hermione moved closer to the table's largest cauldron, brushing Malfoy's arm, and there was the sound of smashing glass. She looked over her shoulder; Malfoy had bumped into the shelves, and the back of his Slytherin Quidditch jersey was now covered in green slime and shards of glass.

"Merlin, Malfoy, you spilled all the pickled toad." Hermione raised her wand, chanting "Tergeo" and the charm siphoned the toad guts off his back. "Don't forget the little tap, it's very important."