Conversations with Other People

Chapter 6 - - Conversations with Other People

- - -

The first day of term was one of the most exciting days of the year for Hermione. It was a fresh start, a new beginning, a blank slate. She would meet her new students, those third-years who chose Arithmancy as a desired course of study.

Hermione's first day was a light one, and she was grateful for it. A double period with her sixth-year students followed by an hour of planning, then lunch, followed by one hour each with her third and fourth-year students.

"Morning, Harry," said Hermione, sitting beside him at the staff table. She loved the view of the Great Hall from that vantage: seeing all the students, making new friends, getting reacquainted with old, preparing for a new year.

"Hey, Hermione," he said brightly, smiling as he chewed his kippers. Harry rarely ate the first meal at Hogwarts, preferring instead to eat with his family at their home in Ottery St. Catchpole. The first day of term, he was required to be available to any student wishing to discuss schedules or extra sessions.

"When's your first class?" She loaded her plate with a sensible selection and took a bite.

"Right after this," he replied. "You?"

"I've got until nine," she stated. "This is one of my favorite parts of the school year...handing out schedules."

"Except we have to practically shove our food down our throats," said Harry lightly, picking up his glass of orange juice. "Cheers."

Someone sat on Hermione's other side, and she turned to greet the newcomer. "Hello, Blaise," she said with a smile.

He returned the smile. "Morning, Hermione. Would you pass the rolls?"

She obliged and returned to Harry. "How's James doing? Still getting into everything?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "He's learned how to open doors and drawers. It's giving Ginny fits."

"Aren't they locked?" Hermione asked. "Magically?"

"Yeah, that's the thing. If James really wants to, he can get the lock open. Course he usually destroys the door in the process." Harry chuckled. "Takes after his mum a bit with that temper."

"Have you considered a dampening field?" Blaise interjected. "Something to temper his magical outbursts."

"Ginny's looking into it," Harry replied. "Weasleys' sells a few types of specialized shields, though I doubt they've done anything targeted for toddlers."

"They really should," said Hermione. "Especially with George's wife expecting."

Harry plucked a roll from the basket. "Knowing him, he's probably already got a line in the works."

"How does your day look, Blaise?" Hermione asked.

Blaise Zabini taught Muggle Studies and was a casual friend of Hermione's. He'd been teaching at Hogwarts two years longer than her and had voluntarily shown her and Harry the ropes when they'd joined the staff at the same time. He'd been one of the few Slytherins that had never openly harassed them in school and was likable. He was smart, funny, and had a fantastic French-African accent.

They often talked about school, their subjects, and their students, but the conversation rarely turned personal. She doubted they'd ever be very close, but she knew if she ever needed help with anything at the school, Blaise would be there for her, and she for him.

After he told her his schedule, Blaise leaned closer. "I was wondering if we could discuss a few ideas I've had for fostering good will between our houses."

Hermione hesitated, surprised by the request. It wasn't strange for him to want to talk about their houses, but the way he asked was a little ... off. "Um, sure. Maybe tonight before dinner?"

Blaise nodded. "Let's meet in your rooms. Mine are still a mess."

"Okay," she said. "That'll be great."

ooo

"So, to review. Who can tell me the three basic principles of Arithmancy?" Hermione asked, her eyes sweeping over the class of third-year students...and first-year Arithmancy students.

A dozen pairs of eyes flicked to the chalk board, only to discover that Hermione had erased the list when they weren't paying attention. A few of them looked panicked, a few bored, and the rest began flipping through the book to find the answer.

She always enjoyed the fall term with the third-years as they began to grasp the basic concepts of Arithmancy. She looked for those students who, like she had, might develop a special interest in the subject.

"Who can give me one of them? Celeste?" She indicated the young, raven-haired Hufflepuff who had raised her hand.

"All numbers have magical properties." When the girl finished reading, she looked up from the book.

"Good. Next? Thibault?"

The sandy-haired, brown-eyed Sytherin stared at her, eyes wide.

"Page three," Hermione nudged.

He turned to the correct place and read, "Number two. Numbers are dependable even when they are irrational."

"Thank you. Why don't you go ahead and read the third principle." Hermione liked to encourage the shy students to speak, and she'd found that having them read was easier than directly asking them questions.

"Number three. When numbers are combined, the results are different than the sum of their parts." Thibault glanced at Hermione as though unsure he'd read the words correctly.

"Very good," said Hermione, walking around her desk to the board. "Rest assured, that information will be on your upcoming exam, and it is essential that you grasp the meaning of the Principles, which will begin discussing tomorrow. One week will be spent on the principles, followed by a thorough review of the numbers one through ten."

The bell rang.

Hermione smiled at her class. "See you tomorrow."

As she waited for the fourth-year students to trail in, she glanced over her notes from the sixth-year double period earlier that day. Everyone had completed his or her assignment from summer holiday, a first in her teaching experience. Invariably, one or two students came in with elaborate excuses for why they hadn't been able to get the work done. It never mattered; she always scored them with zeroes for the assignment. Perhaps word had finally got around that she meant what she said.

The fourth-year students came in and took their seats, pulled out their books, parchment, quill, and wand, ready for class.

When the bell rang fifty minutes later, Hermione could hardly believe it. They'd started with sharing stories from their summers, followed by a review of the previous year's information. Hermione asked the fourth-years the same question she'd asked the third...and they answered much quicker.

As she bid good day to the students, she couldn't help but feel that this was going to be her best year yet.

ooo

When Hermione got to her room after class, she found Blaise standing by her door, parchment in hand. When he saw her, he pushed off, smiling. "I hope now is okay," he said.

"Sure." Wordlessly, Hermione magically unlocked her door and led Blaise inside.

A low fire was simmering in the hearth. Hermione crossed the room and opened the curtains to let the afternoon sun provide the light. "Have a seat." She indicated the seating area in front of the fireplace.

Blaise sat on the sofa beside the window, and Hermione took the chair nearest to him.

"What have you got?" she asked.

He handed her the top sheet of parchment. "I made you a copy. Last year, we discussed doing some things with our houses together, to encourage good relationships between them. I've jotted down a few ideas."

Hermione glanced down the list. "These aren't bad," she said. "I like the idea of the Shrieking Shack outing."

"Pens." Blaise chuckled slightly.

When Hermione looked up, he was busy writing on his page with a pen, to Hermione's surprise. "Where did you get that?"

He examined the pen as though seeing it for the first time. "A shop called Foyles. It's near the Leaky. Discovered it when I took the wrong direction out of the pub one day. I use them all the time." Blaise tapped the pen twice on his paper, then held it out to her. "Have a look."

Hermione smiled at him, a quirk in her lip. "I've used plenty of pens, Blaise."

"Oh. Right." He retracted his arm, unable to make eye contact with her. "Sometimes I forget you're Muggle-born."

"It's okay. Sometimes I do too." The admission was surprising at first, but the sensation didn't last but for a second. She'd been in the wizarding world for over half of her life; it should feel perfectly natural.

Blaise glanced at her, his dark, deep eyes searching hers. "I like pens. They're small, portable, don't require ink bottles...which can spill...and they're much sturdier than quills. Why haven't we adopted them into our world?"

Hermione scoffed. "Because that would mean admitting that Muggles have done something better than us. We can't have that, Blaise. It would mean the unraveling of the fabric of our existence as we know it."

He laughed. "Good point. Wouldn't want to upset the delicate balance of delusion and power-tripping in the wizarding world."

Hermione chuckled. "Too much reality might cause their heads to implode. They couldn't handle the reality."

"Who are they, anyway?" Blaise asked jokingly.

"Oh, you know the type. Rich, pure-blooded, hasn't set a toe into the Muggle world in his or her entire life, and neither did the generations before. Know anyone like that?" Her tones was teasing, but for a moment, she worried he would take it poorly.

Then he smiled. "A few people. They just have no idea that there's an entire world out there, not just our little corner."

"It would force them to rethink their view of the life they've lived and the traditions they carry on." Hermione shook her head, wanting to change the subject. She could feel her blood starting to boil at the thought of the injustice she'd witnesses, that still persisted. "Would you like some tea?" Hermione went to her small stove and started a fire under her kettle. Blaise said yes, so she handed him her collection of tea bags.

Back in school, she had always thought that he was one of those 'types.' He was a Slytherin, one of Malfoy's best friends in school, not openly hostile, but he certainly never tried to stop Malfoy or stand up to him.

Hermione had been surprised to discover that during the final battle, Blaise hadn't joined Voldemort and the Death Eaters but had taken a boat and crossed the lake with a few other Slytherins who wanted nothing to do with the fight. No one had noticed, since the fighting was concentrated on the other side of the castle.

He and the others had stayed on the far side of the lake until they thought it was safe to come out. Blaise had been very cooperative with the Aurors, and he hadn't been branded with the Dark Mark. After taking his N.E.W.T.s, he'd entered a training program for teaching and started at Hogwarts immediately after completion.

"Have you ever used felt-tipped pens? They're my favorite. The writing looks like it came from a quill, with none of the trouble. How about you?"

Hermione started to respond, but her fireplace chimed, indicating that someone was trying to call. "Excuse me."

Blaise nodded and turned his attention to his parchments.

After accepting the Floo call, Ginny's head appeared in green flames. Hermione smiled. "Hey, Ginny."

"Gotta make this quick. Harry was supposed to ask you...but he forgot." She rolled her eyes. "Dinner tonight? To celebrate the new term?"

"I have a house meeting," Hermione replied. "It might go long, since it's the first of the year. I'll try to get out by seven-thirty."

"That will be perfect," said Ginny. "If you're late, it's okay. Ron will be here, Luna, Neville ... a few others."

"Sounds fun, thanks, Ginny! See you tonight."

Hermione terminated the connection and returned to her sitting room. Blaise was standing at her bookshelf, running a finger along the spines.

"See anything you like?" she asked, leaning against the door frame between the two rooms.

Blaise finished the row and shrugged. "I've read a few of them. We have different tastes, apparently."

"Oh?" Hermione sat back down in her chair and watched her companion return to his seat on the sofa.

"I enjoy reading what Muggles call science fiction. Asmiov, especially." Blaise uncapped his pen, ready to take notes.

"I prefer Muggle literature," Hermione said and then amended, "Classic literature."

Blaise nodded, his eyes on the page. "I can tell."

Hermione watched the top of Blaise's head for a few seconds before shaking her head. He'd always been a little strange, and this episode only reinforced that perception. One minute they'd been laughing and joking, the next, he'd retreated somewhere in his mind.

For an instant, she wondered if he fancied her, but then quickly dismissed the idea. Blaise was just a friend; he had never given any indication that he thought of her any other way. A niggling thought reminded her that he was a bit strange, that he might not display interest the way she was used to.

"Shall we continue?" he asked, smiling at her again as though the weird moment had never happened.

"Sure." She nodded, content to leave the matter for another date...or to never revisit it.

ooo

Draco sat at his desk with a cup of strong coffee on a bright, crisp Thursday, one week after the beginning of term at Hogwarts. Time was slowly slipping away, and he wanted to have answers before his parents returned. Besides, working with Hermione would also go much smoother if he didn't have to worry about his parents' meddling.

Although his plan was going according to schedule, everything felt as if it was moving too slow. He was typically a patient man, but once he decided to actively search for his blackmailer, he wanted to get started now. There were things he had to accomplish first...he knew that...but there were moments when he half considered dropping everything and going directly to Hermione with what he had.

Gathering information took time, he knew that, and there was a reason for what he was doing. Before he could investigate the blackmailing, he had to get her to work with him. In order to convince her to help him, he needed to have all the facts when he presented his case to Granger...and an incentive.

Nearly two weeks had passed since he had begun the process of learning all he could about Hermione Granger. In that time, he had at least skimmed almost every journal she subscribed to, memorized everything Blaise had sent him, and started finalizing his plans for providing the incentive. If his theory was correct...if she was trying to find a cure to long-term effects of the Cruciatus curse...then he just might have the very thing that would ensure her assistance, regardless of what he asked of her.

One of the most interesting things he had learned from Blaise's investigation was that the man seemed exceptionally fascinated with his colleague. Draco wondered if it might be a problem, but he didn't dwell on it. He would mention it to Hermione about it when he made his pitch and deal with it then if necessary.

Caleb's distinctive knock interrupted Draco's thoughts. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and admitted his personal assistant.

"Gregory Goyle here to see you, sir," Caleb informed him.

Draco nodded, putting the daily mail and the pages of notes he'd compiled into a drawer.

Greg entered with a metal case in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Morning, Draco," he said, dipping his head in greeting and taking a seat across the large executive desk.

"Greg. I trust you had a good trip?" Draco smiled warmly at his friend.

The other man grinned. "I did. It was very successful."

"I see," said Draco. "Do tell."

"I know you've got a meeting in a bit," Greg said, setting his coffee on the desk. "But I thought you'd want to get these first thing." He opened the metal case after using an unlocking charm and turned it so that Draco could look inside.

Draco saw four large, metal tubes held in place by thick foam. "The volcanic ash?" he asked, taking one of the containers out and opening it to examine the contents.

"Yes. All three volcanoes you wanted," Greg replied.

"Excellent." Draco replaced the container. "I can't thank you enough."

"Do you mind if I ask what they're for?" Greg asked, shutting the case and handing it to Draco. "Other than ... well, sending me to Fiji?"

Draco smirked. "Was that successful? I've been anxious to hear from you. Did you find Pansy?"

Greg shifted in his chair. "Yeah. She stayed in Suva, the capital. There's a small wizarding population, and she had a room in the best hotel. It was the first place I checked, just as you had suggested."

"Did you see her?" Draco asked.

Greg nodded. "She looked great and seemed to be having a good time."

Draco frowned. "Did you speak with her at all?"

"Oh, well, yeah. When she saw me, she insisted that we do something together, since we were both there. We had dinner."

"And?" Draco prodded, after realizing that Greg didn't plan to continue. "I sent you to Fiji on a two-fold mission. Surely I'm due a few details about how you spent your free time."

"Dinner was nice," Greg said stiffly.

"Did you see her again?" Draco asked, feeling as though he were pulling teeth to get anything out of his usually talkative friend.

"Yeah, I saw her again." Greg stopped talking and averted his eyes.

Draco decided not to press his friend. Whatever had happened was between Greg and Pansy, and despite Draco's involvement, he didn't want to cause additional pain, if, indeed, that was what held Greg's tongue. He felt a little ridiculous at his attempt at match-making. He had only wanted his friends to be happy.

"Tell me about the samples," Draco said, sipping from his now lukewarm coffee.

"They were a lot of work to get," Greg began. "Not difficult themselves, but getting to them. None of the volcanoes are on the main island of Fiji; instead, they are located on three surrounding islands. The wizarding presence in Fiji is limited, and I couldn't get details on precisely where the islands were for Apparating purposes."

"What did you do?" Draco asked.

"I ... well, I hope it's all right, I figured it would be, since you wanted this assignment done quickly." Greg looked at Draco sheepishly. "I chartered a Muggle boat. With company funds."

Draco clenched his jaw but otherwise made no indication of the news unsettling him. The boat was something he hadn't considered, but then the entire trip was outside of the budget for the month. What difference would a boat rental really make? "That's fine, Greg," Draco said, trying to reassure him with a smile. "Absolutely. You did what needed to be done."

Greg let out a long sigh of relief. "I thought you might be angry," he said. "Since I didn't ask. I wanted to, but I had to make a quick decision, and with the time zone differences, you weren't available."

"I said it's fine," Draco repeated casually. "How did it go?"

Still not quite allowing himself to fully relax, Greg continued. "Good, good. I enjoyed the boat, actually. The first two volcanoes were on islands not far from the main one, Viti Levu, and I went to those first. They took a day each to collect the samples. I've done a fair share of collections for you, but these were some of the hardest. The weather was hot and muggy, the ash was buried under dirt and plant life .... I think I should apply for hazard pay."

Draco laughed, and Greg's gaze lifted to meet his. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

"The third volcano was a bit farther away and required an overnight stay," Greg continued. "Getting to the top of those things wasn't easy, either; I had to get rid of the guy I hired and Apparate as close as possible."

Draco again removed a container from the case and opened it. This time, however, he removed one of the vials inside. "How many samples did you get?"

"Six from each volcanic area," Greg replied. "They don't know when Koro, one of the volcanoes, last erupted, but the other two were active in the 16th and 17th centuries. I think the samples from those will be more beneficial."

"There are four cylinders," Draco noted.

"Right," said Greg, excitedly. "There's a fourth volcanic island, about four hundred sixty kilometers from Fiji. It's the island of Rotuma, and the volcano is made of alkali-olivine basalt and hawaiite."

Draco blinked, his mind tripping around one of the words but unable to say exactly which one or why. "Are those names supposed to mean something to me?" he asked.

"I ... well, no," said Greg. "But it's different from the other three volcanoes. A strange bloke on the island said there were legends of weird things happening around that volcano, so I reckon I just followed my instinct. I collected soil samples from different cones on Rotuma, at different elevations. It's all marked. I don't know what you were looking for, but I think your best shot at finding something is from Rotuma."

"Thanks, Greg." Draco found the container labeled Rotuma and opened it. "I'll send these to the lab and hopefully they'll find something useful."

Greg leaned forward in his seat, resting one arm on the armrest. "So ... what are these samples for, anyway? You've never had me go on such an errand before."

Draco closed the case and put it behind his desk. "They're for a bit of research on Unforgivables, specifically the Cruciatus. I'm not quite sure where this might be useful, but I read something recently that mentioned volcanic ash and soil in an experimental remedy. I need to do a little more reading on the matter before I can speculate about what I might have." He paused. "It could be nothing."

"The Cruciatus?" Greg repeated with a slight frown.

In truth, Draco had been curious about Hermione since their last encounter, when she had mentioned potions for countering the long-term effects of the Cruciatus. Thus far, no one had been successful in alleviating the nightmares, twitches, auditory and visual hallucinations that occasionally plagued the victims of the curse. Their severity depended on the time under the curse, and Draco knew that Hermione had experienced a particularly toxic dose.

When she brushed past the subject, he suspected that she was looking for a relieving potion, for herself as well as others. Draco had his own share of lasting side effects from the curse and had requested an exhaustive list of articles on the subject. One had mentioned the potential for benefits in volcanic ash.

"Symptom relief," Draco remarked. "As I said, it could be nothing. I can't thank you enough for doing this."

"You're welcome, of course," Greg replied. "Anytime."

Draco glanced at the clock and saw that only a few minutes remained until first meeting of the day. "We'll talk again soon, Greg," he said, dismissing him.

Once the door shut behind his friend, Draco sighed. He hoped the samples might prove useful, but ever since he sent Greg on the mission to retrieve them, he had doubted that anything would come of it. The trip had been a brash attempt to get his friends ... what? Romantically involved? He wanted Pansy to see a different side of Greg, not just as 'Draco's friend.' Well, he had done what he could, and the rest was up to the fates.

ooo

A/N: A line or two from this were inspired by "Elizabethtown." Thanks to manda for the chapter title! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you liked this one! I'll be back with art for the next chapter, but do check out the music for this chapter!

Endless beta thanks go to drcjsnider, manda, z, and pokeystar. MWAH!