"Ootori," Granger asked, "Is there something going on? The students are more boisterous than usual." She sat straight in her chair and yawned, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. Kyoya didn't know a yawn could be cute, or sophisticated, or anything besides a yawn, but there she was, proving him wrong. They'd agreed that it would be best for her to stay in character as much as possible even outside of club hours, and he was quietly impressed that she was remembering even in her evident tiredness.

"You didn't know? Today and tomorrow Ouran Academy is hosting our annual cultural club exposition." Kyoya frowned. "If you were planning to take the day off, I would suggest that you reconsider. The Host Club must put its best foot forward."

"Don't worry, I didn't make any plans," she said. "When you say 'cultural club', what does that mean? What kind of numbers are we expecting? Which of Ouran's clubs will be performing? I don't suppose we're performing, are we? You wouldn't have allowed me to remain ignorant for this long." Her brow furrowed, her posture straightening further, her legs crossing. Her skirt inched up to show a bit of thigh, and Kyoya could see the goosebumps on her skin. It was cold, after all, but she'd taken her change in uniform seriously.

"Well," said Kyoya, defending his expression against the soft smile threatening to overtake him, "Most clubs which are specific to the region or academy, or focus on the performing arts, are considered 'cultural'. We're only hosting schools within our region, so we're expecting a total of five schools with perhaps three clubs each at most. Within those, not every single member is usually selected to represent their school, so a maximum of six members per club. That makes an estimate of—"

"Fifteen clubs, ninety people at most. What were last year's numbers?"

"Barely half that," Kyoya said.

"And the performances?"

"Only the drama and choral clubs will be performing," said Kyoya. "Not us. We may expect to have some visitors, nevertheless."

"Understood," said Granger. "It will be interesting to see how my research matches up with reality. Of course, Ouran is undeniably the best, but seeing other examples should prove entertaining."

Before Kyoya could reply, the teacher tapped on the board in that obnoxious way he did to get their attention, and Kyoya had nothing to distract him from the warmth in his belly. It was her voice, he decided. It was too smooth, too kind. It fooled him into thinking she cared about him, and made him want her to.

Throughout the remainder of Advanced Calculus, Kyoya tried to focus on the lesson but then Granger would make some small, subtle move, and Kyoya's attention was riveted. She was no artless child, true, but he doubted that she was calculating enough to do such a thing for no real gain. If she wasn't planning it, designing it, then that meant the fault must lie with him.

Unacceptable.

Calculus had never been less diverting.

"Ootori—"

"Kyoya," he said automatically. "I told you to call me Kyoya."

For a moment her serene smile twitched, but with what emotion he couldn't say. "Kyoya. I'll need to drop by the Black Magic Club before I join you all to greet our guests."

"That's fine," he said. It wasn't fine. She spent entirely too much time in the basement with Nekozawa, but he knew enough to know that trying to forbid her from going wouldn't end well, and may even cause her to quit being a hostess.

That would leave him at a disadvantage for several reasons, the most pressing being that they would lose the substantial traffic and income which had been steadily increasing upon Granger's arrival. It had been two weeks, and now every day she was averaging a dozen requests, with her highest request rate being twenty-six. Those who came in regularly were more than willing to pay to make sure they had priority placement, with two begging to pay to be able to stay at her side the whole time. Normally he would refuse, but they each offered such a sum— daily sum— that Kyoya felt it prudent to bend the rules just a bit.

She was only improving. Kyoya couldn't blame her patrons for being smitten.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Granger, and for a moment Kyoya was unsure whether she knew what he was thinking. He wouldn't put it past her.

The bell rang before Kyoya could think of what to say.

"Granger!" called Musuko Tachikawa, walking toward them. "Please allow me to walk you to your next class?" His voice was giddy, breathless. Pathetic.

She didn't even need the warning look from Kyoya. "I'm sorry, Mr Tachikawa, it's against the Host Club rules to spend time with any one boy outside of club hours." She bowed her head modestly, and looked up at the starstruck boy through her lashes. "I know we have the cultural exposition today and tomorrow, and I wouldn't wish to deprive you of a chance to enjoy the festivities. I hope to see you after it's over, though."

"O-o-of course, Granger. Of course. I don't care about the exposition, can I see you today?"

"That's up to Suoh or Ootori," she said, neatly passing the question to Kyoya.

It was a dilemma. On the one hand, it was important to keep the momentum going, for Tachikawa had never come to request her. However, entertaining guests from the other schools would be a challenge if they were also entertaining guests. If they just made visiting hours later on in the day, perhaps it would work. "Our schedule is closed for the first two hours after class is over," he said, "But after that time we will be accepting requests."

"Thank you, Ootori," Granger said, and for the second in which their eyes met Kyoya drowned in the mirth he could see behind hers. Too soon, she turned back to Tachikawa. "I hope to see you then. For now, though, we must all get to class. The bell will ring again soon."

Tachikawa stammered his goodbyes, swearing he would be in Music Room 3 the moment he was allowed, and ran off.

"Let's go, Ootori," she muttered, picking up her bag, which was perhaps the single deviation from her image. It was undoubtedly full to bursting with books, and often Kyoya caught her pulling one or several out when she had free time.

"I'll be walking you to class," Kyoya said, savoring this smallest of victories. "It's dangerous for you to be alone. Desire doesn't always manifest in healthy ways, and I'd like to avoid you getting hurt."

She looked amused but allowed it. "Come, then, or we'll be late."

###x###

Umehito had laughed for ages when Hermione told him of her decision to become a Host. To his credit, he never doubted whether she was telling the truth or whether she was capable of fulfilling such a role, but it had been several weeks and with time so passed his amusement.

"You don't visit often enough," he'd accused.

"I know, I know," she'd grumbled.

So, in an effort to preserve the relationship she'd built, Hermione planned her every free moment around visiting him. She stayed at his mansion over weekends and instead of taking an hour between class and requesting hours to get ready in Music Room 3, she made the trip to the basement.

She was cutting it close, not having left the Black Magic Club room until the hour had struck, and she hurried through the lonely walk upstairs.

"Where are you going, fair maiden? Won't you allow me to accompany you?"

Ah, yes, the students from the other schools had arrived. Hermione stopped and turned to the feminine voice. "I'm going to Music Room 3. I apologize, I had hoped to be with my fellow hosts to greet our guests. It cannot be helped. My name is Hermione Granger, miss."

The girl standing before her— uncomfortably close— was tall and thin, with close-cropped brown hair. She wore a long skirt and a blazer which were clearly part of her uniform. "My name is Benio Amakusa, maiden, though you may call me Benio. How delicate, how ladylike you are! Please, allow me to accompany you."

It took effort not to allow her lips to quirk up, but Hermione maintained her gentle smile. The "I'd follow you anywhere" hung in the air between them. "You may do as you please, miss, but I would be honored to show you the way."

Amakusa grabbed her hand and tugged her forward, wrapping her other arm around Hermione's waist. "Maiden—"

"Miss Amakusa, I suggest you unhand me this instant," Hermione said, unsure where she was finding that calm tone. Her skin crawled, not with the contact but with the magic rising to defend her.

Perhaps it was something in her countenance, or perhaps her magic shocked her, but Amakusa slacked her grip enough for Hermione to pull away. "My apologies," she said. "To hold you would be heaven, and I could not resist."

"Shall we leave? My fellow hosts will be missing my presence by now," said Hermione, smoothing out her skirt.

"Oh, yes, of course! Do lead the way."

Hermione smiled, aiming for her usual serenity. Some impish impulse made her put out her hand. Amakusa seemed to know what to do with it, tucking it into her elbow.

Hermione's magic grumbled its warning beneath her skin, as much a scold to Hermione as to Amakusa. Her magic had always been a possessive thing, unhappy with most touch. It didn't like this Benio girl with the same near-violence with which it hated Suoh. It tolerated Umehito, and Hermione was usually so pleased not to have to immediately reject touch that she allowed Umehito almost free reign to hug and touch her when he felt the need.

Of course, Hermione knew it wasn't a good idea to let her magic have too much control over her actions. She planned to grow with it as equals, as companions, rather than allowing her magic to grow beyond her. She'd met wizards like that, wizards who were puppets to their magic. Lord Voldemort was one such wizard, being so small and useless without his magic to guide him that he feared more than anything that it would desert him. It had become a mission to appease his magic, she suspected, as if plying it with power would cause it to accept him once more. It wouldn't work, not if he lived for thousands of years.

"What are you thinking, maiden?" Amakusa asked. She smelled of cedarwood. Hermione wasn't a fan.

"I'm thinking of someone I knew once," she said, unaware for the moment that her magic was no longer restrained beneath her skin, but rather bleeding out into the air around her.

"He makes you angry, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "He hurt people I care about." There was no point in lying, after all.

"I can feel it. It's... visceral. You exude life, maiden." Her voice held a note which Hermione had become familiar with over the last weeks. She didn't know how or why, but Amakusa was smitten. It wasn't a bad thing, exactly, just confusing.

The magic. It was the magic, it must be. Why else would she be affecting Muggles so strongly? It did fit in with her persona: the perfect lady with steel and allure underneath. It would be too much effort to suppress the magic, and it would only become upset with her. She'd always worked to keep her magic happy, and doing something so stupid would hurt their relationship.

"Thank you, Miss Amakusa." She glanced up at the taller girl and realized that she hadn't even been watching where they were going, so absorbed was she in observing Hermione. Hermione looked down, pretending she hadn't seen anything. "Here we are," she said.

The door was open, and within stood two girls in the same uniform that Amakusa wore, St Lobelia Academy's. They'd made minor changes to theirs, making it slightly different from the pictures in the books Hermione had read, but it was definitely recognizable.

The hosts, for their parts, were dressed as knights templar, with white tunics and red crosses prominent on their chests. An odd choice, in Hermione's opinion. Knowing Ootori, her costume would be waiting for her in the changing room.

"My apologies, I should have come earlier," she said. "Forgive me, ladies, gentlemen."

Both of the Lobelia girls turned and beamed at her. "Oh, Benibara, where have you found this gem?" cried the taller of the two.

"She was wandering the halls. I would have thought her a spirit were it not for the life which radiates from her."

Hermione chanced a look at the hosts, none of whom looked quite comfortable. The girls were lesbians, immune to their charms. It was up to Hermione to entertain their guests, apparently.

"Please, come sit," she said, leading Amakusa to a couch. "Would you like tea?"

"Yes," said the smallest of the girls.

"But please, do not leave," implored the taller one.

Hermione inclined her head at Ootori, asking him without words to handle the situation. He nodded back and disappeared in the kitchenette.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said, folding up on her armchair as she was accustomed to doing. "May I have the honour of knowing yours, ladies?"

The short one leaned forward and enthused, "I'm Hinako Tsuwabuki, but the others call me Hinagiku."

"My name is Chizuru Maihara," said the taller one.

"Oh, the Zuka Club!" Hermione said. Ootori appeared unobtrusively behind her, and Hermione motioned for him to set down the tray. Hermione poured them all a cup, beginning with the clear leader, Amakusa, then Maihara, and finally Tsuwabuki.

"You know of us, then?" Amakusa preened.

There was no harm in flattering them a little, Hermione decided. "Yes, of course. When I moved to Japan, I researched every school in the area. In the end, I decided on Ouran Academy, but Lobelia was a strong contender. The Zuka Club especially sounded like fun."

"We're glad you think so," Tsuwabuki purred.

"This club is a disgrace," Maihara said to her clubmates. "To think that they've brought this beautiful maiden down with them— it's insupportable."

"I couldn't agree more," said Amakusa, turning toward the assembly of hosts. "The Host Club's president may be a pretty little halfer, but he shouldn't be using his looks to create a fictitious romance. Attempting to fool the hearts of pure young maidens is demeaning to all women. Your so-called 'club activities' are nothing more than debasing macho fantasies! I promise you, we will bring you down. The Ouran Host Club will be abolished!"

"That's quite enough, Miss Amakusa," Hermione said, forcing her muscles to relax. "Please do not insult my friends in such a manner. Your assumption that the girls who come here are coerced into doing so implies that they are weak of will and easily misled."

The three girls faced her again and blinked.

"She's right," said Tsuwabuki.

"Hermione Granger," Amakusa said, as if she were tasting the syllables. "That a pure beauty would also have such superior understanding..."

"She's perfect, Benio," Maihara said.

"Hermione, why don't you come with us? We can handle the paperwork, and you can be with us before the week is out," Tsuwabuki said.

"Please, Hermione," said Maihara.

Hermione closed her eyes. How officious! Hadn't she already said that she'd made her choice? "My apologies, ladies. As much as I would like to become better acquainted with you all, there are people here who need me. Please, don't go to such trouble on my account."

"Of course, we must give you time to think about it," said Amakusa with the air of someone indulging a child's silly wish. "We will come back for you tomorrow. Goodbye for now, maiden."

The other two echoed the sentiment and twirled out the door, clicking it shut behind them.

The room was silent for a moment, and Hermione's limbs trembled.

"'Mione—"

She seized Amakusa's abandoned, empty teacup and threw it with all her might. Her magic shattered it before it even hit the wall.

"Miss Granger—"

"Shut up," Hermione hissed. "Just... just give me a moment."

"Takashi, 'Mione is being scary," Haninozuka wailed behind her.

She had to calm down before things started breaking on their own. "Please, leave me," she said.

After a moment of silence, Hermione checked for auras and found only Ootori still remaining.

"I hope you're planning to pay for that," Ootori said, coolly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, feeling her fury soaking into the floor around her. "It's not broken."

"Of course it's— what?"

"Hardy little things, aren't they?" Hermione walked over to the surreptitiously-repaired teacup and picked it up, examining it for chips. It was perfect, exactly the way it had been. "See?"

"I saw it shatter," said Ootori.

"Then how come it's not broken now?" Hermione asked.

"These things tend to happen around you," Ootori said. "I don't know how you do it, but you do."

"If you say so," Hermione shrugged.

###x###

Everyone was unsettled after Granger's unprecedented paroxysm, but she seemed to slip back into her role without any problems.

Musuko Tachikawa kept his promise, bursting in through the doors the very minute they opened for business. Kyoya repressed a scowl and processed his request for Granger. Several of her regulars weren't far behind, including the two who paid to sit with her all day.

Kyoya had gotten into the habit of watching her, ostensibly to assess her hosting talent. More often, though, he caught himself imagining himself sitting with her— imagining that her smiles were for him, and that they were real. Today, he watched Tachikawa fawn over her, asking all manner of questions. The other boys sat there and listened to the same answers they'd heard before with hearts in their eyes.

His personal feelings aside, bringing on a female host was an incredibly lucrative decision. While not rivalling Tamaki's request rate, she filled in a happy mean between Tamaki and the twins.

"You've been watching 'Mione lately," Honey remarked, sounding older as he sometimes did.

Kyoya looked down at the diminutive senior, surprised out of his thoughts. "She's doing well for a rookie," he said.

"She isn't actually that person. You know that, right?"

"I know," Kyoya said, "but she plays it well."

As suddenly as he'd come, Honey skipped back to his small table to enjoy the comforts of confectionaries.

Honey was right, of course. What made Granger so remarkable was that, unlike the male hosts, she wasn't even close to actually being her role. It would be downright foolish to grow attached to the idea of a nadeshiko. Kyoya knew better than any of them just how far she altered herself to become her persona.

Perhaps it was because he was afraid of her true personality. She could break and repair things without touching them, and something told him that that was only scratching the surface of her abilities. If he were honest with himself, her unexplained kinesis was why he let her do largely as she pleased. He would have to be an idiot not to be afraid of her, and Kyoya was anything but an idiot.

Kyoya rang the bell for shift change, and groans of disappointment filled the room. The girls got up without a fuss, though. He looked over at Granger's couch, but none of them had moved.

"-This weekend, Hermione. Please. I'll do anything!" a singularly average boy begged, and by the desperation in his voice this was only the latest in a string of pleas.

"Mr Otokowai, it's against club policy for me to spend time with any of our guests outside of club hours. I'm sorry, sir, but it's not my choice." She looked exceptionally calm, displaying none of her usual tells.

Besides Kajo Otokowai, there were five boys littering the couches around Granger. Each looked nervous and furious, and two in particular looked willing to get physical. Intervention would be necessary— but Kyoya waited. He wanted to know how Granger would handle the situation.

"Kajo," Granger said, interrupting the beginning of another round of frantic entreaties. "It's time for you to go. I will see you the next time you come here." She held out her hand, palm down and wrist relaxed. Perplexed and hopeful, Otokowai took it. "If you want to see me, you will come here tomorrow. Yes?"

"Of course," Otokowai slurred, expression slack. "As you wish."

"Go now," she said softly.

Kyoya watched, perturbed, as Otokowai picked up his bag and marched out of the parlor.

"My apologies, gentlemen," she said to the others. "But it is time for you to go. Thank you for keeping me company. I hope to see you all tomorrow." Her smile was small but brilliant, and the three who hadn't paid to stay by her side shambled off with witless, overawed grins.

Granger sipped her tea, and for the second time that day Kyoya was afraid of her.

###x###

The Zuka Club came back the next day, as promised. The twins moved out of the way of the swinging door just in time to avoid being crushed, and turned to hiss at the intruders.

"Welcome back, ladies," Kyoya said, bowing a little.

The three Lobelia girls ignored him completely, and Kyoya blinked, shoving his glasses up on his nose.

"Hermione!" Amakusa called. "We've come to collect you!"

Kyoya let them call her for several moments before interrupting, "Hermione has yet to come in. She never does until soon before visiting hours."

"Where is she, then?" they cried, angrier than the situation warranted.

"We're unsure," Kyoya said.

"Maybe with the Black Magic Club," the twins cut in. "But there's no guarantee. Most of the time we can't find her at all."

"Would you pay us the compliment of waiting here, ladies?" Tamaki said. "Hermione shouldn't be long."

The girls exchanged pained glances before Amakusa sighed, "There doesn't appear to be a better option."

They stalked as one to Granger's couch and sat in that same wooden formation, clearly reluctant to be entertained. Kyoya let them be. The sooner they left, the better.

Granger was singular in her entrance in that she opened the doors as little as would allow her to slip through and sidling in. The hinges were silent that way, and she walked with even less noise. "Mr Ootori," she said from behind him, making Kyoya jump.

"You have guests," he coughed, once he'd recovered his equilibrium.

"Oh. So I do."

She tugged on a strand of hair apologetically, and it was only then that Kyoya really took in her appearance. Her hair was huge and frizzy, her face was flushed, and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. As she subtly pointed out, she wasn't fit to entertain guests.

"I've got this," she said, an idea flashing in her eyes like a meteor. Before Kyoya could protest, she was approaching the Zuka Club girls.

"Hermione, at last!" Tsuwabuki cried.

"I'm sorry," Granger said, grinning sheepishly. "I offered to help my friend clean up a party and the time got away from me. Is it visiting hours already?" She crossed over to her usual perch and arranged herself with less poise than usual. Her tone, too, contained less courtesy and more real friendliness.

"No," said Amakusa— was she blushing? It was hard to tell— "Indeed, you need never clean or see this room again. We've come to collect you."

"That's kind of you," Granger said, "but entirely unnecessary. I enjoy volunteering my time here, Miss Amakusa, and I don't need rescuing."

"Of course you don't need rescuing," Maihara cooed.

"You would be honoring us with your company," Tsuwabuki said.

Granger shook her head, and even that gentle motion swung her hair. "You don't understand, ladies. I will not go with you. I'm conscious of the compliment, but nothing you say will change my mind."

"But—"

"Enough. You're attempting to impose your wills over mine as if you know better than I what's best for me. You're acting like everything I despise in men. Why would I want anything to do with hypocrites who claim to advocate for women but who actually just put themselves in place as their new superiors? It's disgusting, and I want nothing to do with it. No, Benio, let me speak. I've allowed you your piece, and it's only fair that you allow me mine." Granger glared at the three shocked girls around her. "You've come into my home and you insult everyone I hold dear as if you're actually better somehow. I want you to get out. Perform your little song and then go home."

Perhaps that was too far, but Kyoya couldn't bring himself to move or even speak. He could only stare in something close to horror as Granger seemed to tower over her guests, emitting a warning that any intelligent being would recognize. The girls seemed just as frozen as Kyoya and the other hosts.

Something cracked behind them all, and although the sound was startling in the silence no one turned to look.

"Am I understood?" Granger asked, and smiled. The tension bled out of the air just enough for Kyoya to regain freedom of motion and intelligent thought, and the girls couldn't absent themselves fast enough.

Everyone's eyes remained on Granger even as the doors slammed shut.

"That was unbecoming," Kyoya said, cognizant of incredulous stares from his friends.

"I know," said Granger, standing and unrolling her sleeves. "I took on a different character. They hadn't seen enough of my normal one to know the difference."

"That's not what I meant. You may have just created an enemy, not just for yourself but for all of us."

"Sure," she said, and then laughed. "Like they hadn't already pledged themselves against you. Besides, they were terrified. I guess no one's stood up to them, and they didn't know how to handle that. Oh, well. You're just worried about the club's reputation."

"Naturally," Kyoya drawled.

"Look," she said, sobering, "You have nothing to worry about. They won't be back, and if they have any sense of self-preservation they won't say anything, either."

She had a point, even if she did seem unaware of just how frightening she could be. Besides, if she wasn't going to accept his censure there was little he could do. She had no family and no job that he could influence, and no dwelling that he could find, so short of pulling his weight to get her removed from Ouran entirely, an action which far outweighed her offense, he couldn't do anything to her.

"I suggest you prepare yourself for guests," he said.

"Oh—" as if she'd forgotten her responsibilities— "Of course!"