Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Hermione Granger, or Neville Longbottom… etc.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your support. It's been a while since I've updated, thanks for your patience. Any comments or questions, feel free to pm me.

Part Eleven

"Neville, tell me you're not upset," Hermione said plaintively. It was the afternoon, and she was outside with her friend by the Great Lake.

"I can't do that," Neville sighed. "I mean - I wish I was there too."

"So let's go exploring, the two of us," Hermione urged him. "I bet there's hundreds of secret places left to find."

"Maybe another time," Neville said quietly.

"Well… remember when we talked about creating pranks? Aren't we going to do that together?" Hermione coaxed.

"What kind of prank?" Neville looked up slowly.

"Something elaborate," Hermione's eyes danced merrily. "Something that's never been seen before. What do you think?"

Neville slowly began to smile.

"I think I might like this idea."

Hermione had an amazing weekend, but she knew in the back of her mind that Zoe was sulking. Finally, on Sunday night, Hermione hurried into her bed, closing the canopy behind herself before flinging herself facedown, and having a quick mind chat with Zoe.

'What's going on with you?' Hermione demanded.

Nothing.

But Hermione eventually got it out of her. Neither of them could ever keep a secret for long from the other…

It was so amazing, getting to have control of this body, even if it was just for an hour, Zoe said wistfully. I miss it already. I'm just a watcher, doomed to never have a body - to never have any kind of control in life…

'Well, it is my body,' Hermione said angrily. 'You had a life, and I'm sorry, but this is my life to live.'

I know that, Zoe sounded miserable. But I'm just… not happy. And when I'm not happy, I know you have a hard time staying happy too. And sleeping, for that matter.

'That's literally emotional blackmail,' Hermione growled, but she knew Zoe was right. They were linked irrevocably, and if Hermione wanted to ever get some sleep - or simply deal with Zoe's paranoia - she would have to make some concessions.

I know, Zoe was unrepentant.

'So what do you want?'

I want some time in control. Definitely flying.

'All right,' Hermione agreed. 'You can have an hour three days a week to do some flying.'

Three hours a week? Zoe pleaded. That leaves you a hundred and sixty five hours. Think of the comparison.

'Think of the fact that I get to make the decisions,' Hermione reminded her sharply. 'I'll let you take over during homework time twice a week - that's two hours for each night. If you finish sooner, you can do what you like - within reason! - for the rest of that time.'

Great!

If Zoe were a puppy, Hermione figured she'd be wagging her tail right now.

'But anytime I'm with my friends, I want to be in control,' Hermione said authoritatively.

That's fine, Zoe said hurriedly. Can I go flying now?

'Sure,' Hermione sighed. 'I have finished my work already.'

She closed her eyes, relaxing, and letting Zoe take over.

"Where are you going?" Susan asked from where she was reading in her bed. Hermione had practically jumped out of her bed and begun to stretch her arms.

"Flying," Zoe said quickly.

"Oh! You have a broomstick?"

"I reckon I can get into the broom shed pretty easy," Zoe shrugged.

Susan's eyes widened.

"Really? I don't know if I should do that."

"There's could and would - should is a useless word," Zoe laughed.

Susan watched as Zoe headed out... And stopped in her tracks, halfway to the door.

"If you want to come," she said diplomatically. "You can take a turn on the one I grab. Or just ride with me."

But Susan's my friend! Hermione protested inwardly.

'I should get to scope our your friends too," Zoe thought smugly. 'Make sure they're good enough for you.'

They are, Hermione said, quite firmly.

'I know,' Zoe thought happily. 'With any luck, we'll be able to keep them.'

"Look at the crazy little mudblood. I hear she can't even use magic properly."

Hermione looked up from her book to see a miniature of Lucius Malfoy, followed by two chunky boys. They were all first years, if she remembered right.

"Why don't you get lost," Neville said angrily.

"Before we make you, Malfoy," Susan added.

Hermione stood slowly, looking straight into the boy's eyes. They were ice blue and sneering, but gave no hint of the coldness that his father's had always made her feel.

"Are you really looking to test that theory?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh please," mini Malfoy smirked and pulled out his wand. "I'm not scared of a filthy mudblood."

You think if we cut her open, she'll bleed mud?

She could still see Abby's body laying there. She couldn't look away.

Filthy, filthy mudblood.

Hermione's eyes rolled back.

Zoe growled and gripped her wand tighter.

"Say that. One more time."

Malfoy stepped closer, and she could feel his spit.

"You're a filthy mudbloo - "

He shot back twenty feet as Zoe's wand went off with a bang. The two other boys scrambled for their wands, but Zoe just waved her own, and their wands flew towards her, hitting each other with such force that they both snapped. Malfoy's cronies moaned in fright and ran.

She walked slowly towards Malfoy, who was trying to get up and find his wand.

"You know nothing, you stupid little boy."

Another swish, and with a dash of purple sparks, his robe was ripped from him, leaving him in trousers and a shirt.

"Ahh!" Malfoy cried, as his left arm was yanked forward. He could feel the pain of an invisible knife digging into his skin. He could only watch as angry red lines appeared on his left forearm… In the shape of a snake, wrapping around a skull.

"Is that what you want?" Hermione's eyes rolled, and she stepped in closer. "A baby wannabe death eater? You can't think of anything better to do than insult people with names that shouldn't mean anything?"

"No, what, no," Malfoy whined, finally ripping away his gaze from his own arm and looking up at her.

"Because that's what it comes down to," she whispered, for his ears alone. "You want to be like your father? Then go ahead, continue down this path. Or you can try to be yourself. I've got absolutely no use for clones. Prove to me you're not just a little snobby purist and we can get along. But you ever try to draw your wand on me, or use a single word against me or anyone else I like, then you've got a real problem on your hands."

She left him there, shocked and trembling. When she was a hundred yards away, she flicked her wand and he gasped as the red lines disappeared, and with it the pain.

Draco Malfoy now understood perfectly that Hermione Granger was not to be messed with.

"Hermione, what was that?" Neville asked quietly as they headed back to the castle.

"He needed a lesson," She shrugged, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "I hope for his sake he's learned it."

Susan grabbed her hand and squeezed it, ignoring the initial nervous twitch of Hermione's hand at her touch.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asked softly.

"Fine," Hermione nodded. "Let's find a better place to study, shall we?"

Neville sighed softly, and pushed something into Hermione's hand.

"You dropped this."

She glanced at it - the star rune, now completely gold. Why had it changed? And why had she kept it, really? If it was simply a rejuvenation spell as she'd thought, then it was presumably out of uses. It merited some further study, Zoe agreed.

Really, Hermione wasn't looking for trouble.

But there, in the corner, was little Megan Jones, cowered with three much older Slytherin boys leaning over her, one of them grabbing her wrist with his large hand.

"How about evening those odds a bit?" Hermione said loudly as she approached them.

Flint looked at her and laughed, not letting go of Megan.

"I guess its two for one, huh boys?"

"Looks more like three for one," Hermione smiled at them. Her wand was already out and ready. "Hey, Megan."

"Hermione," Megan breathed. "Y - you probably don't want to be here."

"Actually, I don't know where else I'd want to be. I'm just about to walk Megan to dinner."

"I don't think so," Higgs laughed. "The little mudblood is staying right here."

"That's the second time I've heard that word today," Hermione tilted her head. "And nope… Still not liking it. Funny, that. What did these ugly oafs want, Megan?"

"Hey!" Flint growled, reaching for his own wand. Higgs didn't bother, he just raised his fist and swung it towards Hermione...

Flick, flick, swish - the three boys were pinned to the wall, wands on the floor, arms above their heads.

"What did they want, Megan?"

"Everything," she whispered. "They wanted me to open my robe, and they hurt my wrist…"

Hermione hissed as she saw the bruise already forming on the girl's wrist.

"Bastards," she said succinctly. She held out a hand, and Megan took it gratefully. Hermione summoned their wands and easily broke them over her knee.

A few spells later, they were still hanging there, now in cut and tattered clothes, staring down at her in anger and shock.

"You ever so much as look at her the wrong way, or any other little girls for that matter, I will find you," Hermione said coolly. She walked Megan to dinner.

The little brunette clutched to her heroine, looking at her admiringly.

"Thank you so much, Hermione. How did you do that?"

Hermione gave her a disarming smile.

"I read a lot."

Neville watched his friend carefully throughout dinner. Megan was telling everyone how Hermione had stopped Flint and his cronies from hurting her. Hermione was smiling, but she was so worn out - Neville marveled that the others didn't seem to notice. Well, besides Susan, of course. The lines under Hermione's eyes seemed worse than usual, and when she spooned up her soup, her hand trembled ever so often.

He has read about magical exhaustion before, but this is the first time Neville thinks he has actually seen it. That magic he saw Hermione do on Malfoy - it was mostly wordless, and that was really advanced. It must have taken a lot of energy out of her. Not that she ever had much energy anyways. She never slept well.

"Hey, mind if I squeeze in?"

He looked up to see a smiling Harry Potter.

"Course not." Neville scooted over, and Harry sat down on his right.

"You're Neville?" Harry asked, looking straight at him.

"Yeah…"

"Hermione told me all about you," Harry grinned, and shook his hand warmly under the table, pushing up his glasses with his other hand. "Great to meet you."

Neville can't help but smile.

"I heard about Saturday night," he says softly to Harry, who nods and glances across to Hermione. She's engrossed in listening to something Susan's whispering in her ear.

"Best adventure I've ever had," Harry admits.

Neville hands him the pumpkin juice, and Harry smiles - he didn't even have to ask.

"Life with Hermione is a constant adventure," Neville chuckles, shaking his head.

Pomona Sprout regarded the Hufflepuff Table with a kind and watchful eye. This year's batch of first years was simply the most Hufflepuff she'd seen in all her years. They all stuck together so firmly, just a month in. True, only time would tell what might happen, but from everything she had seen, they were loyal to each other, and worked together superbly. Miss Bones had even brought together all of them to study together on Wednesdays and Sundays in the common room.

Her youngest badgers had seemed to already form into smaller, close-knit friendship groups - all duos and trios. Nobody was left alone. They were all sweet and interesting in their own way, but the most intriguing trio certainly was Miss Granger, Miss Bones, and Mr. Longbottom.

Pomona had heard tales from the other professors about Miss Granger's strange magical prowess that had funny visual side effects - purple sparks or light, as Minerva and Filius told it. But in Herbology, she worked quickly and comfortably, coordinating with Miss Bones and Mr. Longbottom so easily it seemed like magic.

There was a connection there that nothing could stop, Pomona thought fondly as she watched Miss Granger reach across the table and grab - was that Mr. Potter's hand?

Sure enough, Mr. Potter and the youngest Mr. Weasley were sitting with her youngest badgers this evening. Pomona watched carefully, and saw how easily they interacted with her own. They spoke mostly with Ms Granger and Mr Longbottom.

How on earth had they met? She had never seen them partner up in Herbology. Yet they seemed close already… Professor Sprout beamed at the show of inter-house unity.

She was so absorbed in watching her first years that the first scream came as a shock.

"Oh my God!" Mr. Avery stood up, scrambling away from the table. "That's blood!"

Two sixth year Slytherin girls shrieked too. Even from the distance, Professor Sprout could see the blood on their lips.

There was quite a bit of panic at the Slytherin table - it seemed that at least half the table had blood in their goblets - and on their plates. One girl grabbed her bowl and flung it away.

The bowl smashed on the wall - and as the blood ran down the wall, it slithered horizontally, forming words…

It is the same color as yours… Do you like having it on your hands?

Ilsa Avery shrieked over at the Ravenclaw table, fleeing from the Hall. Many heads turned to watch her go. Even as she ran, her robes seemed to melt away, leaving blood on her and on the floor.

Through the commotion, Professor Sprout was able to register that the students effected had all said something purist in her classes… And the worst of those effected were known bullies.

Somehow her head turned away from the screaming students and back to her table - the only table where nobody was effected. The youngest badgers stared in horror and mixed amusement at the sight. Longbottom's head turned to focus on something, and Pomona followed his example.

She glanced at Miss Granger just in time to see her flick her wand slightly.

The screaming died down instantaneously. The 'blood' was all gone, replaced with the normal drinks and food. Professor Sprout turned back to watch Miss Granger, who was tucking away her wand and smiling as she picked up her fork.

A chill ran down Pomona Sprout's spine.

What was she to do now?