Bab 25: Chapter 25
"Charlotte."
She turned. It was Harry.
"May I borrow you for a moment?"
"Oh, of course, please excuse me," she said to the slightly disappointed group.
Harry led her over to the food table.
She felt that tingly sensation again when he touched her arm. She felt her face flush.
"How are you doing?"
"Managing. It's actually not as bad as I thought it would be. Most seem shocked anyone 'my age' can quote from the magical canon."
Harry snickered. "There's a chance I may have over prepared you. But that's the point. I wasn't joking when I said you have the potential to become one of the greatest witches ever. And as your new friend over there said," he nodded to the second wizard in the group, "many people feel they can get by on large explosions, and puffs of smoke."
She nibbled on a pastry thing. Harry had damn good hearing.
"Anyway, I'll be right back. I have to take care of something," and with that, he fled.
Strange.
"Hello, Miss Timberland."
Hermione turned. She was being addressed by a girl. A really pretty girl, with long blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. She must be about her age…. Was she normally really that small?
"Hello Miss…?" She let the question hang in the air.
"Greengrass, Heiress of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass." The newly declared Heiress Greengrass stared up into her eyes.
Of all the wizards and witches she'd met tonight, she'd yet to feel a more calculating gaze. She felt she was being sized up, weighed, and judged. Two months of drills and training instantly processed the input and short wired the appropriate response straight to her mouth.
"Heiress Greengrass, thank you and your family for hosting tonight's festivities. And thank you for extending an invitation to a foreign witch such as myself."
"Nonsense. You are a guest of Lord Slytherin. Any guest of his lordship is a guest of House Greengrass." The young witch smiled. "I do find myself wondering though, just how well you know his lordship."
She stared at the young pureblood heiress. A girl the same age as her and Harry. The daughter of the Lord who was hosting the party Harry was using for his political games. The wheels spun.
"He is my teacher. He has taught me many things."
"You are lucky, Miss Timberland. Lord Slytherin is an amazing person."
"I know that."
"I would hate him to put his trust in someone who may not truly understand his value."
She bristled at that. "I do understand his value," she said, the last word dripping with distaste. "He's one of the most amazing wizards of his generation. He can do things many adult wiz—" she clapped a hand over her mouth, appalled at the words that slipped out.
Greengrass smiled a stony smile, but ignored her slip. "The fact that you are still comparing him to 'those of his generation,' shows you still don't truly appreciate his value."
Hermione tried to compose herself.
"But don't let it get to you," Greengrass continued, "You really are doing amazingly well. I can see why he's putting so much effort into you."
Hermione didn't respond. She didn't dare herself to speak.
"I hope to meet you again soon, before our paths inevitably cross in a more permanent fashion."
Hermione watched the annoyingly precocious blonde walk away. She felt she'd just been received a massive backhanded compliment. What had the little witch meant? That she might not appreciate Harry? Rubbish. She'd completed every piece of work Harry had ever given her, often ahead of time, and always to his satisfaction.
Lost in thoughts, she failed to notice her teacher's presence until he was right on her.
"Knut for your thoughts."
"Ack!" She jumped, breathing heavily, "Don't do that!"
Harry, still wearing his emerald green mask, snickered. "You ready for the next round?" he asked, waving towards the groups of wizards and witches still milling throughout the grand-ballroom of Greengrass Manor. "You're creating quite a stir, you know. Everyone wants to know where such a beautiful, well-mannered, and cultured witch sprang from."
She blushed.
"Sure. Okay."
Face still flushing from the unknown feeling rushing through her, she let herself be led across the floor to another group. Despite her recent slip, she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She was doing well, and Harry was happy with her.
Back in her ten-year-old body, Hermione stood in front of her desk mirror, and thought about that night.
The feelings that had rampaged through her all-night had been scary. She'd felt she wasn't in control of her own mind or body. Every other thought would stray towards Harry. Not for any good reason that she could identify. Just because.
The blonde's comments hadn't helped.
As soon as she'd arrived home, wearing her standard jeans and t-shirt, she'd grabbed, and re-read, the book on puberty her parents had gifted her a year ago. The first time through, she'd understood what was being said at an intellectual level, but the difference between that and living it was as large as the difference between the river and the ocean.
The feelings were slowly fading back into nothingness. But she understood she'd been given a taste. And that was the taste of a twenty-two-year-old, when the throes of puberty were supposed to be over. What was it going to be like in the next few years?
She shivered.
A week ago, the idea of living in a castle, full of other witches and wizards, with Harry, seemed like a dream. Now it seemed like a plot to drive her insane. But, even if her body was no longer pumping hormones, her mind still remembered the feeling. It remembered that at some deep level, she'd enjoyed it, and wanted it.
She shook her head, and, like a good student, switched focus to the next few weeks.
Soon, Harry would start teaching her magic. Real magic. There was almost a whole year left before Hogwarts started, and she'd be getting her letter in just a few weeks. Her parents would then find out about magic. That scared her, but Harry would be there for her. Her parents liked Harry. And Harry… she was pretty sure Harry liked them too…
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