How the Mighty have Fallen

Author’s note: Sorry for the very late update. Both a bit of a mental block and a death hindered my writing. Also, I am going to stop putting thoughts in quotes, don’t know what I was thinking. Many, many thanks to those who reviewed as it is much appreciated. As I do not remember which I replied to already, that is the reason behind my lack of personal thanks.


Slytherin, indeed… mused Hermione. The comment far from irritated her; it… actually, if she was honest with herself, pleased her and she smiled in Lucius’ general direction. If only they knew… she was pleased because she was deceiving the deceivers; beating them at their own game and, on the whole, had no qualms about being cunning and using her intellect to ensure her own self-preservation. Did that make her a coward? No, Hermione reasoned, it most certainly did not. Hermione’s smile broadened as her musings brought about a dawning sense of realization; it made her a Slytherin. But, above all it made her clever. She wouldn’t allow any guilt, however small, dissuade her from maintaining a successful cover so she may return to her own time.

The feast was drawing to a close when Hermione noticed that prat of a boy accompanied by a Professor; was it Professor McGonagall? So, he figured he could avoid apologizing by reporting her to a teacher she thought scathingly. Too bad he wasn’t getting the wand back, barring her enchantments being broken by a Professor, sans apology.


“Mr. Higgins tells me you are refusing to return his wand to his person,” McGonagall stated in a voice tinged with annoyance.


“Actually,” Hermione replied in an even voice, “that is untrue.”


Mark made an angry sound in his throat as protest but Professor McGonagall quieted him with a quelling look.


“I will return his wand as soon as I receive an apology,” Hermione continued.


“What has Mr. Higgins done that warrants an apology?” McGonagall questioned with a hint of exasperation.


Mr. Higgins was going to rue the day he thought he could outsmart Hermione Granger.


“I may be mistaken Professor, but in France it would be considered impolite to shout about girls knickers in public…. Although if it is custom to do so in England, I do apologize.” Hermione trailed slowly.


“Detention, Mr. Higgins, for inappropriate conduct and wasting my time.” McGonagall scolded, “Now, you will apologize to Miss…”


At McGonagall’s pointed look, Hermione helpfully supplied, “Dagworth.”


Although Mark looked anything but contrite he stated, “I am very sorry Miss Dagworth for my behavior and it shall not happen again.”


The last part was probably meant to mollify Professor McGonagall but neither believed those words to be sincere.


“That’s quite alright,” Hermione replied with false good cheer. She then proceeded to undo all of the counter-enchantments silently before summoning it with an audible, “accio Mr. Higgins wand.”

“Are you related to Hector Dagworth- Granger?” Lucius asked.


“Distantly,” she replied off-handedly.


“So, you’re a pure-blood then? Lucius pressed.


She was caught off guard by his forward approach and turned to look him in the eye.


“Yes, aren’t most Slytherins?” she queried to stall further inquiries into her fictional life.


“Many,” Lucius intoned, “but one never knows; better to ask than assume.” He replied seriously.


His bigoted nature was grating her nerves so she stood to leave and noticed Lucius standing as well. She hid her irritation with practiced resolve and excused herself politely, “If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with the Headmaster.”


“Miss Dagworth,” began Severus hurriedly, “he isn’t in the hall.”


“Pardon?” questioned a confused Hermione.


“The Headmaster,” Severus supplied helpfully.


“Allow me to accompany you to his office,” Lucius offered cordially.


“That won’t be necessary. But thank you for offering,” Hermione replied graciously, if a bit stiffly.


“But, you don’t know where it is,” Lucius coolly reasoned.



“I’m sure I can find it on my own,” supplied Hermione smartly.


“We don’t want to lose you already,” Lucius teased; “it is especially easy to lose your way when the staircases move,” he countered.


Realizing she was fighting a losing battle she agreed to allow him to lead the way.
“Alright, lead the way,” she replied with a hint of irritation.


“I knew you would see reason,” Lucius countered arrogantly with a hint of a smug smirk playing about his lips.


Men and Malfoys, Hermione thought, always so predictable; so when Lucius offered her his arm she looked every bit as flummoxed as she felt.

“Well,” he said ,as he raised his eyebrow in question, as he continued to present his arm.

With nothing for it, save ignoring the gesture, Hermione linked arms with the Head Boy while fervently trying to ignore the fact that she was touching him.


“Shouldn’t you be heading back, Severus?” Lucius chided.


“Yeah,” Severus muttered, “Bye.” Lucius doesn’t care what I do; thought Severus, he just wants to get the new girl to himself. Too bad she isn’t as keen on him as he her he reflected.

After four staircases of silence Lucius finally reached his breaking point. He cleared his throat; nothing, not even a flicker of a response. So he glanced at the girl to ensure she was still there which really was rather stupid considering he could literally feel her presence.

“I’ve noticed you have a British accent; did you move to France when you were eleven?” Lucius ventured tentatively.


Considering Hermione was absolutely sick of the covert glances, and would not be able to maintain her sanity for another three staircases if he continued to stare at her, she decided to humor him and answer his questions.


“I lived most of my life in England actually; we moved to France when I was fifteen. But, it was decided that I attend Hogwarts for my final year,” she finished.


“What do you think?” he questioned.


“About Hogwarts,” Hermione ventured and at his nod, “it’s nice; but it isn’t home.”


Not really knowing how to comfort a homesick girl, they continued the rest of the journey in amicable silence.


“Here we are,” Lucius said with a flourish when they reached the gargoyle statue on the seventh floor.
“Sugarquill,” he directed at the statue, which opened promptly. “The password,” he said knowingly.


“ I figured,” Hermione quipped dryly. Although she did mellow the bite of her words with a tiny smile as she stepped swiftly onto the staircase which proceeded to ascend. But before she could knock, Professor Dumbledore said, “ Come in Miss Dagworth.” He was always so omnipotent wasn’t he she thought ruefully; wait … Miss Dagworth, who told him?