5: Top Box Pure-Bloods

AN: Just some clarification on the System. The System does provide Atlas with boosts to his skills and stats. It doesn't really make increasing those skills any easier (except for with perks and quests) but it does make the skills more natural to use (kinda like inherent muscle memory) and more potent. It also scales exponentially (kinda). So as the skill gets higher, the effect of it will be greater than the number portrays. This also applies to the XP required to level up though. Generally, higher number=less multi-level increases and more time between level-ups.

Also, on the topic of XP, I'm not using concrete numbers or anything like an actual game. If you're familiar with DnD, the XP system in this story is similar to Milestone XP in that. Basically, this means that level-ups happen when the story calls for them. I'm working hard to keep it balanced though because this isn't an 'instantly OP' type of story. As the title says, part of its whole purpose is 'The Grind'.

And as quick side note to end this AN, Atlas won't be harem-protagonist-level dense. He does notice the reactions of others, especially as his Perception goes up. After all, in chapter 4, he does notice that Septima is trying to ask him out, he's just a little slow with that realization. But this slight 'density' is in character for Atlas. He's not a social creature. His Social Skill is the lowest of his skill categories. He's a bookworm/nerd at heart, dedicated to learning magic. He's getting better at the Social skills but sometimes I need him to be a bit dense for story/humor purposes.

IIIII

Despite the twins' rush, our group — me, Heather, Hermione, Padfoot, and the Weasleys — made it to the Top Box well before the game started. We even caught up to the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, thanks to his obvious exhaustion. Fudge was still breathing heavily when he reached the Box and began conversing with another important-looking, government official type.

From the look of thinly veiled disgust on his face, the other man looked like he'd rather be talking to anyone else. I couldn't blame him… I wouldn't want a pasty, old white guy panting in my face either.

Other than Fudge and the other official — who I overheard being addressed as Minister of Bulgaria — the Top Box was practically empty. Its only other resident was a House Elf, shaking like a leaf in the wind next to a suspiciously empty seat. Did the Top Box offer House-Elf-express?

We took our seats. I ended up at the end of the group's seating, next to Hermione and Heather, with Heather sitting closest to me. The suspiciously empty chair and the House Elf occupying it were on my other side. That arrangement stayed persistently in the back of my mind for some reason. Something about the empty seat was bothering me and I couldn't figure out why… It was almost as if the air in the seat was looking at me intently and, dare I say, nostalgically…?

A question from Heather grabbed my attention before I could worry about it more though, "So… Atlas, was it? Why'd Dumbledore send you?"

"Huh?" My gaze was torn from the empty seat and directed at the Girl-Who-Lived. "Oh, I don't really know, to be honest. I'm the newest and youngest member of the Hogwarts staff. Albus seemed to think this was a task more fit for me than someone like Professor Snape."

Heather shuddered viscerally at my mention of the Potions Professor, "Ugh… Thanks for that then. I don't even know you but I'd take a hundred of you over Snape."

"I figured as much," I nodded. "His hatred for you was famous even amongst the upper years…"

"The worst part is I don't think it's just hatred…" Heather admitted in a hushed whisper, disgust clear on her face.

"You're a Professor? That's very impressive for someone so young!" Hermione said, thankfully changing the subject off of Snape.

I waved my hand in a so-so motion, "Eh, Assistant Professor. And only to pay my way as I pursue my Masteries. I graduated just this year and decided to continue my education. I'm just lucky Albus was willing to give me a shot."

"Hey, how about that, Hermione~?" Heather shot her bookish friend a knowing side-eye and grin. "Maybe our chaperone here will be nice enough to help you study this year~?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "It's my job. And it'd be a privilege to tutor the smartest witch of her generation. You know, Professor McGonagall still talks about you, even over the summer?"

Hermione blushed at my praise and an almost silly little smile appeared on her face, "I-Is that so?"

"Yeah, she's very proud of you. Kinda makes me want to see what all the hype is about." I said innocently.

Hermione reddened further and Heather's grin just grew, "Oh, yes, I see many late-night study sessions in the future for you two… Hot~ Sweaty~ Study sessions~ Maybe I'll even have to join sometime~?"

Hermione looked scandalized by her friend's teasing, "Heather! You don't have to be so crass!"

Heather shrugged, "I'm just sharing what I see with my inner eye. Don't get mad at the messanger~"

An embarrassed huff escaped Hermione, "Honestly, I wish you'd drop Divination, Heather."

"Hey, you're the one who convinced me to take Ancient Runes last year," Heather said, her grin turning unrepentantly mischievous. "That means I need the blow-off class to work on the homework. Divination is great for that because half the time, Trelawney is passed out drunk, and the other half, she's too hungover to do anything more than a tea reading."

I winced at the honesty in that statement, "Yeah, there's a reason I was never interested in Divination."

"What were your favorite subjects?" Hermione asked, eagerly taking an interest in me for some reason.

"Charms, Transfiguration, Runes, and Arithmancy," I recounted easily. "I would count Defense in that selection if we had any worthwhile teachers other than Professor Lupin for the subject. As is, most of my Defense knowledge is self-taught."

Strangely enough, Padfoot perked up at my mention of Professor Lupin and barked. Heather also seemed to perk up a bit. Maybe she was close to him?

"Those are some of my favorite subjects too! P-Perhaps Heather is right and you could t-tutor us in Ancient Runes…?"

"Hot~ Sweaty~ Late-night~ Study sessions~" Heather singsonged.

Hermione swatted her friend on the arm for her teasing. I could see what Heather was trying to do. I'd have to be blind not to. She was trying to set Hermione up with me, playing the best wingman a 16-year-old girl could; complete with blatant innuendo. I just couldn't figure out why.

I wasn't necessarily against this development. Hermione was as blindingly attractive as Heather or even Septima were. And we seemed to share an enthusiasm for learning and interest in the same kinds of magic. And I wasn't their teacher… yet.

I couldn't deny that there was a certain pull attracting me to Hermione. It had begun when we'd locked eyes on the stairs and time seemed to freeze. Like my magic was calling out for hers, it had grown throughout our conversation. I had no idea if she felt it as well or if I was feeling a connection that wasn't there. I didn't think I was, considering the mysterious System notification that accompanied the start of this all.

There was a similar attraction to Heather. It was to a much lesser extent though. And it was almost as if it was muffled or something. Or split two ways? Like there was a connection with Heather herself but it was struggling against something perverse and corrupted… A parasite on her soul that even the dark nature of my magic was repulsed by…

I knew I was reaching there, letting the pretentious, flowery part of my mind spin a story as if it was thread. I'd always had an active imagination.

I had no idea what to make of the feelings of attraction I felt toward the two girls. I couldn't even tell if there really was something else, something magical, there or if I was just attracted to them in a much more mundane sense. Maybe my brain was still caught up on the implication Septima and I left off on and so I was grasping at straws with two more attractive Witches as some strange form of compensation?

Either way, I was content to let Heather flirt on Hermione's behalf. The Girl-Who-Lived wasn't what I had been expecting. She was laid back and easy to talk to, with a vicious teasing streak when it came to her friends. It wasn't as if I was expecting her to be stuck up and arrogant but this was still a pleasant surprise. I could honestly see myself getting along with her just as I could Hermione. Ron, though… was another matter entirely.

I knew about the 'Golden Trio' in passing from my time at Hogwarts. But seeing it up close gave me a very different picture than the rumors I'd heard. Ron was the clear third wheel here. It was as if Heather and Hermione only barely tolerated him and the fact that he was constantly hanging around them despite that was telling.

Heather and Hermione had fixated on me when we sat down (a fact that did things to an ego that I didn't know I had…) and Ron was quickly pushed to the side and forgotten about. Something that had him visibly seething in his seat. His glare toward me hadn't dropped for a single second and was now being interspersed with strangely jealous and possessive glances at the two girls that a large part of me didn't like at all.

Thankfully, the next arrivals to the Top Box redirected Ron's hatred away from me. A platinum blond man, obviously Pure-Blood, and his wife and son entered the box. The man immediately went to schmooze and suck up to Fudge. His wife stood next to him, the picture of Pure-Blood perfection.

To be fair, though, she was a vision of perfection. Just not one I was accustomed to. She was elegance and pompous regality personified, with the looks and body to back up her better-than-thou air. And… I couldn't help but notice a bit of resemblance between her and me. Her hair was two-toned, white and black like my own. And I could've sworn I saw those same cheekbones every time I looked in the mirror…

I shook off the feeling of familiarity for the Pure-Blooded wife. The resemblance wasn't strong enough for me to consider her to be my mystery mother. Maybe an aunt or cousin but my gut feeling was that I hadn't come directly from her loins. All Pure-Bloods are related in some way or another, right?

The son of the obviously Pure-Blooded family wasn't paying attention to his father as he kissed the Minister's ass. Instead, he'd taken up position on the second tier of seats in the Top Box and was looking down his nose at our group, smirking smugly as if he was better just because he was a foot higher than us. Ron's hatred was instantly directed at the boy, who I guessed was a familiar foe for the Golden Trio.

"Malfoy," The redheaded boy spat.

"Weasel," The blond spat right back. "Potter. Mudblood. Funny seeing-…"

"Hey, that's uncalled for," I cut in at Hermione's defense, knowing he wasn't referring to me. "I don't even know you. Is it really necessary to call me a slur?"

"What?" The blond, Malfoy, looked flustered at being interrupted, noticing me for what seemed to be the first time. "I wasn't talking to-… No, who are you? Has the Girl-Who-Lived picked up another ill-bred mutt?"

"I wouldn't say that…" I hedged with a slight grin. Let's see if my raised Perception had read him correctly. "If anything I picked her up. I'm the adult in our relationship after all."

Ron and the Malfoy scion both gaped at me, sharing a common brain cell for a second. Then anger, utter redheaded fury, flashed in Ron's eyes and an odd look of hurt flashed in Malfoy's. Heather giggled at their expressions so much that she fell against me, further selling my misleading little white lie to both of them. Hermione saw through what I was doing almost instantly and joined her best friend in a giggle fit.

Heather and I did have a relationship… Just not a romantic one, seeing as I was only her chaperone and we'd just met. Something Ron should have known so I didn't feel too bad for him. He was here when I introduced myself to them, for God's sake. Why was he so pissed?

As for the blond Pure-Blood, I think he harbored some feelings for Heather that he was ashamed of. Maybe he hadn't even acknowledged them himself. Oh well, he was a dick. I'd only known him a minute and I could already tell that much. Honestly, he reminded me of a schoolboy with a crush, which fit with the image of how sheltered Pure-Bloods were in my mind.

The look of emotional damage in his eyes was quickly smothered, repressed, rejected, and turned into vitriolic scoff, "Of course. It makes perfect sense that a Muggle-loving traitor like Potter would date someone who looks barely better than a Muggle. Or maybe he's some kind of Dark creature. He certainly looks skinny and scruffy enough to be a werewolf."

That actually made me frown slightly. I wasn't scruffy. And he was even skinnier than me!

"Tell me, Potter, does he have some beastlike nature that he lets out in the bedroom? Is that why you keep him around?" The Malfoy scion continued.

Oh… Ooooh… I think his repressed crush mixed with his loathing and made this into some weird fetish thing. And he didn't even realize he was projecting onto a nonexistent relationship… I cringed. I cringed hard. Heather and Hermione weren't far behind.

"Be silent, Draco," The Malfoy Matriach ordered, having been drawn over to us by the commotion. "You're embarrassing yourself."

Suitably chastised by his mother, Draco fell quiet. She then turned her attention to me, "Boy. Who are your parents?"

Padfoot, Heather's shaggy black dog, woofed at the question. The Malfoy wife's eyes darted to it, some form of recognition that I couldn't identify shining in them.

I answered her with a shrug, "I don't rightly know. I was left at an orphanage when I was young. I'm Atlas White, by the way. Recent Hogwarts graduate and newly employed Assistant Professor. So nice of you to ask politely and not introduce yourself."

You could have cut yourself on the sharp sarcasm in my tone. I had no patience for Pure-Bloods like this woman or her husband or her son. She, of course, took my sarcasm in stride with the grace of a woman who lived and breathed the art of conversation. She did glance at Padfoot again and the dog looked almost… sheepish?

"The resemblance is uncanny…" She whispered to herself, before raising her voice to call over her husband. "Lucius, come here, please. Do you see what I see?"

Lucius, her husband, didn't look happy to be called away from kissing the Minister's ass but made his excuse and exit from that conversation all the same. He looked slightly put out as he made his way over to us but directed his attention where his wife indicated all the same. When he saw me, his eyes sharpened considerably.

By this point, almost all of us were lost. The only ones who seemed to be on the same page were the two older Pure-Bloods and seemingly the… dog…?

"My my, boy, where have you been all of your life?" Lucius asked, his voice a study of condescending curiosity.

I didn't really know how to answer that, "Uh… A Muggle orphanage…? And then Hogwarts?"

"What a shame that someone of your… quality… was raised by mere animals…" He tutted as if he was disappointed. "I can already tell you would have done great things if you were raised right."

Padfoot growled at the older Pure-Blood as if the dog took great offense to his words. He took up a position at my side, haunches raised and teeth bared.

"I think I did pretty good for myself in life," I said defensively. "Even with no support, I graduated with honors from Hogwarts and even managed to get a job as Assistant Professor."

Lucius sneered at Padfoot, seemingly ignoring my words, "You should keep your mutt on a tighter leash, boy."

Padfoot wasn't mine but I wasn't about to tell this asshole that. Who knew what would happen if he learned that Padfoot potentially belonged to the Girl-Who-Lived… I was here to protect Heather. I wasn't going to drag her into whatever problem Lucius had with me. I had a feeling he already had more than enough reason to hate her…

Suddenly, the Minister interjected him into the conversation, trying to de-escalate the situation before it potentially evolved to violence, "Now, Lucius, let's keep things civil. There is no need to concern yourself with the rabble. After all, we have guests at the moment…"

Lucius sniffed haughtily, "Of course, Cornelius. Though, perhaps next time you should be more thorough with screening entry to this venerated seating area. We wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea about the company you keep, yes?"

Fudge laughed awkwardly, glancing at the other Minister of Magic in the Box, "A wonderful suggestion, Lucius. I shall take it into consideration for future events such as this."

With that, the two opposing groups in the Top Box naturally segregated themselves. The Ministers and Pure-Blood family took the upper tier of seating. Fudge and Lucius seemed content to act like the rest of us weren't even there. Though I did see something that looked like a sympathetic expression cross the Bulgarian Minister's face and the other two Malfoys continued to glance our way periodically — the mother with curiosity in her eyes and Draco with poorly repressed jealous loathing.

The Weasleys and Heather's party — including me — turned back forward in the lower half of the Top Box. The adult Weasleys looked relieved that things hadn't escalated any further. The younger Weasleys still looked ready and willing to throw down. The twins and the youngest female Weasley whose name I still didn't know had a certain glint in their eyes that told me they were dangerous and held more than a tiny grudge. Even Ron looked willing to throw down if it came to that, maybe not on my behalf but against the Pure-Bloods all the same.

Hell, Heather and Hermione had actually drawn their wands discreetly at some point. They clutched them tightly at their sides, seemingly eager to jump to my defense… Or maybe just curse some confrontational asshole Pure-Bloods. I could sympathize with the sentiment, absently fingering my own wand in my pocket.

Still, the tension in the Box gradually decreased from the brink of violence to more of an uncomfortable simmer. The upper tier acted as if they were ignoring us and we did the same in return. Lucius went back to brown-nosing and conversation eventually picked back up amongst our group as well.

"What was that all about?!" Hermione asked me in a sort of hissed whisper, leaning over Heather to get closer to me.

I laughed incredulously, "Would you believe me if I said I had no idea?"

Hermione bit her lip in a way that was distractingly appealing, "… Yes. But it almost sounded like they knew you somehow…"

"Eh, don't worry about them," Heather advised. "The Malfoys are always assholes."

"Language, Heather," Hermione gently chided. "Even if I agree…"

I remained silent and the two girls fell into another topic of conversation, leaving me to think. Heather said not to worry but I couldn't help it. Hermione was right. It did seem like they knew me or at least thought they knew something more about me. My parentage perhaps…? And then there was the strangely Human way Padfoot was acting. I didn't know what to make of that either.

Not long after, magically enhanced horns and cannon blasts signaled the start of the game. I took that as my cue to distract myself with something else. The shrunken book in my pocket was retrieved and enlarged. I opened it and picked up where I'd left off as the men in the Box went wild for some reason.

"Aren't you distracted?" Hermione asked.

I didn't look up from my book, "By what?"

"By them," Hermione waved at something on the field, drawing my attention out of the corner of my eye.

Sighing, I looked up and to where she'd indicated. While I was reading, a group of women made their way onto the field. They reminded me of Muggle cheerleaders but to the repressed Wizarding World, they must have been practically succubi.

Each one was rapturously beautiful, a fact made clearer by the Jumbotron-like screens that displayed closer views of them. They danced around the field as the players did their warm-up laps, moving like sex incarnate and generally hyping up the crowd.

Scandalously short skirts swished with each twirl and spin. Wide expanses of exposed cleavage bounced and jiggled as they moved. Smiles that could match art's greatest masterpieces were practically glued across the women's faces, never wavering as they twisted and turned for the crowd's enjoyment. And… something magical… seemed to pour off of them, enticing Wizards and Witches alike in the crowd and further enhancing the cheerleaders' beauty.

"Huh… cool. Veela cheerleaders are a thing…" I said with mild interest before shrugging and going back to my book. I wasn't about to be distracted from the Grind by some silly Allure from hundreds of meters away.

"That's it?" Hermione muttered to herself in surprise. I didn't see the glances she exchanged with Heather and the youngest Weasley, or the one she sent Ron's way only to see him literally drooling and trying to throw himself over the edge of the Top Box.

"What are you reading?" She asked once it became clear I wasn't going to look back up at the Veela cheerleaders.

"Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms," I answered absently. "I'm trying to think of a more practical way to use Runes on a personal level. Maybe some sort of magical Runic tattoo…?"

That was true but not the only reason I was reading this magical text. I was also hoping to use it to get the last level I needed in Magical Theory for my Wandless Magic quest. Still, my distracted explanation piqued Hermione's interest.

"Ancient Runes?" Hermione asked. "I haven't heard of that book before. It wasn't in the required textbooks for class…"

I did my best to continue the conversation as I read, "It wouldn't be. This is a post-OWL-level text. It's used as optional supplemental material for the NEWT classes of Ancient Runes."

"Fascinating," Hermione marveled. "May I read along with you?"

"What? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess. Knock yourself out," I said, only paying a little bit of attention to her. I was mostly engrossed in a particularly interesting passage on the long-lasting effects of magical Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs in tombs.

I was so engrossed that I didn't see Hermione glance at the rest of our group and see them otherwise occupied with the actual start of the game. Seeing this, she shuffled her way past Heather to my side. Heather didn't seem to mind, absorbed in silly broom-bound acrobatics.

I didn't see the little bite Hermione gave her lower lip either. But I certainly felt what she did next. She practically molded herself to my side, getting close enough that I could feel her heartbeat speed up. Still, I didn't look up from my book and she soon joined me, basically reading over my shoulder.

"So close…" I mumbled to myself. I could feel the next level of Magic Theory looming on the metaphorical horizon.

Hermione jumped slightly, startled by my whisper, "S-Sorry! I can move if you want!"

"What?" I asked distractedly. "No, you're fine where you are. I was referring to the text. I feel as if I'm close to a breakthrough…"

"S-So you don't mind this position?" Hermione asked. She sounded nervous. I couldn't guess why.

"No, just hush. I need to focus," Perhaps my response was a little rude but Hermione didn't seem to mind, huddling even closer to me to try and see what I saw in the text.

"This is amazing," Hermione mumbled in awe. "I wasn't even aware there were Runic languages other than Elder Futhark in use today…"

"Hermione, shhh," I chided her again, more gently this time.

She obeyed at first but it wasn't long before she lost control of her tongue again in her excitement. She gasped, "There are magical hieroglyphs on the bottoms of the Pyramids?!"

I sighed. This wasn't working. I couldn't focus with Hermione continuing to make adorable but distracting exclamations. It was time to switch tactics.

Holding my book open with one hand, my other arm wrapped itself around Hermione's waist. She squeaked in surprise but I ignored it. Lifting my book, I repositioned her by pulling her into my lap. Her marvelous behind was planted firmly on my crotch but surprisingly, I found I could focus better this way.

"If you will not be quiet, I will have to read to you aloud. Please keep all of your questions until the end of the lecture. Class is now in session, Hermione," I declared, trying to imitate the stern, strict atmosphere that Septima brought to teaching.

I felt a shiver of something run through Hermione's body and it almost sounded like she let out a little whine of need. I did feel her push herself back into my embrace. Thankfully, with her now quiet, I was able to once again focus on the Grind, now training my Teaching Discipline as well. Because as good as she felt in my lap, the Grind wouldn't wait for horniness… Other than when I finally got around to purposefully training Seduction, of course.

I picked up where I left off in the book, now reading aloud. I also stopped to explain my thought process as I read. Hopefully, that would give Hermione a better basis in Ancient Runes than just listening to me read a text verbatim. It was also doing wonders for my own comprehension of the material. I could practically feel the XP streaming into my System.

The game continued around us but Hermione and I were lost in our own little world. All that mattered was the book in front of us and furthering our understanding of magic. Well… the way she occasionally shifted in my lap mattered as well but I was able to keep my reaction from becoming physical thanks to the progress I was making in the Grind.

And I was making progress. Quite a bit of it. Notifications appeared in my vision and were dismissed as I pushed myself farther and farther down the road of the Grind, bringing a student along with me. That was how we spent the entirety of the World Cup's final game. And as the snitch was caught, the notification I'd been waiting for popped up.

< +1 to Magic Theory for Your Increased Understanding of Ancient Runes >

< Magic Theory 59+1=60/100 >

< +4 to Teaching for Effectively Teaching a Student Advanced Material >

< Teaching 28+4=32/100 >

< +3 to Seduction for Recreating One of Hermione's Greatest Fantasies >

< Seduction 30+3=33/100 >

< +1 to Soul for Deepening Your ??? With Hermione >

< Soul: 25+1=26/100+ >

The Grind had never tasted so sweet…