Chapter One – Hangover from Honeyduke's

"If any of you believe that it was my idea to combine years in a single potions class, you are mistaken. 5th year Gryffindors are bad enough – when they are paired with 4th years, I start to get aneurisms."

Hermione and Ginny shared a grin. Snape's chiding was somewhat funny, albeit its snarky undertones. The class was a trial of a new regime at Hogwarts. After some animosity between years (mainly involving an uprising in the Slytherin dungeons that involved a nose being hexed off, shredded boxers and the explosion of an antique couch), Dumbledore had experienced (yet another) spark of insanity and decided to have classes shared between years. Suffice to say, Snape was less than pleased, especially after noticing the animated conversations between many students, namely the normally studious Hermione Granger and one of those Weasleys.

Potions was a complete mess – one of the first unsuccessful classes in Hermione's whole school career. Unfortunately, just as Ginny and Hermione had reached the most precarious and intricate eighth step of the Scouring Draught, Ginny nearly upended the table. "LOOK!" she said in loud whisper, pointing frantically at a gossip article in the Witch Weekly nestled in her lap, in the process dropped the stir stick into the potion and accidentally pushing half of the ingredients into the cauldron. But before Hermione could check out the unsightly photos leaked of one of the Weird Sister's boyfriends, Snape was upon them.

"All I see Ms. Weasley," he sneered, the hint of a sneer visible on his pale face, "is a ruined potion." With that, he vanished the contents of the cauldron. "No marks for you two," he said wickedly, a smirk playing on his lips. Ginny just shrugged, but Hermione looked slightly shocked.

"No… marks?" she said in a small voice. Snape, to her misfortune, had overheard.

"Yes Ms. Granger," he growled. "And 10 points from Gryffindor."

Several Slytherins laughed mockingly, Malfoy shooting Hermione an arrogant smirk. She gave an exasperated huff and flounced out of the classroom. Ginny looked after her, slightly confused.

"But Hermione, what about the Weird Sisters?"

The next morning before classes, Hermione slumped onto the couch in the common room, next to Ginny. "I can't believe I got a zero," she groaned .

"Hey! Are you trying to make me feel bad? I know you're used to getting Os and all that, but for the rest of us…." Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and dug into her bag, pulling out a half eaten bar of chocolate from the detritus of papers and hasty notes in her bag. "I bet some of Honeyduke's finest might cheer you up!" she said, waving the chocolate enticingly. Hermione shook her head, still rather put off. Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "All the more for me then." She stuffed it into her mouth with abandon.

"Ginny," Hermione began carefully.

"Mmpf?"

"Maybe today you shouldn't, you know, bring your Witch Weeklys and candy and junk to class… so we could try to brew a respectable potion…" There was a considerable pause.

"You tell me now! The chocolate is eaten 'Mione! And I am getting hyper!"

Hermione was dreading Double Potions. Why, why, why did it have to be second, leaving Ginny no recovery time from her Honeyduke's? Ginny was anything but immune from chocolate – it was impossible to have a coherent conversation with her, let alone brew a sophisticated potion after she had gorged herself on it. Hermione was dreading Potions so much that History of Magic actually seemed to fly by. When Binns finished a seemingly miniscule lecture on troll revolts in the 1400s, she actually felt disappointed. Oh, this was not going to be good. Sure enough, by the time Ginny had entered the classroom, she managed to almost topple a cauldron and tripped several times on her way to her seat.

"Oi! What's your sister been drinking mate?" Harry asked Ron, amused. Ron looked up from Snape's essay, which he had conveniently left for the beginning of class, and stared at his sister with dread. "Oh Merlin," he whispered. "Don't tell me someone gave her chocolate."

By the end of class, it was clear to everyone that Ginny Weasly should never, ever have chocolate. "Eff, eff, EFF!" Hermione breathed to herself as she was packing up her books after her worst Potions ever.

"Oh, so little Goody-two-shoes Granger is finally failing Potions?"

"Go away Malfoy!"

"That the best you can do? Ah well, you're probably pretty pissed at that Weasel for spilling your potion on Snape… but it was you who put the ingredients wrong in the first place, Mudblood."

"Don't call me that! And it wasn't my fault – If I hadn't restrained Ginny she would have wrecked the entire classroom!"

"More like she would've raced over to the Slytherin side of class. I heard that stupid Blood Traitor was just drooling to give me and Zabini lap dances…. We're irresistible, right Granger?"

"Shut up! You conceited, arrogant, big-headed, vain, egotistical, pretentious, shallow-!" Before she could finish her tirade of insults, he had slipped out the doors. She looked down. The ferret had spelled her bag, leaving it split down the middle, the contents spilling out.

"MALFOY, YOU GIT!"

"Language, Ms. Granger," said a silky voice. "Oh, and that'll be another 10 points from Gryffindor."
Hermione rushed to collect her spilled items, still muttering furiously under her breath.

Ginny aimlessly twisted her quill in Divination. Even by her standards, Potions had been, well, dreadful. She didn't know what was worse: losing a total of about 50 points for Gryffindor, spilling a shrinking solution (it was supposed to be a weightless drought, but the steps were rather botched…) all over Snape or landing herself and Hermione in three weeks of detention. Ginny had never seen Snape so angry. Admittedly, his livid, blotchy face had looked comical when he was about 4 inches tall, but on a full size Snape, it had looked utterly terrifying. Just the thought of that incensed expression made Ginny shiver.

"Seeing any visions, my dear? Feeling those clairvoyant vibrations?" Trelawney asked, her misty tones jolting Ginny out of her thoughts.

"Erm, yes Professor," Ginny said, not really thinking.

"Really! What do you see, Ms. Weasley?"

"I'm going to fail Potions and spend my life in perpetual detention with Snape."

"You have the true makings of a Seer, Ms. Weasley…"

"Due to the fact that some of the students," Snape glared pointedly at Ginny and Hermione, who squirmed in their seats, "feel the need to disrupt class…. We will be switching seats. Permanently," he said, voice stony. "I have made seating arrangements that should result in a hopefully more productive class." He stopped, looking pensive. "Though you can never tell with Gryffindors; all brawn and no brains, you know," he drawled, generating some snickers from the Slytherins. "Very well," he said, snapping his fingers. A sheet of parchment flew to him, covered with neat script. "Let's see…," he said, reading off the list. "Potter and Parkinson." Hermione gave Harry a glance of sympathy. "Warrington and Mr. Weasley." Ron grumbled as he trudged toward the empty seat next to the hulking Slytherin. "Zabini and Weasly." Malfoy sneered at Hermione. "Maybe the little blood traitor can give her lap dance yet." Hermione just rolled her eyes, until Snape called her name.

"Granger and…. Malfoy."

Oh eff.