A/N: So, after many years of reading fanfic, this is my first attempt to actually write. I honestly have no idea if it's good or bad, so I'm hoping lots of people will read it and let me know. Yes, actually I'm begging for constructive criticism and comments, I really have no idea what works and doesn't, or if there are grammar mistakes and such that I missed. Hope you like it, and I'll try to update quickly, at least in the beginning to get the story rolling.

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Hermione braced herself as she entered the Potions classroom. It was only the second week of classes, but she already dreaded facing the Slytherins that she and the other seventh-year Gryffindors were forced to share the class with, as well as being forced to deal with Professor Snape.

It wasn't that she hated Potions, specifically, of course. In fact, the art of potion-making was rather enthralling to her and seemed to be the most mystical part of being a witch. As a child, she had watched many Muggle films that involved witches, always leaning over their cauldrons filled with simmering and bubbling concoctions. Of course, the stereotypical idea of witches was rather ridiculous – the long pointy noses covered in warts, the maniacal cackling. Actually, now that she thought about it, there were several professors that fit the bill quite nicely.

No, the potion-making wasn't the problem for Hermione. It was everything else about Potions class that bothered her. The dark, dank dungeons that left her shivering no matter how many layers she wore under her robes. The peculiar smell that pervaded the room and especially the ingredients cupboard, which struck her as being a mix of a funeral home and her parents' dentistry office.

But what bothered her the most, of course, were the people. She knew that Snape could technically be considered a good man; he was in the Order of the Phoenix and was spying on Voldemort at a great cost to himself. Still, his serpentine mannerisms, his oily voice, and greasy hair unnerved her a great deal.

Not that Hermione would let on to anyone, especially not Ron or Harry, but she spent more time and effort on preparing for Potions classes beforehand and doing the homework afterwards than she spent on the rest of her classes combined. She feared humiliation at Snape's hands more than anyone else.

Well, maybe not anyone else. Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable around all the Slytherins as they were Gryffindor's rival house, sure, but Draco Malfoy had a way of setting her off-balance more than anyone else in her life. Most of the school, as well as all the gossip rags and even some of the newspapers assumed that Harry and Malfoy were the great rivals. After all, Harry was The Boy Who Lived and Malfoy was the Slytherin Sex God…those were not Hermione's own words, of course. In truth, while Harry and Malfoy held a deep animosity for each other, it was Hermione and Malfoy that were the true rivals. Hermione often wondered why people didn't notice more quickly, actually; she thought it would be quite obvious as they were Head Boy and Head Girl, taking advanced classes and competing for the top marks in all of them.

While all these thoughts were drifting through Hermione's head, she had entered the Potions classroom, sat down at her usual seat and as though in a trance pulled out all the necessary supplies out of her bookbag and arranged them neatly in front of her. However the sharp sound of Snape rapping on the blackboard drew her out of her reverie.

"Last week we started slow, a far too generous allowance on my part to let your small heads remember what we worked on last year," Snape said. "However, now that my yearly amount of kindness and understanding is used up, we shall proceed to the task at hand."

Snape whisked around to the front row of tables, brandishing parchment and a quill.

"Your current seating arrangement is final for the rest of the year…unless I see fit to move you, of course," Snape added silkily. "The person that shares your desk will also share your cauldron, and your grade. Learn to work together or don't, it's not my prerogative to make sure you pass."

Hermione realized with a start that she had been so lost in thought that she had no clue who was on the other side of her. Quickly she turned her head, only to find…no one. She hurriedly glanced around the classroom, trying to find a suitable someone else without a partner. As she looked, she caught Harry's eye, who was seated next to Ron. He gave her a sympathetic look and shrugged to indicate that he couldn't see a viable partner for her either.

Well, maybe this won't be so bad, she thought to herself. I can probably achieve a much better grade than if I had to drag someone less adept along with me.

Hermione moved to raise her hand and ask Snape if she could work alone, as there was clearly an odd number of people in the classroom, when Snape pointed a yellowing fingernail to the back of the room.

"Yes, Draco?"

Hermione whipped around in her seat in horror, as she had not noticed Malfoy when she had previously scanned the classroom. Yet there he sat, at a desk, alone, partnerless. Hermione's mind stumbled to the inevitable outcome of this scenario, and Snape's words from only moments before rang in her ears. Seating arrangement…final…sharing grades… Hermione stared helpless in Malfoy's direction, feeling like one of those people who witnesses a car accident and is powerless to stop it.

"It seems there are an odd number of people in this class, Professor," Malfoy drawled lazily. "However, I feel I am quite experienced enough to work alone."

Malfoy placed a special emphasis on the word 'experienced,' as if to indicate that Potions was not his only area of expertise. Some of the class tittered quietly at this, although it was mostly Slytherins, but some of the sillier Gryffindor girls giggled behind their hands and poked each other.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "However experienced you may be, Mr. Malfoy," Snape responded, matching Malfoy's tone exactly, "you would do well to work on your rudimentary mathematics. There is an even number of students in this class, which means you will have the privilege of sharing that lovely expertise with Ms. Granger, if you would be so kind as to move up here."

Malfoy's face immediately shifted from that of a privileged and favored student bantering with his Housemaster, to shock and disbelief, quickly followed by contempt and anger. He broke eye contact with Snape and swept the room with his eyes until they landed on Hermione's, where she sat, frozen and staring back at him.