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Chapter 1: Fruit baskets and SHIT

Black hair... the blond-haired girl mused vaguely, hardly aware that she was thinking at all. The intended subject of her thoughts was the tall, pale-faced man who was currently looming over her desk. For some reason, the girl was having a very hard time ungluing her eyes from his hair. His horrible, miss-shapen, flat, lustre-less hair.

"Wolfsbane, only a three inch cut and a pinch of - "

...bet there's dandruff. How unwashed? Ever been washed?

"- common salt. Begin."

Ew.

The fifth-year Hufflepuff shuddered slightly but didn't awake from her wide-eyed daze, though the hand propped under her chin slid a millimeter.

Aftershave...?

She sniffed the air quietly. No, he wore no aftershave. Honestly, the blond-haired girl - whose name was Norah Primer - didn't see any need for it. Her professor's face looked like it had never supported so much as one small bristle in it's long, predictably uneventful life.

Norah wondered idly if Severus Snape had, in fact, passed puberty yet. She squinted in that semi-aware state, her mouth a slack-jawed, the eraser of her pencil pressing into her lower lip. Her eyes widened slightly. No, it looked as though he hadn't.

"Is something the matter with your face, Miss Primer?"

Norah, who was now far too absorbed in the air behind her Potion's teacher's head, didn't notice the snickers, or the sniggers (sniggles, she thought dreamily) that followed the comment. In fact, she grinned along with them, not quite awake enough to realize that the comment had been directed toward her. Then she woke up.

Her jaw snapped shut immediately, the grin dissipated from her face, and she straightened so quickly that her seat rocked backward. Snape smirked delicately, then walked away to inspect a cauldron.

Ah, lovely. Norah thought, staring after him with a mixture of resentment and amusement. Embarrassed by a forty-year-old grease ball who's still waiting to pop his first pimple. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

"A darling, that Snape is."

Norah turned and grinned at the girl who had spoken on her left. "Charming." she agreed, beginning to cut up the ingredients for her potion.

"I think," she continued wryly, not looking up. "I might send him a fruit basket this Christmas."

Susan Bones grinned back at her. "Yes, only you'll have to replace the fruit with shamp-"

Both girls jumped as a textbook slammed down on Susan's desk, narrowly missing the fingers of her left hand. In comical unison, the pair looked up, and jumped again to see that Severus Snape had descended upon their desks. He gave them both a glare that was rather insolent, then, in a flourish of heavy black material, bent to examine Susan's potion.

When he straightened, he was smiling faintly. Susan, mistaking the smile for one of pleasure, began to smile back - then he tapped her cauldron with his wand, and her potion evaporated. Her smile died promptly, and turned into straight fury as Snape turned away. Norah patted her hand sympathetically.

"No fruit basket."

"Not even a grape."

--

"...'Is something the matter with your face, Primer?' No, professor, but there's something clearly wrong with yours."

Susan laughed, and the dull scowl that Norah had been wearing since she and her friend had left the classroom slipped away and became a grin. They were following the rest of their Hufflepuff-Slytherin class to the top of the stairs, weaving their way through the dim passage with experienced ease.

"Think he has it in for you?" Susan asked with raised eyebrows, raising her voice to be heard as they joined the throng of slowly moving students at the top of the stairs.

"Yes!" Norah shouted back, not only for the sake of volume. "Doesn't he always?"

She pounded her fist into her hand several times for enunciation. "I think his objective is to stuff me into a small box with numerous sharp objects and Xpress shipme to New Guinea.

"And his smell," she continued, completely oblivious to Susan's look of incredulity. "At some point in his life a man must stop himself and rationalize his fear of soap."

"And he hasn't reached that point...?" Susan asked, trying the put the conversation back in non-muggle terms.

"Exactly!" Norah cried, throwing up her hands and upsetting a small herd of first years on their way to their first Potions lesson with Snape.

"It was like this last year, and the year before..." Norah shook her head ruefully. Susan grinned and steered her friend away from the classroom she was about to wander into. "Next one, dear."

Now it was Norah's turn to look confused. "Oh."

"S'alright," Susan said, deftly swerving to the side of the hallway in order to avoid a large group of Slytherins. "First day back is always the worst."

They walked into the next classroom over - the right classroom - together, and took seats with a familiar group of Hufflepuffs by the window. Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones were sitting together at one desk.

"Room for two, girls," Ernie said briskly, flashing them a diplomatic smile. Norah smiled back as best as she could, and took the seat next to Hannah, with Susan at the end of the table. Ernie, in her opinion, was both the most amusing boy a person could hope to meet and the most annoying little prat on the face of the earth. With the exception of Snape, of course. And Blaise. And Pansy Parkinson. And -

Norah made herself stop listing people she disliked, realizing how bitter and sadistic she sounded. A bitter Hufflepuff? A bitter sadistic Hufflepuff? That was rich.

"Norah? Your summer?"

It was then that Norah realized Hannah had been waving her hand in front of her face for a good ten seconds. "Oh," she said, smiling ruefully. "Good. Great. Yours?"

"Ugh," Hannah groaned, and immediately started on a monologue about how terrible her summer had been. Craning her neck slightly, Norah could see Susan on Hannah's other side, half-listening politely while the girl rambled on.

Hannah was like the female equivalent of Ernie Macmillan, save that she was a lot less... annoying, put in the bluntest of terms. And then there was Megan, the quiet, ever-pleasant, pretty-faced girl whom no one seemed to know anything about. Now, as Hannah listed in full detail all of the tedious things she had been forced to do over the summer, Megan was smiling genuinely and nodding, her expression never failing to emit the perfect measure of goodness and light. A home-bred Hufflepuff through and through - that was Megan Jones. Strangely enough, Norah was still making up her mind about Megan, after four years of sharing a dormitory with her. Too sweet, she thought, then grinned. Hannah, encouraged by this seemingly outward act, began to talk so fast that Norah couldn't have followed even if she'd wanted to.

Her eyes began to wander the class, the very same Charms room that she had frequented every day for the past four school years. Gryffindors were beginning to arrive in couplets and triplets, talking and laughing, teasing and bragging.

Norah felt a small spark of annoyance as one such Gryffindor heedlessly brushed by their table, knocking Susan's books to the floor. Susan patiently stared after the turned back of her offender, then bent to pick up the books herself when he did not turn around. Her eyes met Norah's for a moment as she straightened up, and Norah could see the same hard quality there that she could feel in her own eyes.

Gryffindors, she mouthed disdainfully, and they both grinned.

"...but I was busy that morning, and my friend, that's Sylvia the mugg-" Hannah broke off, looking at the two girls with thinly veiled impatience.

"Go on." Norah said, forcing herself to smile encouragingly. Hannah gave them another annoyed look, then set off talking again at ten miles per hour.

"Come class, come now, let's quiet down."

The talking decreased a decibel in the room, and 40 sets of eyes swivelled to the small frame of Professor Flitwick, who had entered the room through his mysterious side door and was now standing at the head of the class.

"Well, well!" he proclaimed, once every voice had quieted. "Well now. Isn't it good to see all of these familiar faces."

His own face, round as it was happy, lit up as his eyes searched the class.

"Hermione Granger!" he exclaimed, sounding positively ecstatic.

Norah, Susan, and probably even Megan Jones rolled their eyes - most of the class was making a gesture of such nature - and watched the faint yet steady blush creeping into Hermione's cheeks.

"And Megan Jones! On of my best students!"

Megan's face was bright red within seconds.

"Alright, alright, let's partner up, class..."

The class began a mad scramble before Flitwick had even finished. Hannah was already reaching across Norah to latch herself onto Susan - in an unexpected turn of events, Norah appeared to have lost favour in the eyes of the mighty Hannah Abbott - and Norah could see Megan and Ernie already discussing their work quietly at the other end of the table. Susan shrugged at her and smiled apologetically. Norah grinned back, then looked around the room.

Nearly everyone had already partnered. The Hufflepuffs, of course, had somehow managed to elude partnership with anyone from Gryffindor, and of the handful of Gryffindor's Norah knew, everyone was taken. Dean was with Pavarti, Seamus was with Lavender, the redhead was with Hermione, Harry was with... Harry. Norah caught his eye, then raised her eyebrows questioningly. He shrugged, and she nodded in return, then took her books and wand and went over to where he sat.

"Hi." he said, somewhat awkwardly, and slid down the bench so she could sit. She smiled in that off-hand way reserved mainly for name-basis acquaintances, then turned her attention back to Flitwick, who was explaining their assignment.

"...Hover Charm. Understood?"

The class mumbled a response. "Alright," Flitwick continued, apparently satisfied by their feeble reply. "Just two small swishes and a very quick flick, accompanied by 'Levosto'. You may begin."

Norah turned toward Harry, resting half cross-legged position on the bench so she could face him directly. "Do you want to start?" she asked, her fingernails already biting into her palm anxiously. "Um, yeah, sure." Harry replied, picking up his wand. Norah's nails dug deeper.

"Don't you think this is kind of ... advanced for first day material?" Norah heard Allan Finch ask, a small, anxious boy from her own House.

"Not at all!" Flitwick replied heartily. "You are fifth years, after all."

Harry offered Norah a thin-lipped smile and raised his wand. In the bright mid-morning light streaming through the windows, she could see he looked somewhat strained. Norah attempted to smile back reassuringly. "So just swish..." Harry swished twice. "And flick, and Levosto."

Norah clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the small, startled yelp that she couldn't help but emit when she found herself stationed three inches above the bench. "Oh," Harry said, relaxing in his seat (Norah couldn't help but to be extremely jealous of the fact that he was sitting). "That wasn't hard."

"Well keep it up, alright?" Norah said, and detected the note of peevishness in her voice even before Harry did.

"...And now slowly put them down, please."

Norah smiled in relief when Flitwick said this. The smile was wiped cleanly from her face when she dropped onto the bench with a dull thud. Harry's face grew pale. "Oh... Oh god - I am so sorry -" Rubbing her tailbone, Norah looked up and gave him the best smile she could.

"Now the other partner tries!"

Five minutes later, Harry was lounging lazily in his seat across from Norah, who was suspended cross-legged in the air above the bench. The boy was twirling his wand boredly (in little gestures, so Norah wouldn't bounce very much) while the blond was inspecting her fingernails. Easy conversation filled the air around them, and though half of the class was floating in the air, no one looked uncomfortable. This was probably because Flitwick had left the room to receive a message (with the directions that the class continue practicing the Hovering Charm in his absence).

Norah glanced up from her nails for a moment and carefully studied the face of the boy across from her.

How was she supposed to make conversation? They really didn't have much in common. Nothing, come to think of it. Norah folded her hands in her lap, considering her options. Quidditch? Hardly. School? Not a chance - in the social structure of Hogwarts, Norah Primer and Harry Potter weren't even on the same spectrum. Spells? Food? Television (ha.)? Voldemort?

Yes, that'd go well, Norah thought wryly, picturing the scene in her mind. So Harry, what's it like having your mum and dad killed by a sociopath and then being dubbed the 'Chosen One' by all of your friends, like some lame character from a bad science fiction series? Which reminds me, have you ever seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer?

No, definitely not a good conversation starter.

"So, uh, don't see you around very much."

Norah blinked. Harry was talking to her? Harry was starting the conversation? Dammit. What is about Hufflepuffs and shyness? The two always seemed to go hand in hand. Like Gryffindors and arrogance. Like a bloody illness.

Norah shrugged one shoulder and thought about leaving it at that, then reviewed what she had just thought (Shy Hufflepuff Illness Thing - SHIT).

"Yeah..." she said, lamely. "it's kind of weird."

However lame, Norah decided that it was better then falling victim to SHIT.

There was an only partially-uncomfortable silence for the moments following her response, and then Harry spoke again. Mentally, and grudgingly, Norah applauded his efforts.

"So... don't get out a lot?"

"Not a lot, no."

"Hufflepuffs are like that, aren't they?"

Her eyebrows shot up, and Norah felt a small tugging at the corner of her lips. Dear God, she thought, staring at Harry blandly. How could someone so naive save the world?

Seeing Norah's expression, Harry seemed to realize that his foot was in his mouth.

"Not a bad thing," he blustered. "I mean, not in a bad way -"

It was obvious that he was sincerely flustered, and despite her new dislike for the Gryffindor, Norah felt some pity. She was also surprised. In her mind, there was a common stereotype of Gryffindors that never failed to prove truthful: they hardly ever realized their mistakes, and never admitted their fault.

"- It's just... Hufflepuffs are very close, aren't they?"

"Mm." Norah said thinly, and tried to look as if she were considering his statement. "Switch spots?"

Harry looked relieved that they were off topic, and lowered her to the bench without pause.

Norah silently raised her own wand, performed the incantation, and lifted him into the air. At the same moment, Flitwick re-entered the room. "Alright, class, let's put each other down and get our books together!"

Harry looked as if he were opening his mouth to say something, and then he dropped. As terrible as it was - and she knew this - Norah couldn't help but to relish the satisfying thud his bottom made as it the bench, and the dazed wince on his face that followed thereafter.

She looked at him once, coolly, then took her books and left the classroom. On her face was a small grin.

--

Alright. I've got a partially-vague, partially-formed idea in my mind of where this is going, but suggestions (if you plan on REVIEWING) would be extremely nice.

Please do.

Thankyou!