Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Harry Potter.
Hermione woke up to the sound of her Muggle alarm clock, the taste of bad dreams still in her memory. Her nightmare, she vaguely recalled, was of someone she was trying to get away from chasing her. She didn't know who it was, but it still wasn't a very pleasant dream.
When she opened her eyes, the sight of the light blue dorm bedroom wall greeted her. Light streamed in through the slats in the blinds of the two windows decorating parallel walls. Even though Hermione knew it was a fake, magically concocted scene, she still enjoyed bathing in the fresh sunlight.
Sighing, Hermione knew it was time to get up and face the day. Slowly, she rolled over to face the inside of the room, enough to press her alarm clock buttons until it stopped blaring. Groggily, she realized that there was something wrong with the picture in front of her. Actually, she was fine with it staying that way, but still, she worried. Malfoy was missing from the perfectly made bed across the room from her, closet door neatly closed and trunks all tightly secured.
Hermione climbed off of her mattress, stretching her arms. Well, wherever her roommate was, she had her own day to worry about. Malfoy could be pitching himself off of the Hogwarts roof into the lake, and she couldn't care less.
Quickly making her bed neatly, and gathering one of her clean uniforms and grabbing her basket of shower items, she padded out into the hallway. Yawning, she reached for the door handle and stepped inside.
"Whoa!" cried a distinctly masculine voice standing at the mirror. The mirror fogged up from a shower, Malfoy was shaving, wrapped only in a towel. Panicking, Hermione shrieked, dropping some of her things, and fumbled to grab the door handle again. After some trouble, she managed to get the door shut, and she backed away from it like it was poisonous. Hermione covered her face with her hand, feeling sick and absolutely mortified. The door was closed, for Merlin's sake! Did her lack of sleep make her stupid? Gathering the items she'd dropped that were outside the bathroom door, she took a deep breath. Stupid Malfoy. Doesn't know to at least lock a door when he's showing skin.
Hermione went back to the bedroom to try and clear the traumatic experience from her head. "Eww, eww, ewwww…" she chanted to herself all the way back to her bed, where she promptly collapsed face-first into her pillow.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open, and Hermione hesitantly looked towards the sound, sitting up on her bed. Malfoy was fully dressed in his uniform this time, his green and silver Slytherin tie tightened around his neck.
"Just couldn't get enough of this, huh, Granger?" Malfoy teased. Hermione scowled. She rose to stand, grabbing the remainder of her shower items off of her bed.
"Even an idiot knows how to lock a door. Especially when they have a roommate!" she steamed, stomping towards the door and being careful not to brush him as she stormed past. He narrowed his eyes at her as she flew past him. She faintly caught a whiff of expensive-smelling aftershave, only fueling her anger.
"Spoiled rotten brat!" she muttered behind her as she went to the bathroom, setting down her clothes and basket on the counter. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't have half of her stuff, because she had dropped it. Pink staining her cheeks, she calmly as possible walked out of the bathroom and back to the room.
"I thought you'd be back, Granger," drawled Malfoy, Hermione's shampoo, conditioner, and Gryffindor tie held in his arms. Hermione held out her hands. He didn't move.
"What's the magic word?" Malfoy asked, smirking more.
Oh, there's a lot of magic words, thought Hermione. Particularly the three Unforgivables, that I'm seriously considering using on you...
"Please," she grunted between gritted teeth.
He raised his eyebrows. "You talk in your sleep," he said, handing Hermione her belongings.
Hermione turned on her heel to leave. "One more thing," she heard as she briskly walked away. "'Even idiots know how to knock,'" Malfoy's voice followed her in a very good imitation of a girl's voice. Scoffing, Hermione shut herself into the bathroom to take her morning shower, sealing the door with every locking spell she knew - twice.
.*.
"How did you sleep, Hermione?" asked Ginny kindly as she daintily cut her breakfast sandwich into bites to take with her fork. Staring at a plate of croissants, Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice.
"I've had better nights. And mornings," she replied. "How about you?"
"Good. Surprisingly, the beds are much more comfortable than the ones in the House dormitories. And, there's no fighting over showers." Ginny laughed.
Hermione laughed a little to look entertained, then looked up, wanting to change the subject. "I'm kind of excited for Hogwarts this year. For all our classes and our tests." She smiled at the thought of once again spending her afternoons curled up in the school library, enjoying the peaceful quiet and the smell of books in the air.
"I'm excited for everything but that," countered Ginny, laughing, tucking a lock of her Weasley red hair behind her ear and taking another bite of her food.
Harry and Ron sat across the table, engaged in a conversation with Dean and Seamus. Something about Pansy Parkinson.
"I wonder what we're doing for Couples Class," wondered Ginny aloud. Hermione internally groaned. Her best friend just had to return to the subject she was trying to avoid.
"Can they not call it 'Couples Class?' I bet you more than half of the 'couples' that were placed together cannot stand each other and have no compatibility whatsoever. i.e., me and Malfoy." Quickly, she glanced over to the Slytherin table, where her partner sat with his back to the Gryffindors, chatting with Blaise Zabini and a few other members of his posse. Pansy, as per her usual, was right next to him, hanging on to every word he said. They should have been partners for this, Hermione thought. The two most loathed Slytherins in the school would fit perfectly together.
"Oh, yeah, how is it going with him as your roommate?" Ginny asked concernedly in hushed tones.
"He's impossible," Hermione replied.
"In what ways?" the redhead asked, listening intently.
Hermione sighed. "He's just Malfoy. He won't stop arguing with every little thing. He kept bothering me for the bed I picked, and kept levitating my stuff to the other bed until my suitcase broke open. The zipper's stuck, now. That, and I dislike him enough already, without having to spend time with him." Hermione rubbed her temples and rested her elbow on the table. Deciding to omit the part about all the skin-showing, and the walking in the bathroom, Hermione nodded like she was finished. She'd rather not have to recount the horrors she had faced that morning and the night before.
"I'm sorry, girl," Ginny said with a sympathetic look. "See, I'm lucky to be put with Harry. I love him, I really do. But friends like you, and Seamus, and Cho... All I can do is wish you luck and be there to give you a manicure and listen to you vent when you need to get away from them."
Hermione laughed, just as the bell rang and the students started to stand. The near-empty plates of food gracing the tables were slowly beginning to shrink to nothing in the air. As the students of the Gryffindor table stood to leave the Great Hall, Ron exclaimed and snagged an apple off of a disappearing plate before scooting out of the bench he had inhabited.
"Now to the dungeons for the dreaded hour of torture," Hermione muttered, grabbing her 20-pound book bag and heading out of the cafeteria, following her Gryffindor crowd.
.*.
"Lucy's as dumb as a doornail," Goyle complained loudly. "No wonder she isn't not a non-Slytherin," he struggled to spit out. "Because we're smart."
After starting to try and decipher what Goyle was saying (triple negative?), and then regretting even wasting the brain power, Draco rolled his eyes. His Slytherin friends had no reason to complain. Even Goyle had someone he shared a lot in common with.
"Cho's not too bad," Blaise stated, finishing up his cheese danish. "We stay out of each other's way."
Pansy, who had been interjecting in the conversation she was never invited into ever since she sat down, chose now as another time. "I hate Seamus Finnigan. I wish we never had to do this project. Don't you agree, Draco?"
Right then, the bell rang, giving Draco an excuse to scoot further away from Pansy. "I don't see its educational purposes," he answered, standing up and beginning his walk to the dungeons. "It's rather idiotic." Like Pansy. He wished she would stop clinging to him, all the time. Just because his parents knew each other didn't mean he had to be nice to the obnoxious girl who was always hanging around. But he suffered through it. Painfully.
"I'm walking with you to class," announced Pansy, immediately at his shoulder.
"Whatever," he replied coldly. As Pansy babbled on and on about her home life or something equally boring, Draco walked as quickly as he could to the dungeons.
"We have to sit with our partners," he informed Pansy as soon as they stepped through the doorway to Couples Class. The Gryffindor group came into the room a moment later, and begrudgingly he found the corner table him and Granger sat at last night.
Speak of the devil. Granger and her bushy head of hair were coming over to sit in the seat across from him. She scowled at him and he scowled back, obligingly.
After a few moments of sitting in silence, listening to the other conversations littering the room, the late bell rang, and Professor McGonagall stepped up to her podium. Voices dropped off, and eventually the room was quiet. Some students sat looking excited, some indifferent, and some as dread-filled as Draco.
"Welcome, class," began the Headmistress, "I hope your first night in the dorms was fine. As I explained yesterday, this first section of our lessons will be learning about each other. The key to any lasting relationship is trust, and since having a partner for this year-long project is to teach you about relationships, we have to build a strong trust between us.
Hermione had her project journal out.
I'm Supposed To Trust… Who?
"For the next few weeks, we will be working on trust as a class. But please keep in mind that trust is a concept that stretches throughout not only this school year, but your entire lives. Think about that today.
"Now, this class period will be dedicated to one activity. I don't know if any of you have ever heard of trust falls, but I borrowed the concept from Muggle culture-"
Granger visibly shifted in her seat, most likely her recognition of her own blood's customs. Draco could practically see the excited look on Granger's face as McGonagall mentioned Muggles. Mud-blood.
"I need a couple to volunteer to demonstrate this for me as I explain it," McGonagall announced to the room. Not surprisingly, there was no response. The professor looked ticked off.
"I'll choose a pair. Mr. Zabini and Miss Chang, come up here." The two students reluctantly stood and stepped to the front of the classroom. McGonagall arranged them, so Blaise stood a few feet behind Cho.
"One partner, the boy, will stand behind the other," she gestured to their setup, "and the person in front, the girl, will fall backwards, trusting that their partner will catch them safely in their arms." The Headmistress waited. When the pair in front did nothing but shift uncomfortably, she cleared her throat.
"Miss Chang, if you fall backwards, Mr. Zabini will catch you." Cho stared back, biting her lip. Quickly, she glanced behind her, to check that Blaise was still there.
"One... Two... Three," counted Cho, tilting back on her heels at the last count. Blaise flinched away at first, but most likely realizing that not catching his partner would result in major trouble, he held out his arms to catch her under the arms. An odd, slow round of applause came from the crowd of students.
"This is all about learning to trust each other," explained McGonagall, allowing Blaise and Cho to return to their seats awkwardly. "You may switch roles once in a while, change who falls and who catches, but only for these basic trust falls. Feel free to have a conversation during this activity to get to know your partner. We will be doing these for the next few minutes," said the professor, earning a groan from a few students. "Starting now."
Chair legs scraped the ground as the class slowly lifted to their feet, begrudgingly assuming their falling and catching positions. Draco cracked his neck, then stood up, watching Granger drag her feet in the same process. They faced each other across the table between them.
"I'm not falling first," was Granger's immediate reaction. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well, I have no desire to fall into your arms at all," he returned.
"I think the last person I trust in this room would be you," Granger complained, folding her arms. The couples in the room around them were standing to the side of the tables, starting their trust falls. Draco at least pushed his chair back and moved to the side of the table.
"I'm not doing it," muttered Granger, narrowing her eyes and looking stubborn. It was annoying when she got like this.
"Do I have to tell the teacher on you?" said Draco in his best speaking-to-a-toddler voice. "For the first time ever, Granger's refusing to do her schoolwork! It's unheard of."
"Shut it, Malfoy." But his comment must have affected her enough, because she stepped out from behind the table.
"I'm only doing this to get the stupid grade for the year," she assured him, cautiously moving a few steps closer to her partner and turning around.
"Don't worry, it's mutual," replied Draco exhaustedly, holding out his arms. Granger kept glancing behind her shoulder, checking if his arms were out.
"Are you paying attention?" she asked, whirling around.
"Yes, I am, and I have been. Just fall!"
Granger 'hmmphed' and turned around again. Still looking behind her shoulder, she counted aloud. "One, two, three." Hesitantly, she fell backwards, and Draco stuck out his arms to catch his partner under the arms. She landed with barely an impact, but as fast as she got there, he pushed her up to her feet, and she whipped around.
"You caught me too late!" she told him, pursing her lips. "Your turn. Turn around."
Warily, Draco turned halfway. "Hang on a second, I'm taller than you and heavier. How are you going to catch me?"
Granger held up her wand. "Duh?"
Extremely hesitant, Draco faced away from Granger. "One, two, three," he counted off, tilting back and falling.
When he heard sniggering behind him, and no spells muttered, and only felt falling through midair, he panicked. He knew Granger and he had a mutual hate thing going, but he never thought she'd be this low. A class activity. Trying anything to escape this imminent death, Draco flailed his arms, attempting to turn around mid-fall and catch himself.
"Arresto Momentum," Granger's voice said from above him, and he stopped falling. When he turned his head to look where he was, his head was mere inches from the cold, hard, cement dungeon ground.
In a swift maneuver, Draco twisted his body, put his hands on the ground, and rolled to the side to give him momentum to stand. He glared coldly at the snickering girl in front of him.
"I'm going to be the better person and not do anything like that to you," said Draco. Granger stopped laughing and put her wand in her robes pocket.
"Well, I'm sorry. That just made up last night and this morning. I'm set now," she explained, looking so innocent. Yeah, right.
"OK, class, we're going to add a new twist to the trust falls," interjected McGonagall from her podium. "This time, the girl will stand on top of the table, and the boy will catch their partner sideways. To be safe, don't switch who catches for this one. It's even more difficult," she explained. "Try it."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Is she serious?"
Granger crossed her arms, watching the other couples around the room complete the activity. There were a lot of short shrieks and laughs. Draco wondered why, of all things for this class, McGonagall would pick her inspiration from the Muggles, and their primitive, torturous practices.
But Granger was using Draco's chair (of course, not her own) as a step to get up onto the table. "Oh, Merlin," she scoffed. "Are you ready? Stand there. Face the front of the room. Stay." She put her back to Draco, her heels off of the edge of the table. "I'm falling, and this is the only time I'm doing this. I swear, McGonagall…" she muttered. "One... Two... Three."
She tilted back, and Draco braced to catch her. With a soft "oof," she landed in his arms, her knees and back in his hold. And then they were losing balance. Granger's arms flew to his neck to stop from falling, but she caught his shirt and then he was being pulled forward. "Shit—" she hissed, letting go and rolling onto the ground. Malfoy fell, stabilizing himself against the table with his hands before he was down, too. Granger looked up from the ground, cursing her life and McGonagall and the class and everything she could think of. Draco couldn't help but laugh. He had never heard the perfect little Granger swear. She glared at him and cursed him, too.
"Muggles have the dumbest and craziest ideas sometimes," she admitted, quickly stepping away to make sure there was a healthy distance in between the two enemies.