Muggle Studies

by: Faithful Wheezy

All right; my internet is being a total vacca foeda… a stupid cow, to you. But no matter, it doesn't matter what I think of my internet right now as long as you think this chapter is good. And hopefully, it should dually satisfy and exasperate you. Please review and enjoy!

Disclaimer: See prologue.

Three: Don't kiss him!

Grinning, Ron stepped through the hole the statue revealed into the Head Tower. "Hermione?" he called out. However, his grin was immediately wiped off of his face, and his jaw dropped.

At first, Ron simply stared, his jaw practically scraping the stone floor. Then in one, fluid motion, Ron paled, retched, covered his eyes, and swiftly turned around. "Ernie!" he yelled, sounding scandalized. "Put an effing pyjama shirt on or something!"

His curiosity aroused, Harry peered around Ron's rigid body and immediately found the urge to turn around as well. Standing a few paces away from the door frame stood Ernie McMillan, wearing nothing but boxers, his rather droopy stomach exposed for all present to see. Standing in the middle of what seemed to be a gigantic, private common room, looking rather gormless as he stared at Ron and Harry (who stared back equally shocked), he immediately seized a nearby couch pillow and held it in front of his naked torso, his pinky fingers sticking out rather femininely.

"What in bloody blazes are you doing here?" their Head Boy roared at the assembly.

Dean, Seamus, and Neville, who before now, had not yet seen Ernie yet, forced their way through Ron and Harry to see what the fuss was all about, only to swiftly back out of the room yet again. Taken completely off guard by the appearance of more 'hooligans', Ernie let out a strangled "Yaaaagh!" and dived behind the largest couch. After a few moments of extremely awkward silence, Ernie poked his head out from behind the couch and shot Harry an extremely vindictive look, as he was the only one who hadn't backed out of the room—although granted, Harry did look slightly disgusted.

"Mmmergdhfed," Neville muttered, sounding rather ill.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked loudly. "Why out? Why now? Why here at all?" Over on the mantle, a potted plant toppled off at the vibration his voice caused, caught itself an inch before it hit the ground, and levitated calmly back to its original position. "I am Head Boy!" he continued, rather unnecessarily, pointing a shaking index finger in the air for emphasis. "You should all be in trouble for being out this late—"

"—put a shirt on and then we'll talk to you!" Ron interrupted, rather thickly, as his head was buried in his arms to save himself from having to look at Ernie and his pyjamas—or rather, half a lack of.

Giving a sound that sounded like a cross between a huff and a snort, Ernie said, "Oh—all right, then. Well, get in, you five, come on…"

Once Neville had hopped smartly onto the doormat, predictably stumbling over his own feet and having to regain his balance by seizing Seamus around the neck (who in turn stumbled due to uneven platforms caused by his stiletto), Ernie snuffed—snorted and huffed—muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Typical", and pointed his wand at the statue-door behind them, which immediately swung closed (the force causing Neville to stumble forward yet again).

"Now," Ernie said stiffly, "what are you doing here?"

Ron, whose face was still hidden beneath his hands, said, "Put a shirt on!" whilst Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville, who were doing the same and averting their gaze from their respectable Head Boy, echoed his words.

"You have no right to tell your Head Boy what to do!"

"PUT A SHIRT ON!"

Ernie hesitated, and then snuffed once more.

"All right, all right…"

Once Ernie had disappeared into a far room, Ron took his face gingerly from the safety of his hands and peered around nervously.

"Is he gone?" he asked.

Harry waited a few moments, but Ernie had not yet returned. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. Walking over to the couch, he sat down, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville following suit. "Where's Hermione? She's Head Girl, shouldn't she be here?"

Ron seemed to perk up. "Where is she?" he said, looking around the room eagerly, as though hoping she might pop up unexpectedly from a mosaic pot.

"You reckon she'll have her pyjama shirt on?" Seamus asked slyly. Sensing immediate danger, he dropped down on the floor, narrowly missing Ron's balled fist, and emerged from behind the back of the couch, grinning. "Kidding, mate," he said hastily, as Ron's eyebrows furrowed. "Or was I?" he said, musingly, stroking his chin, as Ron settled back down on the cushions. As he whirled around yet again, Seamus held up his arms protectively. "Just kidding, just kidding!"

"You better be," Ron said darkly, as he settled onto a separate armchair so as to be able to view Seamus directly without him being out of his sight, "or you'll be getting more lines again, and I won't be as lenient."

"You call one hundred times lenient?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"I'll bet even Hermione's pretty cruel to you; if she didn't whip you too hard, would that be your idea of lenie—kidding—!"

But Ron had already taken a flying leap from the armchair and rugby-tackled Seamus, pinning him to the ground.

"Weasley!"

Ernie McMillan had returned, thankfully this time, wearing a plaid pyjama shirt, and a night cap jammed haphazardly on the top of his head; despite the homely appearance, however, Ernie looked livid. "Get off Finnigan!" he said angrily, making to stride across the room to pull Ron off, but there was no need—Ron had already let Seamus up, looking rather grumpy.

"Just roughing around," he said gruffly.

"All the same, you are a Prefect," Ernie said through his teeth, seeming as though he didn't believe Professor Dumbledore had been in his right mind when he made Ron a Prefect. "Younger children… look… up to you," he said with a forced effort, "and you don't want to give them the wrong idea—if I see you doing that again I might report you to—"

"—yeah—right," Ron said, sounding distracted. "D'you know where Hermione is? We were going to visit in before we went to bed, see how she's doing here."

At this remark, Ernie looked oddly annoyed, and then turned around, busying himself with a teacup that had been lying on the coffee table. "Fancy a cup of tea?" he said finally, still not looking at Ron, Harry, or the others.

"You have a kitchen in here?" Dean asked interestedly, craning his neck as though hoping to catch sight of an ice box or a pyramid of Jell-O.

"Oh, no," Ernie said, now looking relieved as he turned around. "We have access to the kitchens, you know."

"Do you?" Seamus asked. "What else do you have access to? Teachers' Lounge?"

Ernie carried his teacup and saucer over to a counter along an opposite wall, apparently refilling it for himself. "Never as good as the original," he muttered. "Sorry, Finnigan, what did you say?"

"Can you get to the Teachers' Lounge from here?"

"The Teachers' Lounge?" Ernie asked, taking a sip from his cup, grimacing slightly. "Well, we don't have SPELL to it, if that's what you mean."

"Sorry," Harry said, "but, what?"

"Oh, sorry, S.P.E.L.L.—Straightforward Portrait Entry Liberated Levels," Ernie said as he sat down in the armchair Ron had sat down in previously. "Or otherwise Direct Portrait Access, to you." At their blank faces, Ernie sighed and said, "Without the SPELL, we can't use a single portrait to a specific room. But this Tower have SPELLs to all the Common Rooms in here, and the Kitchens, and a few other places I think—but we don't have direct Portraits to places like the Prefects' Bathrooms and the Teachers' Lounge—we have to go through a few corridors for those. When you guys leave you can leave through a SPELL to the Gryffindor Common Rooms, but you can't back through them here though—only we Heads can do that."

"Speaking of Heads," Ron interrupted, "where's our other one? You know—Hermione?"

Again, a slightly irritated look flitted across Ernie's face, then, setting his teacup carefully on the coffee table he said, "She should be back here shortly. After she took her bath she went to tack up notices on the Notice Boards in the common rooms."

There was a clatter as Ron's knees hit the edge of Ernie's saucer as he stood up quickly. Harry instinctively grabbed Ron's elbows to restrain him from crossing over to where Ernie sat. "After she took her what?"

Ernie looked confused. "Er, what?"

"After she took her what?" Ron repeated, his ears slowly reddening.

"After she took her bath," Ernie said calmly, still looking bewildered.

"Ron—sit—down," Harry grunted, attempting to pull Ron back onto the couch. Finally, after a pregnant pause, Ron allowed Harry to yank him back down on the cushions. However, he had not yet let the matter go. "Where are your bathrooms anyway?" he demanded. "D'you two get separate ones?"

The Godfather Gang seemed to shift as one in embarrassment, Harry fidgeting as though he would like to sit a few feet apart from Ron. However, totally overlooking their discomfiture, Ernie answered.

"Yeah, we do," the bewildered look on Ernie's face ebbing away to one of understanding embarrassment. "Although we can use the Prefects' Bathroom if we want to have an interesting bubble bath—"

With an effort, Harry leaned heavily on Ron to restrain him from leaping on top of their Head Boy, the thought of which was apparently on Ron's mind. Just when Harry thought he couldn't hold Ron down any longer, there came a sound like a door banging shut coming from a hallway and a voice following, the only sound that could ever distract Ron from beating anyone to a pulp.

"Ernie? I already put up the last ones in the Hufflepuff Common Room a while ago, but I stopped for a pot of tea, so I just came from the Kitchen. It might taste different, because I made this pot myself—honestly, those poor elves have enough to do, I should talk to Professor Dumbledore about their captivity, I really should, now that I have higher status… so anyway, I thought you might've finished the first one—"

Hermione emerged from the farthest hallway, holding a steaming china pot. Upon catching sight of Ron, Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville, the teapot slipped from her hands.

"Arresto Momentum," Ernie said lazily, flicking his wand at the plummeting teapot. Instantly, the pot halted its descent, and any tea that had escaped from it returned meekly within the china.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ernie said, pointing his wand towards the coffee table, towards which the teapot hovered, finally setting itself down in the center of the table.

"Ron, Harry—" she began, looking around. "Dean, Seamus, Neville—what are you doing here?"

"Not exactly the tone I was hoping to hear," Ron said grumpily, however putting his arm around Hermione when she approached him. Hermione laughed.

"I was just surprised," she said, "I wasn't expecting you five to visit so soon… and so late, you all could have gotten in trouble!"

As Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville grumbled at her, Harry glanced around to chance a look at Ernie—again, that strangely irritated look, even though he was not scowling, was in his eyes, but by busying himself with multiplying an extra teacup Hermione had bought, he was able to look unfazed.

"Seamus, you still haven't been able to get that stiletto off?" Harry heard Hermione say, and he looked around just in time to see Seamus get on the floor and peer at his foot, nearly shoving the heel of the stiletto up his right nostril. Rearing back quickly and massaging his nose viciously, Seamus shook his head resignedly.

"I was hoping maybe you'd be able to take it off," he said, grabbing Neville around the neck of his robes in order to pull himself back to his feet ("Mmmergdhfed!" Neville choked).

Snuffing again, Ernie looked over Seamus's foot with almost professional interest. "Do you know what spell you used on your shoe? What specific incantation? Form of transfiguration?"

At each question Ernie shot at him, Seamus seemed to shrink. "No," he finally said. "It was an accident. I was just prodding my shoe and it… this," he finished meekly, gesturing to his stiletto.

Ernie snuffed. "If you ever want a chance to fix your shoe you're going to have to at least know the theory of the type of transfiguration you used on it," he said pompously. "It might have helped if you listened in Transfiguration Class—"

"Ernie," Hermione interjected, "it was an accident—"

"Accidents can kill people, Hermione."

Stronger and more masculine men than Ernie would have quailed under the look Hermione gave him.

"I don't know why you're getting so worked up over this," Hermione said peevishly. "You said so yourself, you weren't 'made Head Boy for nothing'; could you at least help him?"

Unsuccessfully stifling a sigh, Ernie slid off his armchair and looked closely at Seamus's stiletto. After a strained silence, he straightened up and dusted off his hands.

"Well?" Seamus asked anxiously, reminding Harry irresistibly of a man about to become a father.

"Well, the only thing we can do for now is put an Illusion Charm on your problem," Ernie said smoothly. "It'll at least look normal, but it'll feel the same to you—"

"—and to anybody's foot he steps on," Harry added, the foot Seamus had accidentally stabbed earlier twinging.

"It's five inches tall and killing me," Seamus said pleadingly, "are you sure there's nothing you can do? I've already tried hacking the heel off and it's strong as bloody h—"

"—not unless you knew the theory of the transfiguration you put on it," Ernie repeated, as he sat heavily back down on his armchair. "You can ask Madam Pomfrey to help you, but you're really going to need the theory."

With a groan of disbelief, Seamus fell back on the couch, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in exaggerated distress.

Shooting an annoyed look at Ernie, Hermione sat down next to Seamus. "Here, give me your foot," she said kindly. After a few moments, some well-chosen phrases, and a couple of outbursts of laughter from Seamus as his foot was his most ticklish spot, Hermione set down his still-stilettoed, yet perfectly normal looking foot down, looking satisfied. "That should hold for at least two weeks," she said. "Then we can put it back on once it wears off."

"You think it's going to stay on me that long?" Seamus asked worriedly. "What if it never comes off?"

"Oh, it should come off eventually," Hermione said placidly. "If this was done accidentally it shouldn't've been a well-done spell, and all spells do wear off eventually, so, hopefully it will be off by the time we graduate."

"Hopefully?"

A cup of tea was thrust at Seamus's chest. "It's best if you don't worry about it now, I suppose," Hermione said concernedly. "But we're going to be sitting down most of the time in classes, you know, so there won't be too much pain on your f—"

"It hurts right now! And I'm sitting down, too!"

"No use complaining about it, Finnigan," Ernie said in annoyance from his armchair. "It looks normal now, so if you keep going on at it people are going to think you're—"

"Ernie," Hermione said warningly.

Ernie snuffed, but made no further comment.

"So," Dean said into the awkward silence that followed, "what notices were you putting up on the Notice Boards, Hermione?"

Grateful for the change of subject, Hermione grabbed at the chance. "Reminders about events happening over the course of the year," she said, "and one big one about Individual Referentially-Chosen Courses—while our Head of House is going around giving us our schedules, they're also giving the Seventh Years their Course."

"How're they chosen?" Neville asked worriedly. "Is it given depending on—on our talents, or something?"

"Purely random," Ernie said, as though disapproving of Dumbledore's method. "And I hear that groups of friends get the same one 'for as much educational intake as possible'… my arse," Ernie added under his breath.

"Sorry?" Ron asked, not believing what he heard.

"Nothing," Ernie said, waving an airy hand. "But I am quite eager to find out which course I'm taking—it had better be worth my time."

"As Head Boy, shouldn't everything be worth your time?" Neville asked innocently.

Ernie made as if to make an angry retort, and seeming to think better of it, frowned. "It's getting late," he said. "You five better head back to your Common Room—you can use a SPELL through to it—" With an enormous effort, Ernie heaved himself from the armchair and plodded into the hallway Hermione had come out from earlier.

Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville followed behind. But, looking despairingly at Hermione, Ron made absolutely no movement to follow his Head Boy until Hermione gave him a little push. "He's right, you know," she said, "if you don't get enough sleep tonight you're going to get off on the wrong foot. Like… Seamus, for example."

"But—I don't—not even—no goodnight kiss?" Ron spluttered, pouting not unlike a child who had been refused candy.

Strangled sobbing sounds emitted from the far hallway, coupled with an annoyed snuff that sounded amazingly like Ernie's.

"Oh—all right then," Hermione relented. Leaning up, she gave Ron a peck on the lips that lasted for a nanosecond and pulled back to laugh at the extreme look of disappointment on Ron's face. "Just kidding," she said delicately.

"Don't ever say those words again," Ron said darkly, reminded irresistibly of Seamus.

Seconds later, the look of confusion on Hermione's face disappeared as Ron leaned in, and moments later, they began snogging for so long that Dean finally peeked around the wall of the hallway.

"OI! Get a room," he called across the common room, however, his shout could not eliminate the tone of amusement from it.

Sighing in exasperation, Ron pulled back reluctantly and gave Hermione a brief hug, making a horrible face at Dean over Hermione's shoulder. "Good night," he said quietly. "Be careful about that McMillan bloke." When Hermione did nothing but merely roll her eyes, the corners of Ron's mouth came down. "I'm serious."

"I think," Hermione said, tapping Ron none-too-gently on the nose with each word, "that it's time for you to trust me when I say I wouldn't go behind your back with him."

"That's not what I was getting at—"

"Yes you were," Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips. "But until you learn how to stop being so suspicious of me—no more kisses."

"What?"

"You heard me, Ronald Weasley."

"But you like them as much as I do!"

"You need to learn a lesson, my dear Ron," Hermione went on. Ron, in spite of his harsh punishment, had to stifle a grin, noting that Hermione did not deny what he just said.

"You didn't deny it," he said jokingly, in a sing-song voice, tapping her in turn on her nose.

Hermione gave him a strange look. "Deny what? Well, stop changing the subject, Ronald, you're going to need a lesson. No kisses! Until you can learn to trust me."

"But I do—"

"I can tell you're not quite comfortable about my being up here alone with Ernie—"

"Well, what boyfriend wouldn't be?"

"One who trusts their girlfriend, Ron," Hermione emphasized.

Ron was about to retort when this time, Harry looked around the wall of the hallway.

"Oi, Ron, we have to go!"

"All right, Harry, can't a man say goodnight to his—"

Again, Ron was forestalled by Hermione pulling him by the arm towards the Harry and the hallway, in which the Godfather Gang and Ernie were apparently conversing, waiting for them.

"Whoa," Ron said, looking around at the hallway, the walls of which were covered with various portraits. "What is this place?"

"This is our SPELL Corridor," Hermione said, looking around at the Portraits. "Direct Portrait Access to Common Rooms, mainly. Well, we say Portrait, but not all of them are—for instance, the Ravenclaw Common Room is a knob-less door with an eagle knocker whose questions you have to answer—but it's all basically the same, you know, it's all direct passageway here."

"So that Fat Lady's in here?" Seamus asked, tottering unsteadily along on his disguised stiletto.

"Present," the voice of the Fat Lady floated down the hall boredly.

After passing a portrait of a fruit bowl and a stone door with an eagle knocker, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ernie stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was looking extremely cranky and sleepy.

"Password?" she asked silkily.

"Mox innotui umultus," Ernie told her.

"That is correct," the Fat Lady replied, and she swung forward to reveal the Portrait Hole.

"Why does it have to be so difficult?" Neville whimpered, but Ernie appeared not to have heard.

"Well, good night," said the aforementioned boy as imperiously as he could, with a humongous yawn that displayed all of his teeth.

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said, giving him a hug. "Dean, Seamus, Neville," she added, the latter three waving and disappearing through the Hole.

"English? At least in English?" were Neville's last fading words as he was pulled hastily through the Portrait Hole by Dean.

"'Night, Hermione," Ron said, leaning towards her, hoping that she had forgotten the punishment she had laid on him. However, the only thing that touched his lips was her forefinger, which pushed him gently back.

"Forgotten our deal already, have we?" she asked, one finger on Ron's mouth, her free hand on her hips.

Ron merely huffed in annoyance, and, smiling, Hermione patted him robustly on the shoulder. "I love you!"

Harry followed Ron through the Portrait Hole, and glancing back, he thought he could see a look of great satisfaction on Ernie's face. However, before he could dwell on the mystery any longer, Ron's voice broke through his train of thought.

"D'you think we'll be able to get back through? It seems like we can."

"I dunno," Harry said. Pushing the Portrait back open, Harry looked out—but all he could see was the normal seventh-floor corridor outside, and the Fat Lady snorting in annoyance to please shut her Portrait or she would never let them through to the Common Room again, password or not. "It goes back to normal," Harry said, looking around. "That actually is convenient."

"Not to us," Ron said grumpily.

"Still annoyed at the punishment Hermione gave you?" Harry asked shrewdly.

"No, Harry, I'm ecstatic about it," Ron answered sarcastically. "Well, I'm tired—coming up?"

Once they were back in their Dormitory, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already in their beds, the hangings drawn. As Harry began to fish for pyjamas out of his trunk, Ron pulled off his robes, and with a familiar-sounding plop, a firm, round something fell from its breast pockets and fell to the floor. Harry, whose head and torso were currently deep inside his trunk, did not hear, but Ron bent down to the floor and picked up what fell. After staring at it for a while, it came back to him—he had stowed a Minnietree fruit in his robes! But its appearance was beginning to change, somehow. Shrugging, Ron shoved it into the drawer of his bedside table, making a mental note to study it over later the next day.

-x-

When Ron woke up the next morning, his Dormitory was already empty—Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville had evidently left for breakfast already.

"How thoughtful of them," Ron muttered sardonically.

Once he dressed and came down the Boys' Stairs, he found the Common Room empty save for one person—Hermione, who was apparently waiting for him. When he caught her eye, he gave her a smile which was not returned.

"Ron, I want to talk to you," Hermione said without preamble, sitting down on the couch closest to the fireplace.

Walking over, Ron sat beside her. "What is it? I promise, I have complete faith in you—"

"—it's not about that," Hermione interrupted. "I just—I don't—I just don't think this is working out."

"What's not working out?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, her hands flying around as though attempting to talk for her.

"Er," Ron said, trying to understand what she was saying, "your… fish is dying?"

"No," Hermione said after a pause. "I mean… us. We're not working out."

Ron's heart seemed to miss about ten beats, his throat constricting. "What are you talking about?" he finally choked out. "I—we—of course we are! We're… we're soul mates, remember?"

"No we're not," Hermione said firmly.

"So what," Ron asked, desperate to find some sense from Hermione's words, "you're—you're ditching me? Just like that?"

"Well… yes," Hermione said slowly.

"Is there any other reason, besides us not working out? Hermione, I don't think you understand, I lo—"

"—Ernie McMillan," Hermione interrupted dreamily, a smile widening on her face, which looked as though it were bathed in pure sunlight.

"I—what?" Ron spluttered, staring at Hermione incredulously. "What're you—what d'you see in that prat?"

"He's Head Boy, Ron," Hermione said in a slow voice, as though stating the obvious. "He's smart, top in all of his classes… he's never broken a rule—"

"But you've broken a million rules as well!"

"Because I was with you and Harry," Hermione said in the same slow voice. "If I was never with you in the beginning I might've had a higher status."

Ron gaped at her. "But you're already Head Girl! That's as high as you can get right now!"

To his horror, Hermione burst into tears. "No it isn't," she wailed. "Ernie's Headmaster, look!" and she pointed to a spot behind Ron. Turning around, he was met with a rather disturbing sight.

Ernie McMillan was standing on an elevated platform behind him, which he hadn't noticed previously. On his chin was a long, flowing silver beard, which parted around his behemothic stomach, around which he wore no shirt. Tucked under one arm was a Mimbulus Mimbletonia, a plant he recognized as Neville had treasured one himself in fifth year—and under his other arm were three kumquats. Not soon after he had begun to digest this horrible eyesore, Hermione walked towards him as though she were a sleepwalker, giving him an adoring look. To add to his anguish, Hermione gave Ron an evil grin and grabbed Ernie's face and pulled him towards her, their lips meeting. Surprised at how calm his voice sounded, although his insides were burning with extreme anger, all Ron could manage to say was, "You're going with him?"

"Oh, no!" Ernie boomed once he finished snogging Hermione. "We're getting married!"

And all of a sudden, Hermione's robes turned into an immaculate, yet poofy, white dress, and a necktie appeared around Ernie's neck, leaving his gigantic stomach still bare, the only other difference being black trousers replacing his boxers.

"I now pronounce you man and wife!" Snape drawled, appearing unexpectedly in between Hermione and Ernie. "You may kiss the bride."

With a shrill scream of excitement he would have never expected of Hermione, the aforesaid girl leaped into Ernie's waiting arms and leaned in for the marital kiss.

"Don't do it! Don't kiss him!" Ron roared, trying to leap up from the couch, but, looking down, he could see Harry tying him to the couch with Unbreakable Rope. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Tying you to the couch, of course," Harry said conversationally.

"Wha—"

"Now try to get up," Harry snarled cruelly, lashing another rope across Ron's neck.

"How the hell'm I supposed to get up if you're effing tying me to the couch?" Ron demanded. "This is insane, let me go!"

"Get up," Harry insisted, yanking the rope still more tightly around his neck.

"How the hell am I—" Ron repeated, however, Harry interrupted him again.

"Get up! Ron, I'm telling you, get up! Now!"

The thick rope was beginning to cut off his air circulation, and he began thrashing around.

"Get up!"

Wait—thrashing around? He could move his legs? …Well, this was a pleasant surprise.

"GET UP!"

Ron blinked, and all of a sudden, the Common Room melted away, and Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all standing over him, looking concerned. Reaching up to his neck, he pulled away his blanket, which had knotted over his throat. Sitting up quickly and massaging his throat, he shook his head, attempting to clear it of the nightmare.

"Got up then, have you?" Harry asked dryly.

"Yeah—thanks," Ron gasped out, his throat still aching rather abominably. "Blimey—that was weird…"

"Yeah, you should've seen you, thrashing around in your bed as though you were sleeping with a Quintaped," Seamus said. "'Don't do it! Don't kiss him!' you said; don't kiss who?"

Flaming up a fiery scarlet, Ron instead busied with making his bed, but Seamus seemed to take his color as answer enough. Clapping him on the shoulder, Seamus took a deep breath. "Ron, next to Ernie, you are a dashing bloke, all right? Hermione's not going to go with him behind your back."

Ron blinked at Ernie. "You're not—gay, are you? Did that stiletto do something to you?"

Seamus clapped a hand to his forehead as Harry, Dean, and Neville (the latter, of course, mmmergdhfeding at the idea) all groaned in annoyance.

"Hermione's right, you do have a knack for changing the subject," Harry said resignedly. "Look, Ron, you're my best mate, but—"

"It was just a dream," Ron said firmly, turning to face his friends. "You can't control what goes on when you dream, can you?" he asked, directing it mostly towards Harry, who understood only too well what he meant.

Harry threw up his arms placatingly. "All right, we just wanted to help," he said hurriedly. "Well, get dressed, mate, we need to go down earlier today because of our Schedules."

"Oh, right," Ron said, pulling out a pair of maroon socks from his trunk. "Yeah, we get our Courses today, don't we?"

As in his dream, Hermione was waiting for them downstairs; but after hanging back and combing the common room with his eyes for nearly a full minute and convincing himself that Ernie wasn't there, he felt it safe to approach Hermione, who was talking animatedly with Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Neville anyway. When Ron approached, she smiled.

"Well, good morning, Ron," she said. "Did you happen to have any interesting dreams last night?"

Ron, who had began to lean towards her, hoping she had forgiven him already, reared back quickly and glared at Seamus, who attempted to hide behind Harry.

"I forget," he said stoutly, after a pause. After hesitating again he said, "Are they going to give us our schedules before or after breakfast?"

Rolling her eyes at the change of subject, Hermione answered. "They're giving the other years their schedules before breakfast. We're all going to receive ours after breakfast so that the Heads of Houses can sort all of us out a bit better, for our—"

"—Referentially Individualized Chosen Courses!" Seamus said proudly.

There was a pause as everybody stared at Seamus.

"Erm," Hermione said after a while, "right—those… and it's crucial that our Heads of Houses take their time, because we don't want to be put in a stupid subject, you know. Or at least, I don't."

"It had just better not be boring," Dean muttered.

Once the last few fifth-years cleared the Great Hall, leaving hasty trails of scrambled egg behind, Dumbledore stood up from the table, closely followed by the four Heads of Houses, who stood up just as abruptly.

"Professors, if you please…?" Dumbledore murmured to the four Heads. Simultaneously, all four nodded and swept to their respective House Tables.

Professor McGonagall reached the Gryffindor Table and took out a roll of parchment, calling out the roll. After a few minutes, she finally reached "Weasley, Ronald", and scarcely after Ron could get out a "Here", she snapped the roll shut.

"Please get into a straight line, arranged by alphabetical order," Professor McGonagall said crisply.

In the moments that followed, there was much jostling and yelps as the Gryffindors struggled into their spaces accompanied by the other Tables, at which the other Houses had begun to rearrange themselves as well. When order was finally restored, the Heads of Houses, who before had looked so stern, now looked slightly disheveled. Professor McGonagall's nose flared.

"Right," she said after a pause, straightening her top hat, which had slid sideways on her face in the chaos.

Then slowly, she began to progress down the line, talking to each student and tapping blank schedules to fit each student. Harry saw—if he craned his neck just so— Professor McGonagall now speaking to Seamus. After a while, she tapped a blank schedule and it filled with words, and she handed it to Seamus.

At first, Seamus just read through his list. However, when Harry was just about to turn away, a quizzical look appeared on Seamus's face. Looking back at Seamus so quickly he nearly had whiplash (Parvati Patil gave him a strange look), he saw Seamus's expression still hadn't changed, and Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Harry looked back to the end of the line where Ron was and grimaced, gesturing to Seamus. Ron nodded, as he had noticed Seamus as well.

When Harry finally looked back to Professor McGonagall, he turned just in time to see Professor McGonagall hand Hermione a schedule. There was a pause as Hermione read through her schedule, nodding, evidently satisfied with her schedule—then her satisfied expression turned to one similar to Seamus's. She got over her shock soon enough though, and just as she had swept from the Great Hall, Ernie McMillan himself stumped over to the great oaken doors and followed behind her. However, Harry didn't have much time to dwell on the matter, as he heard an audible "Huh?" and looked back to Professor McGonagall, who had just passed Neville, who was staring at his schedule quizzically (although the confused expression on his face seemed normal enough). Finally, Parvati Patil received her schedule and departed for her first period Advanced Divination class, and Professor McGonagall moved on to Harry.

"Ah, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, glancing once at a paper on a clipboard that was hovering in front of her. "Let's see… all right, you signed on for Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Herbology, correct?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Yes, yes, all good marks, I was very pleased—quite a good mark on your Transfiguration final last year as well, very good… hmm…"

There was a pause as Professor McGonagall stared at the clipboard pensively, her lips pursed.

"You'll find this seems to be in order, Potter," she said finally, tapping a blank schedule so that it filled with schedule names and times. "Go on, head to your first period—you'll find that some of your classmates are already there."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, slipping his schedule into his robes without looking at them and exiting the Great Hall. However, instead of departing for his first period, he loitered in the foyer of the castle, waiting for Ron to leave the Hall. After a few minutes, two people passing through who looked as though they had just recently given tantrums, and an angry shouting match that carried through the oaken doors, Ron finally passed through them himself, looking extremely thankful to be leaving the Great Hall.

"Thanks for waiting," Ron said, breathing rather heavily. "You should've seen the Hall, right after you left a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin started—well, let's just say that Professor Flitwick can now be called a tiny terror and Professor Snape's just a bit more oilier than usual—"

"—oilier?"

"Let's just say it's unnaturally natural. And—"

"No!" Harry said hastily. "No, I think the information you've just given me was good enough, thanks."

Ron snorted and took out his schedule, which he had stowed in a pocket of his robe. "Did you look yet?"

Harry shook his head and pulled his schedule out from the breast pocket of his robes. "If you're ready," he said, keeping it folded.

"If you're ready," Ron said.

The two looked at each other for a moment, and then nodded.

Harry James Potter

Herbology-Professor Sprout-Hufflepuff
Charms-Professor Flitwick-Ravenclaw
Morning Break
Potions-Professor Snape-Slytherin
Transfiguration-Professor McGonagall-Hufflepuff
Lunch
Double Lessons in Classroom 97-TBA-select
free
Defense Against the Dark Arts-Professor Humptrumpet-Slytherin
free

Harry felt the same confused look he saw on Hermione, Dean, Seamus, and Neville etching his face. Looking up, he saw Ron looking at his own schedule strangely, his eyes fixed on one particular spot.

"Ron?" Harry said, looking back to his schedule. "What is your fifth period class?"

"Actually, I dunno," Ron said. "That's the confusing part—it just says where it's going to be, but I don't have my books or anything. Do you?"

Harry hadn't thought about that. "No. I never thought of that," he stated out loud. "Do you know who your teacher is?"

"Yeah, about that—TBA? The Biggest Arse—?"

"Er… no. To Be Announced," Harry said, remembering with great disdain the acronym from many of Uncle Vernon's numerous papers about drills. "Well, how about your classroom? Does your schedule say which room you're in?"

There was a pause as Ron peered at his schedule. Before he could take a proper look, however, a little voice sounded in his head.

Amazing… did Ernie just make a joke?

Ron dropped his schedule and felt his head; he hadn't heard Hermione's voice in his mind for months—and why was she thinking about Ernie?

"Ron?"

Ron's head snapped back in Harry's direction. "Oh—sorry; what did you ask me again?"

"What classroom is your fifth period in?" Harry asked him again.

Again, Ron peered at his schedule.

"Ninety-seven."

-x-

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, as she reached Hermione. "Of course, I don't think I need to tell you that you had top marks in everything in your final exams last year. I wouldn't be surprised if every job you ever applied for in the future accepts you instantly—yes, I think you're quite cleared for everything—" she checked the levitating clipboard that was hovering in front of her nose—"yes, it's all in order. Quite. Here you go." And with that, the professor handed a newly-filled schedule to Hermione, who took it eagerly, nearly snatching it from Professor McGonagall's hands.

She roved over her schedule, feeling her eager expression fail into one of confusion.

"Professor, what about my fifth period class? I don't—"

Professor McGonagall was already looking over another classmate's schedule, and looked quite irritated at the interruption. "Just do what it says on your schedule, Miss Granger, now go ahead, you're already quite late for your first class." She moved along the line to Neville, who was looking quite terrified.

Not wishing to disagree with a woman who could change quite easily into a cat that could scratch half of your face off, Hermione sighed and left the Great Hall. Scarcely had she just pushed the doors to the Great Hall open and exited it did the doors swing open again, and there stood Ernie McMillan.

"Oh, hello, Ernie," Hermione said, turning to look at her fellow Head Student. However, there was no need to turn around as far, as Ernie had already caught up with her.

"Got your schedule then, have you?"

"Of course not, Ernie," Hermione replied dryly. "I just stayed in the Great Hall for a few minutes after breakfast for absolutely no reason."

"What's your first period class?" Ernie continued, ignoring Hermione's snide comments.

"I have first period Herbology," Hermione said.

Fully expecting Ernie to drop behind and walk up the staircase to the second floor, Hermione was surprised when he accompanied her to the castle door.

"What are you doing, Ernie? Aren't you going to class?"

Ernie gave Hermione an exasperated look. "I would never dream of skipping class, Hermione," he said in a condescending tone. "I have Herbology, too."

"Oh," Hermione said. "You have your books, then?"

"I carry all of them with me on the first day," Ernie said, holding a bulging knapsack out to Hermione for her inspection.

"Really?" Hermione asked, as they rounded the pathway that took them to the Greenhouses. Withdrawing a bag from inside her robes, she showed it to Ernie. "So do I!"

"Great minds think alike," Ernie said, waving a hand, although looking quite pleased with himself.

Amazing, Hermione thought to herself, did Ernie just make a joke?

"Have you started reading Dangerous Plants for the Daring Herbologist?" Hermione asked him, pulling out the Herbology book from the bag and stowing the rest away. "It's really an interesting read."

"I just started reading it last night, before I went to bed," Ernie said, pulling out his own copy and flipping through it. "And really, none of these plants are all that dangerous if you know how to control them."

Hermione felt impressed. "Yeah, you're absolutely right. What do you think about Herbology this year? I think it's going to be extremely interesting, if we're going to be studying anything remotely like the Minnietree."

Ernie nodded. "I'm extremely interested in Evergreen Diligo Vine, myself."

"Evergreen Diligo Vine? I don't think I've reached that chapter quite yet. Which one is it?"

Ernie absent-mindedly flipped through Dangerous Plants for the Daring Herbologist. "Er, a couple chapters after the chapter on the Minnietree, actually. But the chapter in between them was on Mephitic Shrubs, and it was quite long, to tell you the truth."

"I haven't got quite that far yet," Hermione confessed. "But I'm sure they're really interesting, what does the Evergreen Diligo Vine do?"

Just as Ernie opened his mouth to speak, they had arrived at the clearing where the three Greenhouses of Hogwarts resided, and by looking, they could see a few of their classmates inside the third Greenhouse, where they studied more dangerous plants and fungi. Giving Ernie a brief, apprehensive look, Hermione pulled open the door of Greenhouse Three and walked inside.

They were greeted by a roar of surreal noise: Professor Sprout was bustling up and down three rows of long tables, one of which Hermione could see Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones chasing a Poisonous Toad Stool, which was hopping rather quickly away. With a jolt of pleasant recognition, Hermione could see Seamus standing over a barrel, peering rather nervously into its depths. Justin Finch-Fletchly was standing behind him, looking equally jittery, saying, "Go on, just grab one!" Seamus made an angry retort… and just as Hermione turned to put her things on an empty table, Professor Sprout loomed up in front of her (or as best as she could, for Professor Sprout was roughly a head shorter than her).

"Ah, Miss Granger—and Mr. McMillan, yes, go ahead, put your things down and get to work! Since this is the first lesson, we're starting on something small—Poisonous Toad Stools, first chapter, I'm sure you've read…?"

Remembering the chapter, Hermione nodded. "What do you want us to do with them?"

Professor Sprout nodded at the barrel which Seamus seemed about ready to kick. "All of my little Toad Stools are in there," she said. "I want you to pair up—yes, you and Mr. McMillan are fine—I'm sure you know that these Toad Stools contain a large amount of venomous spores that are quite useful in Hiccupping Solutions if diluted properly, but if not diluted properly, quite interesting effects may happen…

"So, you and Ernie shall take a Poisonous Toad Stool and attempt to collect a cup-full of Toad Stool spores for me so that Professor Snape can have a good stock for his fifth-years. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Professor," Ernie said.

Once Professor Sprout had left to sort out Justin and Seamus, the latter getting the heel of his disguised stiletto stuck in the barrel, Ernie turned to Hermione. "Let's get to work, then?" he asked her, picking up two pairs of protective gloves from the pile on the table beside him.

Glancing at the Greenhouse Door, Hermione reluctantly accepted a pair of protective gloves from Ernie and followed him to the barrel, wondering what Ron would think when he saw her paired up with Ernie. Of course, it wasn't her fault, but Ron was becoming awfully paranoid these days—well, he'd just have to live with her being Ernie's partner for the day.

Once Ernie and Hermione had successfully retrieved a Toad Stool from the barrel—it was surprisingly difficult, each stool was extremely slimy and difficult to extricate from the barrel, not to mention that each one had roots shaped in the appendages of a real toad, enabling the horrible mushroom to wriggle and hop away—the door to the Greenhouse swung open, and Harry and Ron came inside, talking rapidly about—fifth period, was it? With a lurch of discomfort that had nothing to do with the Toad Stool that was currently writhing in her hands, she hurriedly carried the mushroom to the portion of table that she and Ernie would be working on. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Professor Sprout telling Harry and Ron what they would be doing in class today. Good. Ron hadn't seen who she was working with yet. Hoping that Professor Sprout would buy her a bit of time to think, Hermione released the Toad Stool, which swayed on the spot for a few minutes, then suddenly bolted down the table in Ron and Harry's direction.

Shite! Hermione thought furiously to herself. Totally forgetting about the wand that she had tucked in her robe pocket, she began to chase the stubborn Toad Stool. Ernie, a little late on the uptake, blinked owlishly at her retreating figure before running after her.

Hermione, intent on catching the Toad Stool before it would run into Harry, Professor Sprout, or—Merlin forbid—Ron, did not notice where she was running; her eyes were fixed on the escaping stool, and she must not let it escape. Those were the only words ringing in her head.

Must not let it escape.

Must not let it escape.

Must not let it escape.

Must not let it—

THUD.

With a burst of realization, Hermione crashed to the floor; her Toad Stool, making a strange croaking sound, soared through the air and out the closing door of the Greenhouse, but she barely noticed it—all she knew was that she had ran into a person, and if this didn't bring about Ron's attention, she didn't know what would. This was extremely bad.

Groaning, Hermione slowly opened her eyes and looked at the person she had just run into. Then, profane phrases erupted in her brain.

Shite.

Damn.

Buggeration.

Striving to keep her voice casual, Hermione made a brave attempt at a smile. "Hello, Ron! Erm—those… Toad Stools, extremely…"

But her voice trailed off, and she and Ron merely stared dumbly at each other from the floor.

The moment was made no easier when Ernie, not seeing the two sitting awkwardly on the floor, tripped over Hermione's shoulder and fell on top of Ron.

finite