The day did not improve. Potions lesson was an absolute disaster. Every feeble attempt Hermione made to apologise to Parkinson was thwarted by deadly angry stares from her, leaving Hermione blushing as red as a ripe tomato, her cheeks radiating heat like a hot pan and hoping the earth would open up and swallow her whole. But there was no rescue from the embarrassment and unease caused by those dreaded words Hermione blurted out "I made Parkinson wet"
This coupled with the image of Parkinson's tanned breasts beneath her wet shirt dancing through her mind made the potions lesson absolute torture.
Professor Snape did not help matters purposely sprouting the word wet at any opportunity, smiling as he did so.
Most of the class turned to Hermione every time Professor Snape said it. Seamus, in particular, taking the opportunity to stare at Parkinson with the same lecherous look he reserves for Madam Rosmerta and her ample bosom.
Every time he looked over a surge of heated energy and conflicted emotions raced through Hermione. Her hands twitched in irritation. Annoyed energy flowing through every muscle. Feeling like she was actually going crazy, it took every ounce of Hermione's restraint not to send a paralysing hex his way.
And now here she was sitting at her desk waiting for Professor McGonagall to finish speaking to another student.
Professor McGonagall had asked Hermione to stay behind once class ended.
Gnawing on her bottom, lip a wave of nervous energy widgets through her body as she wonders what Professor McGonagall may want. She hadn't had her best Transfiguration lesson today. The memory of Parkinson's wet shirt and breasts were seared into her brain and the vibrant images kept popping up throughout the lesson to torment her again leaving her unable to focus properly and with a dull disrupting throbbing below. She still managed to complete her task, admittedly much later and with more mishaps than usual but eventually she still managed to transfigure a teapot into a tiny tortoise and then vanish it.
Even Parkinson herself today had been on the receiving end of Professor McGonagall's stern words of reprimand when Parkinson's tortoise's shell remained a brightly coloured teapot lid that could be removed to show the tortoise within. This reprimand just ended with Parkinson sending more angry stares at Hermione
"Thank you for staying behind Ms Granger"
"That's ok Professor, is everything ok?" asks Hermione nervously. Her leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table
"Oh yes. I wish to request your assistance"
Hermione lets out a breath of relief she did not know she was holding
"Of course" Hermione replies enthusiastically "what can I do to help?"
"One of your fellow classmates could do with assistance with today's class and I believe that a tutoring lesson with yourself would assist them greatly." She pauses as if contemplating whether to say the next sentence or not "It is someone from Slytherin" the professor adds cautiously
Hermione's heart jumps. The only student that she can think of who may need assistance is Parkinson. Dread creeps over her numbing her brain. Her mind paralysed on one thought, and one thought only, how could she possibly sit next to Parkinson and have an intelligent conversation with her while she envisions undressing her.
" Ms Granger, are you ok?" a worried expression crossed Professor McGonagall's face "I assumed with recent events house rivalry could be put aside for a moment"
Professor McGonagall was one of her most favourite teachers so to think that she may disappoint her in any way makes Hermione's stomach drop in shame
"Yes, of course," Hermione replies with a little less enthusiasm but she did not want to disappoint her Professor.
"Very well, I'll send a message to Ms Greengrass to meet you in the library this evening after dinner"
The shock registering on Hermione's face before she could hide it. Hermione swears see she's a small thin smile play on Professor McGonagall's lips but it quickly replaced with her usual stony composure.
"Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass" Hermione repeats slowly, clarifying whether she heard correctly
"Is there a problem Ms Granger?" ask Professor McGonagall
"Oh, no not at all, I just thought..." Hermione trails off
"Very well Ms Granger, off you go" professor McGonagall orders, leaving Hermione perplexed and relieved.
Things had seemed to return back to normal by the end of dinner. Ron could not believe the audacity of Professor McGonagall, their head of house, to ask Hermione to help a Slytherin. His hatred for the green and silver house ran deep. Harry just asked Hermione to be careful as Slytherin's couldn't be trusted, Hermione would pat Harry's shoulder reassuringly and Parkinson, well every time Hermione chanced a glance towards Parkinson, she was rewarded with an icy angry stare, which only seemed to have increased after their Transfiguration class. Yes things seemed to be back to normal except for the constant arousing thoughts of Parkinson's breasts and rear. Madam Pomphrey was right mused Hermione, sometimes thoughts can leave deeper scars
Waiting in the library for Daphne to arrive, Hermione nervously places her books and supplies in order. She always felt a little calmer when things were set out neatly.
Hermione didn't know too much about Daphne other than she was one of Parkinson's gang members, had sometimes laughed at Parkinson's taunts towards Hermione and came from a very old wizarding pureblood family. All of which meant she probably despised Hermione as much as Parkinson did
"Hi" came a soft timid voice
It was Daphne Greengrass
"Hello there" replies Hermione cautiously
There is a thick awkwardness that cannot go unnoticed. This was the longest conversation Daphne Greengrass and Hermione have had in all their years of schooling.
"Thank you for agreeing to help me with this assignment," says Daphne sheepishly as she sits next to Hermione and begins collecting her supplies from her bag
Hermione is taken aback by the politeness of Daphne. It is not something she is accustomed to receiving from a Slytherin.
Despite the polite words, there is an uneasy tension in the air. It reminded Hermione of the times her parents were invited to dinner parties with people who were acquaintances more than real friends. Post dinner Hermione and the other children would always be cheerfully encouraged to go play a game. As if being roughly the same age meant that they would have a lot in common and make wonderful friends. Forced to make polite conversation with other children she actually had nothing in common with was never enjoyable for anyone. She longed for the evening to end, just as she wanted this tutoring session to end.
Deciding it was easier to focus on tutoring than any forced polite niceties Hermione asks
"What exactly can I help you with?"
"The Vanishing Spell, I just can't seem to get it to work". Daphne pauses "I mean it's not like I'm trying to turn someone into a ferret" she adds, giving Hermione a devious sideway glance
Hermione's face is washed blank with confusion like her brain cogs can't turn fast enough to take in whether she had actually just heard Daphne Greengrass make a joke at Draco Malfoy, her fellow Slytherin's expense.
There is an undeniable small smile on Daphne's lips.
Hermione begins to giggle at the memory of Malfoy being transformed into a snowy white ferret by Professor Moody in their fourth year. Remembering how he scurried about and was unceremonially thrust down Crabbe's pants has both Hermione and Daphne dissolving into a puddle of laughter. Hermione's stomach shakes as she fights a new gale of giggles. The stress and tension she was feeling regarding tutoring a Slytherin washing away.
"Having fun with her Greengrass?"
They look up to see Pansy Parkinson is staring down at them, arms folded with that fierce look Hermione has become accustomed too. The laughter and smiles fade fast from their faces. Daphne shifts uncomfortably in the seat next to Hermione.
Whether it was the stress of the day, or the ferocity of the words and look, Parkinson, was aiming at her, or the fact that Parkinson had interrupted her first decent conversation with a Slytherin, Hermione's eyes narrow as anger begins simmering deep in her belly. Parkinson may be causing a tidal wave of confusing emotions within her, her presence may have even distracted Hermione throughout her Potions and Transfiguration class, and every other waking moment if she was honest with herself, but that pretty face wasn't going to stop Hermione from defending herself in this instance.
"Actually Parkinson, we were just discussing the finer points of transforming someone into an animal, a ferret for instance, " says Hermione folding her arms across her chest, her heart beating furiously.
Hermione smiles triumphantly at the shocked look on Parkinson's face. Her back stiffens, raw adrenalin pulsates through her veins as she prepares for an onslaught of arsenal that is about to be fired her way as Parkinson's eyes also narrow and her shoulders push up straight ready for a fight.
Unbridled energy crackles between them. The air is so brittle it could snap and crack at any moment.
Hermione is only mildly aware that Daphne, like a ringside spectator at a world-class boxing match, is eagerly looking between herself and Parkinson, not quite sure what to do.
"Everything ok Hermione?"
It's Harry. The words may be directed at Hermione but his bright green eyes are focussed purely on Parkinson.
"Oh, if it isn't lover boy to the rescue" spits Parkinson rolling her eyes dramatically, "come to carry her off in your arms have you?"
Of all the things Hermione expected Parkinson to say, insinuating her and Harry were together was not one of them. Hermione notices Harry is equally taken aback.
"What?" questions Harry "Hermione and I..." he starts but is cut off by Parkinson
"Tell me" she continues "how does the Weasel feel being the third wheel, knowing he'll never get a piece of the know it all golden girl over there?"
"No one is a third..." Harry starts
"Go on know it all, run into the chosen one arms," Parkinson says turning to Hermione with a look on her face Hermione can't quite place
"Parkinson," says Harry forcefully "you should be nicer to Hermione, she saved your life. And not that it's any of your business why do you even care if Hermione is seeing someone"
"Pffft." scoffs Parkinson "Trust me I don't. I couldn't care less about her" she says briskly as she pushes past Harry towards the library exit.
A stunned silence fills the air.
"Don't mind her" offers Daphne who has found her voice again "she's been snappy ever since that night with the werewolf. I'm not sure what's got under her skin more, that she was almost killed or that it was s Gryffindor, namely you who saved her." she says softly shrugging her shoulders "Could I borrow a quill I've left mine in my dorm?"
That evening lying in bed, Hermione feels like she has been punched in the heart. Parkinson's words echo in her brain I couldn't care less about her. Those simple words hurting and twisting her insides more than any of the taunts or name calling Parkinson has delivered to her in the past. I couldn't care less about her. Her body feels empty drained of all emotion as if her organs have been strangled of any life, a deep melancholy hangs on her for a sadness over something that never was. This is so illogical she tries to convince herself. Her chest is heavy like a burdensome boulder lying at the bottom of a lake. Her lips quiver slightly. A single tear forms, threatening to flow down her cheek as she turns to retrieve a quill from her bag. Taking a deep breath as she fights back tears, stay focused she tells herself and begins scribing from the text Flora For and Against the Dark.
The next day Hermione arrives at her potions early. Today would be the last lesson they would require to complete the Wolfsbane potion, which meant it would be the last day she would have to endure the torment of sitting next to Parkinson.
Running her hands over the face, her muscles ache and hang limp like wet Gillyweed. Her mind fuzzy with tiredness, she knows she stayed up too late reading and trying to abate the haunting thoughts of Parkinson.
Hermione had thought, perhaps hoped that come morning the hurt and pain caused by those 6 simple words I couldn't care less about her, would have eased, but there was no such reprieve, if anything it was as if the dawning of a new day had refreshed the intensity of the words slicing deeper through her insides. She breathes out a tired sigh, her heavy sore eyes beg her to close and rest them just for a moment.
Like she has just been jabbed with an electric prod, Hermione's eyes shoot open, no longer craving sleep. The baby hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand to attention as she smells the sweet intoxicating perfume that has swirled through her senses like the powerful love potion Amortentia. She knows Parkinson has arrived before she even hears the scraping of the chair against the floor next to her. Hermione's heart is hammering but she keeps her face forward refusing to acknowledge Parkinson's presence.
Twenty cauldrons sit steaming on Snape's desk in front of a multitude of brass scales and jars of ingredients. Hermione tries to determine which their cauldron, without success.
The class hushes instantly as Professor Snape swoops in, his long black cloak flowing behind him. Without acknowledging the class and with one swift swish of his wand all the cauldrons and their entire contents rise and slowly in a single file make their way into a cupboard.
Hermione's heart stills for a moment, stunned silence fills the room had everyone failed to brew the potion correctly? Her mind quickly retraces the steps they took to brew the potion thus far, but her tired mind is unable to pinpoint where they may have made an error.
Turning ever so slowly Professor Snape turns to face the class, steadily wrapping his cloak around his chest, his black beady eyes surveying the classroom.
"Why do you not have your parchment and quills at the ready?" Professor Snape asks dangerously
The entire class looks to each other in fear and ignorance. Snape stands still waiting for an answer of sorts
"Allow me to rephrase in terms a first year would comprehend. Why have I stored your cauldrons?"
Of course, Hermione internally reprimands herself as she raises her hand to answer
"Yes Ms Granger"
"The potion requires more time to rest before the remaining ingredients can be added" Hermione answers correctly
"Indeed" Snape pauses "so I take it that you must enjoy your new seating arrangements," he says, a sardonic grin painted on his face "or else you would have scurried back to your original seats for this theory session".
Hermione's face burns crimson. Tingling energy twists in her belly. If she could just vanish from the moment she would. Parkinson shifts in the seat beside her.
"Well what are you all waiting for, get out your parchment and quill and begin by outlining all the uses for the 3 key ingredients used to create Wolfsbane"
A collective groan is heard through the class as Hermione begins to collect her supplies from her bag. A few moments pass and Hermione's breathing becomes more rapid as she starts to rummages through her bag. She has her parchment and inkpot but where is her quill, she normally carries 2, keeping a spare handy just in case of emergencies but she does not even have one in her bag. In a panic, she looks around the room as if it may offer some solution.
Daphne Greengrass she curses to herself at the realisation that she never retrieved her quill from Daphne after last nights tutoring session, and her spare quill is sitting on her bedside table next to the book she was engrossed in the evening previous.
Tension grows in her face and limbs, her mind a carousel of panic, she cannot ask Snape for a quill, the torment she would endure would be catastrophic.
She frantically starts rummaging in her bag again, perhaps she has an old third quill at the very bottom. Her chest begins to restrict straining to inflate her lungs. Why now and why in potions class she asks herself.
A slow movement catches the corner of her eye causing her to stop what she is doing and look up.
Sliding along to her side of the desk is a stunningly beautiful bright red quill, identical to the one she admired longingly in the display window of Tomes and Scrolls during her recent Hogsmeade visit.
Connected to the beautiful quill is the perfectly manicured fingers of Pansy Parkinson. Hermione's eyebrows lift up and curve in surprise at the gesture.
Hermione traces her eyes along the slender hand up Parkinson's arm, Parkinson's head is bowed focussed on the parchment before her, not looking at Hermione.
But the gesture is clear, she is offering her a quill, but not any quill one if the most exquisite quills Hermione has ever seen.
Hermione notices that just top of Parkinson's parchment is a quill that is a distinguished Emerald Green, obviously the sister quill to the one Hermione now has. Hermione can't help but wonder if Parkinson purchased all 4 colourful quills that were on display in Tomes and Scrolls.
"Thank you" whispers Hermione her voice cracking slightly
Parkinson merely nods and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, her dark hair cupping her face and still refusing to look at Hermione.
A warmth of indescribable happiness fills Hermione that she can't help but smile a very small smile.
