"...you know, something to retrieve a lost memory?"
Snape stared at her. "Miss Granger, you are going to have to be much more specific. Is it something that you've simply forgotten, such as where you've placed your keys-"
"No, no!" Hermione said, waving her hands. "It's not that at all."
"Were you knocked out unconscious?" asked Snape, sounding rather bored.
"Perhaps?"
"Perhaps?" repeated Snape, looking much more irritated than before. "I, Miss Granger, happen to be very busy, and I don't have time for this nonsense. You can either tell me what happened so I may tell you if there is a potion for it, or-"
"I was drunk!" cried Hermione.
There was a bit of silence.
He clenched his jaw. "Miss Granger, are you trying to tell me that you've come to your potions master to inquire about a...hangover?"
Ouch.
"It's not exactly as it sounds, professor," she said carefully, "but I guess...I suppose...yes? I don't remember anything, and I really, really, have to. And I suspect it may have been more than the alcohol. Perhaps a charm."
"Well, Granger, it's going to be difficult unless you know for sure. You would probably have to get something that would work for memory loss due to alcohol consumption, and then if that doesn't work, go for some of the more complicated potions."
She sighed. "I suppose that would be the way," she said. "What's the potion for the first one and where can I get it?"
Snape looked as if he would throw something. "I'm your Potions professor, Granger, not your local...what do those Muggles call them...farmarcists? Pharmacists? You're a student, you do your own research and concoct your own potions."
And with that Severus Snape motioned for her to get out of his office, which she did hastily.
t.
Draco Malfoy strolled down the halls of Hogwarts, his hands in his pockets and in deep thought. Making Granger think she had slept with him had definitely got her attention, but the whole thing was backfiring on him. She hated his guts - although it's not as if she was fond of him before - and she was turning him into an insomniac.
"You're doing it all wrong," Blaise had said to him the night before. "You're supposed to be charming and gentle and caring. You can't hope to hold on to your bad boy image and win over a girl like Granger at the same time."
"Why the hell not?" Draco asked.
"Because girls like Granger aren't into that kind of guys at all?"
"So what do you want me to do, ask her out on a date?" Draco asked incredulously.
"Would that be so hard to do?" Blaise asked back.
Well of course.
Asking Hermione Granger out would be a nightmare. There was no way she would say yes.
"Then you are doing it wrong," Blaise said with a grin. "You've got a long way to go and win her over, mate."
Draco scowled. "Are you doing any better? Would the Weaslette accept if you asked her out?"
"Perhaps," said Blaise. "I bet you I've got loads better chance than you've got."
"Oh really?"
t.
Neville gulped.
"Lavender?" he asked.
"Yes," said Lavender Brown.
He gulped again. "You're not," he said bravely. "I saw Lavender two minutes ago, and she wasn't dressed like that!"
"Does it matter who I am?" asked the girl, her lips curling into a seductive smile as she took a step closer to him.
"Of, of course it does," he stammered, frozen to the spot.
She took another step and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you...sure?" She leaned in and nibbled him on his left ear. He trembled. "You like this," she whispered. "Can you honestly say you don't?"
"N...not really," he said truthfully. He was never good at lying.
She laughed softly. "If you like this...and you want to know who I am...and you can keep it a secret," she said slowly right beneath his ear, "come to the Lady Olympia painting on the fourth floor at midnight tonight."
"Th...that's after curfew," he gulped nervously. "We're not supposed to be out-"
"-come on, Neville," she whispered, "you gotta play naughty sometimes."
t.
Hermione put her hands on her hips.
"You don't have to be angry with me," said Ron miserably.
"Yes, I do!" said Hermione curtly. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Luna and Vivian away from you and Natalie? I had to listen to a combination of complete nonsense and endless gushing for two whole hours! And what did you get done? Nothing! Nothing at all!"
"Hermione-"
"Don't you Hermione me right now!" she yelled.
Hermione had taken to the burden of keeping Vivian and Luna company so that Ron could have some time alone with Natalie, and apparently for two hours he had only done homework, frozen as a stick.
"You never do homework!" spat Hermione. "You choose that moment to do your homework?"
"I didn't know what to say!" cried Ron.
Hermione massaged her temples. Her ears were sore from dealing with Luna's nonsensical ramblings and Vivian's endless questions about and praise for all the Golden Trio had done over the years. "I thought she was going to write our biography or something!"
"I'm really, really, sorry," said Ron apologetically. "Next time-"
"There will not be a next time, Ron!" cried Hermione. "You can't possibly expect me to endure these girls all by myself!"
Ron thought.
"Perhaps Harry can help you?"
t.
"Draco, come on. It's too soon," said Blaise, rolling his eyes at his friend's immaturity.
"You said you've got loads better chance that I've got," said Draco with a sneer, "let's see you take a shot."
"Why now, when I'll have much better chances later on? You're just trying to get me to fail so you'd feel better about your own lack of progress with Granger."
"Perhaps I am," said Draco. "Or perhaps you are scared!"
"Please, Draco. We are not five years old. I have no reason to do this. Unles-"
"Unless what?" asked Draco.
"Unless you will do the same."
"You want me to ask Ginny Weasley out?"
"You know exactly what I meant, mate."
"Because you know, Ginny Weasley, I've got a fresh blank page to work from-"
"-Draco."
"Fine."
t.
Hermione dragged out a large leather-bound book from the shelf. She read the title carefully: "Intoxication and Memory Loss: Potions for Cure". She nodded to herself, satisfied. She placed it carefully on top of her already large stack of books, climbed down the step ladder, and took a deep breath before attempting, with much difficulty, to lift them.
"Need help?"
She turned sharply. Draco Malfoy stood there, in all of his glory, leaning lightly against one of the shelves.
"No," she said coldly. A book fell from the top of the stack, and in one swift movement, Draco caught it.
"'Intoxication and Memory Loss,' huh." he read.
"Give it back, please," she said sharply. Instead of obliging, however, Draco grabbed five more books from her stack. "Hey!" she cried.
"I'm just carrying them for you, don't sweat yourself," he said casually.
"And why?" Her voice was as icy as ever.
"Haven't you ever heard of the Slytherin Male Honour?" he asked in feigned surprise.
"Frankly, no. And I also doubt it exists at all."
"Well, it does," he assured her.
"And what does," said Hermione slowly, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at him, "this Slytherin Male Honour entail?"
He feigned surprise again. "Surely you've seen it within other Slytherin fellows and myself."
"I am afraid not," she said, "if the word 'honour' is used as it is used normally and ubiquitously."
"I assure that it is," he said, nudging his head toward the front of the library. She followed with her eyes still suspicious, her stack of books much lighter.
"Thank you, I suppose," she said curtly as he placed her books on the counter.
"You're welcome, I suppose," replied Draco.
Why was he acting so gentlemanly?
"I still don't believe you, in case you were wondering," she said without being asked, crossing her arms.
"Believe me about what?" he asked.
"A-about what supposedly happened that night," she said very fast. "I don't believe it."
"Fine."
"W-what?"
He shrugged. "I suppose there may have been some...exaggeration. I apologize."
What in Merlin's name...? Hermione began to seriously wonder if something had hit Malfoy across the back of his blond head. "Well, alright," she said at last.
He smiled secretly to himself. Things were going smoothly. He knew, however, it was too early to ask her to do anything than to stop hating him. She'd get suspicious; he had already seen her non-believing eyes at the first sign of some decency. Was he that bad?
Eh, perhaps.
t.
Neville walked the halls carefully and cautiously, his heart beating fast. It was two minutes to midnight, and he was looking for the portrait of Lady Olympia. He had seen the portrait before; it was of a beautiful, middle-aged woman with milk pale skin and blood red lips. She was breathtakingly gorgeous and also somehow very, very dangerous-looking.
At last, he got to a corner.. He knew that the portrait would be at the end of the hall, and that his mystery girl (if she was a girl, he hoped) would really have nowhere to hide from his view if she had shown up and were waiting for him. He took a deep breath. He turned the corner.
He drew in his breath sharply.
"Hello, Neville," came the sultry voice of Ginger Stotts.
