2.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were all sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It was winter now, but the common room was toasty, because of the large fire in the huge fireplace on the other wall.
Harry groaned. "Have you seen how little there is on troll rebellions in these books? I still need 10 more inches and I've covered everything I can find. I've done all the major rebellions, and the minor ones as well, all the way back to 1100."
"What's the point?" Ron said. "We're never going to need this anyway. No-one's going to offer you a job because you could describe in minute detail Ulric the Ugly's battle strategy, or Bertha the Bad-Breathed's make of club, are they?"
"No," said Hermione, "but maybe if you applied yourselves more during the lessons you might actually have learnt something that you could write about, rather than doing it in the last five minutes before the actual class. I finished hours ago."
"Shut up, Hermione," said Ron.
Hermione gave him a look that would have melted iron, and he tensed, waiting for the blow. But luckily for him, the bell rang and instead she grabbed her books and walked hurriedly off to Professor Binn's lesson. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, picked up his quill, wand and books, and followed suit. Harry scrawled 'The End' in big letters on the end of his parchment, and followed him. He wondered why Hermione had been so stressed and sort of distant recently. The pressure they were under to do well in their O.W.L.'s was heavy, he knew, but Hermione had never been one to get upset over school work before. In fact, she rather seemed to enjoy it. Harry couldn't understand why - playing Quidditch was so much better than being stuck in a musty classroom all day.
He sat down at his desk, fully occupied with a day-dream in which he had just won the house-cup for the seventh time running having beaten Malfoy to the Snitch at the last minute. As he sat down, he half-heard Lavender Brown and one of her sillier friends giggle behind him.
"Just ignore them," hissed Ron, "they aren't worth it."
But Harry wasn't listening. Malfoy had just been expelled for breathing, and Cho Chang had just rushed up and told him how much she adored his skill at Quidditch, how brave he was, how…
Harry never did discover his third most attractive inner quality, because at that moment Professor Binns strode in and shut the door with a bang. His daydream evaporated, and he turned his attention to the History of Magic lesson.
Hermione, however, couldn't concentrate. Sitting the other side of Harry, she suddenly realised that she had never realised before how wonderful he smelt. It was like freshly- cut grass, (probably from playing Quidditch), and apples, and a strange, exotic scent she couldn't quite put a name to. She wished she could bottle it, and maybe keep it somewhere so that he would always be with her. Don't be silly, she told herself. Harry has plenty of admirers. Lavender Brown for one. She really annoyed Hermione, with her giggling and whispering behind corners. Harry would never notice her, Hermione, his best friend since what felt like forever. Her teeth were good, she knew, down to the brace she'd just had taken off, but her hair was so like a haystack that people would probably start looking for needles in it soon. If only she were a little taller, a little slimmer…maybe then…
She started as Professor Binns dropped last week's homework on her desk. She had got full marks again. The note read, in his spidery handwriting,
'Excellent again. Perhaps we should discuss the possibility of you taking Advanced History of Magic for your O.W.L.s, with extra tutoring.'
Hermione would have been flattered, except that she had already had the same offer from every teacher she had, with the exception of Snape, who still hadn't forgiven her for that lesson in October. She blushed just thinking about it.
Ron groaned and snatched her paper away. "Top marks again? Hermione, how do you do it? It's just like turning on a tap for you, isn't it. Names, dates, makes of troll club…it's all here."
Hermione snatched it back. "Well, maybe if you applied yourself…"
Ron groaned again, and rolled his eyes. "Save the lecture, Mother."
Professor Binns rapped his wand on his desk, and everyone turned to the front and began to take notes on 'Great troll leaders of the 13th Century.' Hermione mentally pushed all thoughts of Harry as far away as possible, and began to write.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were all sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It was winter now, but the common room was toasty, because of the large fire in the huge fireplace on the other wall.
Harry groaned. "Have you seen how little there is on troll rebellions in these books? I still need 10 more inches and I've covered everything I can find. I've done all the major rebellions, and the minor ones as well, all the way back to 1100."
"What's the point?" Ron said. "We're never going to need this anyway. No-one's going to offer you a job because you could describe in minute detail Ulric the Ugly's battle strategy, or Bertha the Bad-Breathed's make of club, are they?"
"No," said Hermione, "but maybe if you applied yourselves more during the lessons you might actually have learnt something that you could write about, rather than doing it in the last five minutes before the actual class. I finished hours ago."
"Shut up, Hermione," said Ron.
Hermione gave him a look that would have melted iron, and he tensed, waiting for the blow. But luckily for him, the bell rang and instead she grabbed her books and walked hurriedly off to Professor Binn's lesson. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, picked up his quill, wand and books, and followed suit. Harry scrawled 'The End' in big letters on the end of his parchment, and followed him. He wondered why Hermione had been so stressed and sort of distant recently. The pressure they were under to do well in their O.W.L.'s was heavy, he knew, but Hermione had never been one to get upset over school work before. In fact, she rather seemed to enjoy it. Harry couldn't understand why - playing Quidditch was so much better than being stuck in a musty classroom all day.
He sat down at his desk, fully occupied with a day-dream in which he had just won the house-cup for the seventh time running having beaten Malfoy to the Snitch at the last minute. As he sat down, he half-heard Lavender Brown and one of her sillier friends giggle behind him.
"Just ignore them," hissed Ron, "they aren't worth it."
But Harry wasn't listening. Malfoy had just been expelled for breathing, and Cho Chang had just rushed up and told him how much she adored his skill at Quidditch, how brave he was, how…
Harry never did discover his third most attractive inner quality, because at that moment Professor Binns strode in and shut the door with a bang. His daydream evaporated, and he turned his attention to the History of Magic lesson.
Hermione, however, couldn't concentrate. Sitting the other side of Harry, she suddenly realised that she had never realised before how wonderful he smelt. It was like freshly- cut grass, (probably from playing Quidditch), and apples, and a strange, exotic scent she couldn't quite put a name to. She wished she could bottle it, and maybe keep it somewhere so that he would always be with her. Don't be silly, she told herself. Harry has plenty of admirers. Lavender Brown for one. She really annoyed Hermione, with her giggling and whispering behind corners. Harry would never notice her, Hermione, his best friend since what felt like forever. Her teeth were good, she knew, down to the brace she'd just had taken off, but her hair was so like a haystack that people would probably start looking for needles in it soon. If only she were a little taller, a little slimmer…maybe then…
She started as Professor Binns dropped last week's homework on her desk. She had got full marks again. The note read, in his spidery handwriting,
'Excellent again. Perhaps we should discuss the possibility of you taking Advanced History of Magic for your O.W.L.s, with extra tutoring.'
Hermione would have been flattered, except that she had already had the same offer from every teacher she had, with the exception of Snape, who still hadn't forgiven her for that lesson in October. She blushed just thinking about it.
Ron groaned and snatched her paper away. "Top marks again? Hermione, how do you do it? It's just like turning on a tap for you, isn't it. Names, dates, makes of troll club…it's all here."
Hermione snatched it back. "Well, maybe if you applied yourself…"
Ron groaned again, and rolled his eyes. "Save the lecture, Mother."
Professor Binns rapped his wand on his desk, and everyone turned to the front and began to take notes on 'Great troll leaders of the 13th Century.' Hermione mentally pushed all thoughts of Harry as far away as possible, and began to write.
