Note: The chapters got screwed up and am trying to fix them, so bear with me if they're no in order.


Smugness painted on Hermione Granger is about as subtle as Gilderoy Lockhart's Valentine's day fiasco. She looked at me in the hall, and though I am sure I find this as improbable as you do, she winked at me. A lascivious, naughty, lewd, wanton and utterly unsuitable wink. But I smiled, you have no idea how surprised I was at myself for smiling back at her, only encouraging her in her wanton antics. I replaced it with a scowl, but not before she could shoot an utterly infuriatingly smug smile at me.



I stalked around the hallways, wishing that Potter was here so I could deduct points in mere spite. It was always fun to see his deplorably soft features splay themselves in a mixture of rage and hatred that he could do nothing about. Undoubtedly, I was one of the more ardent resident sadists.




Kindness and an open display of affection had never been a strength for myeslf, but always knowing the answer and what to do have. I found myself between a rock and a hard place. Granger had always had rather precarious emotions, and I wanted nothing of her spontaneous bouts of crying and screaming. One angry bellow was enough, two would quite shatter my eardrums.



And so, I decided to swallow my pride and see fit that a visit to Hagrid was in order.




School grounds at night did nothing to deter me, and I had never found them particularly frightening. The one and only thing that I did find rather ominous was the infamous Whomping Willow, but that is for personal reasons of my own.



Hagrid's house, or hut rather, was almost amusing in its size. I had never seen such a large nor homely house, though it proved to be rather cozy, once he had let me in.




I knocked on the door, and heard him rustling about. Jus' a minute. Tryin' to get tha blasted kettle off the damn.....Ow!, there was a sputtering and a string of what can only be described as Hagrid-esque curses that were emitted. I cringed at the sound.



He opened the door, red faced and heaving. Oh, Professor!, his eyebrows rose to meet his equally bushy hair. I weren't expectin' no company. Come in, come in. Some tea?, he shoved the proferred oily black mass of indeterminate constituents beneath my nose. I shook my head, trying to contain my nausea. One of the more unfortunate traits of a potions master is a nose sensitivity that rivals that of a dog's.



So. What brings you in the dead o' night like this?, I found that Hagrid's eyes had the same infuriating twinkle that Dumbledore's sometimes possesed. Others found it charming and wise, I found it rather demonic.



You've known Hermione Granger since....well, since she first arrived, correct?, I asked, uncomfortable where this conversation could have lead. He nodded, and took an impossibly large and hard looking cookie from the cauldron beside him.



Biscuit? Baked em fresh, I tried not to wince as I heard his teeth audibly cracking against the obviously stone fare.



Can you give me insight as to...well, what kind of things she finds romantic? Enjoyable?, I almost blushed at this one, realising how stupid I must have sounded. To my immense relief, Hagrid's perceptions were a lot more sensitive than his teeth, for he made no mention of my blatant problem.




Well, from what I recall, my Hermione's always been a sensitive girl. Can't help it, you know. People always teasin' her about her muggle parents, bushy hair, large teeth (this inevitably reminded me of the time I had also cruelly remarked upon them as well) and whatnot. She's a big thinker, not a chaser of boys, so if you find her awkward, well, it's cause she don't have a lot of experience, he finished sagely.



Well, that's the thing. I don't find her awkward. I find her entirely too suave and smooth for my liking. She's become......an adult, I finished lamely. Hagrid could not hide his earth shaking chuckle in the mass of food he had decided to cram into his mouth. I ignored this and continued, See, Hagrid, she's given me an ultimatum. I have a week to prove what she's worth to me.



Even he looked shocked, Well, I'm glad to see Hermione puttin' her foot in the ground instead o' her mouth. No offense to you or anything, Professor. First, let's just get this cleared. You love her, don't you?.



I suddenly found that Hagrid's hut had become far more interesting as the conversation coasted into dangerously personal territory. I gave a surly shrug.


Oh! Yeh do! You lurve her!, Hagrid was practically squealing in delight. I sank into the nearest chair, hoping the cushion would devour me in my present state of shame.



So? What do I do now? I can't just go and bloody give her flowers, can I?, the note at the end lilted into desperation, and something akin to malicious brilliance started up in Hagrid's eyes.



There are some interestin' plants round here, Professor. I was just thinkin' about sendin' my Maxine some..., he began to reminisce. I scowled.



Oh? What kinds? And what good would they do me? They're just sodding floweres, I said, rather haughtily. He started up.



Oh, but Professor, I've kept these grounds for longer than you remember, probably. I know every kind o' plant life that grows within six miles o' this castle. There are some very potent akrideziacs that sprouted up a couple o' years ago, he said, keeping his tone purposefully lowered.




Aphrodesiacs, Hagrid. And, speaking of that, do you even know what they are?, I asked irritably. This conversation was not exactly heading in the direction I had hoped.



Of course I do! Ruddy lover's weed is what it's best known for. Most powerful in the land. Not to mention incredible orchids and roses that bloom round here too, he finished thoughtfully, trying to tug on his beard, but only managing to get his fingers tangled.



Does Hermione even like flowers?, I asked warily. She didn't strike me as the Flourish and Blotts Hallmark Cards type.



She appreciated em when Lockhart sent her a bunch in the hospital, said Hagrid craftily. I blanched. And people believed Hermione to be out of her wits when she became involved with me!



Please do not tell me that Hermione was smitten with the snarky, smarmy, cosmetic infused, bewiggéd git that was Lockhart, I began furiously. Hagrid nodded, munching another rock..er..biscuit.



Sure was. All the girls were. Especially in Slytherin house, he added slyly, familiar gleam in his eye. I snorted.


So. Hermione appreciates flowers?, I began again. Hagrid nodded.


Course, she never saw any outright magical ones. Only the silly trick ones that Dumbledore sometimes puts up round the holidays. These I doubt even you've seen, he finished cryptically. I didn't fall for it.


And these insanely pretty flowers, how do we obtain them?, I asked, diving straight for the point. Hagrid looked uncomfortable.


Er...actually, on second thought, how about you just bake her a nice cake?, he asked, finding his own hut more fascinating than my needling stare.


Where do we find them, Hagrid?, I asked softly, using my most buttery voice.


Well....they can be found in caves and such. But we might hafta go and ask the faeries, he admitted finally. Again, I blanched.


Hagrid, there are no faeries around Hogwarts. And Dumbledore expressly forbid their presence in the Forbidden Forest, I said carefully.



Yeah, but they had nowhere else to go! They was gettin' expelled from their own hollows and nests, and they had to come somewhere!, he cried, springing up and spilling the biscuits and tea all over the place. His impossibly large dog began to drool equally impossible amounts of gooey slobber everywhere. It came nosing towards me, and I clambered onto the seat, not wishing to be courted by a hateful looking beast.



Your dog, Hagrid, the threat in my voice was unmistakable, and he snapped out of his mournful reverie. He whistled shrilly, nearly taking of the roof with the sound, and the dog turned away from me, leaving with a not so appetizing view of its rear end.


About these faeries. Why do we have to go to them? I thought you said they could grow in caves, I started up our previously interrupted conversation.


Well, they can. But the ruddy gnomes kept gettin' to em and rippin' up the roots. Those are the dangerous gnomes, those are. Some get to be the size of Neville Longbottom, he said. I shuddered.


Please instill courage, not wither it, I snapped. Hagrid shrugged apologetically. Do they have any other magical properties besides being outstandingly beautiful?, I asked irritably. I wasn't going to go about wading in dark in the Forbidden Forest for a few weeds.


No time like the present, is there Professor?, Hagrid asked suddenly, swinging his lantren and crossbow over his shoulder with alarming abandon, nearly knocking himself over with his haste. He heaved a pair of extraordinarily large scissors, and placed them securely into his belt.



Why now Hagrid? Why not tomorrow? In the afternoon? Or before dinner? What about when there's sunlight and slimmer chances of us getting killed? And why are you taking a weapon?, I asked softly. Hagrid put his provisions back down and sighed heavily.



I knew you was gonna start askin' me ruddy questions. Well, see the thing is Professor...erm...welltheyhaveteethandsometimestheybite , he completed his sentence in a monosyllable and I strained to make out the words.



, I asked incredulously. Only Hagrid would bother picking carnivorous flowers for a woman he was enamoured with.



Kinda. Yeh gotta pick em at the right time o' the month. Otherwise...well...it ain't too pretty what they can do to a face, he finished, almost mournfully. If I was eating something, I would have choked.


Hagrid. In Merlin's bloody visage, do you honestly think I would go about picking flowers that can do irrepairable damage to Granger's face!, I was nearly shouting. He looked affronted.



No, yeh silly git. Oh, I mean Professor. They're the most beautiful flowers in the world, it's just that they don' like people much, he protested. I sighed; I knew that once the idea of showing Hermione these flowers was put in his head, he would never be able to forget it.


So. Ready?, he asked, rubbing his hands together. I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot in a very, very menacing way. Then, of course because Hagrid is twice my size and could easily snap a leg or two, he just laughed.



Oh, and Professor, yeh might want to take this with you. Just in case, he handed me a long sheath filled with the most deadly looking arrows imaginable. Wordlessly, as if reading my mind, he placed a huge, wooden bow on my shoulder.


If I get harmed during this expedition, be sure to murder Granger for me, will you?, I growled at his retreating back.


Don' worry. The worst thing that can happen is that your head'll be swallowed. They don' bother with tearin' or nothin'. They just go for the kill, he said this as if speaking of the accomplishments of his children.


Hagrid, in all seriousness, I assure you I will make an extremely unpleasant ghost, I drawled. He gave me an overview, and nodded in agreement. He proceeded to give me a reassuring pat on the back, but nearly knocked me over in his enthusiasm.



As we left, what sounded like a stifled thunderbolt was emitted from beneath one of Hagrid's massive, wooly blankets. I took a small peek, and came face to face with the slick, disgusting nostril of his dog.


Bloody animal. I'll bet you've never had to do this, I muttered beneath my breath, and slapped the blanket back down.


Don't bet on it, was the reply that was a suspiciously human sounding bark.







A/N: Oh my goodness, I am so sorry for neglecting my story and readers. Do, do, do forgive me. I've been really busy trying to brew up a change of pace. Anyway, I promise lots of humor and Hagrid antecdotes. Anyways, will be more postings with fewer interruptions. I promise. Thanks to all my wonderfully faithful reviwers and readers!