Chapter Fifteen
"GRANGER!" Draco bellowed, pulling his wand from his robes pocket. The spleen that had only previously occupied the capacity of his mouth lay on the lawn, forgotten for the time being. His face burned a bright crimson, eyes flaring with a brooding passion. "I'll get you for that. Mark my words… I'll get you!"
Hermione squeaked, unsheathing her wand from her robe sleeve. "Expellimilarus!" she called out, hopelessly fast. Draco's wand flew from his hand, and his body flew backward, crashing into Pansy Parkinson with a 'thud.' Hermione caught Draco's wand in her left hand, whimpering.
"Oh, oh… Draco, I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to, honest." Draco climbed off of Pansy, pushing her away with a sneer. Pansy clung to his arm, muttering soft 'Drakie-poo… you oksie?'s into his ear. He turned to face Hermione, face as crimson as ever.
"Give me my wand," he demanded shortly, turning his head to expel the repulsive taste still within his mouth. "Well? Give it to me. It's mine."
"I seriously didn't want to have to resort to that, Draco."
"But you did. Now give me my wand."
Reluctant, Hermione gripped the handle of Draco's well-broke in wand, and handed it to the waiting blonde-haired man. His top lip quivered for a moment; almost turning up into a curt and nasty smile. After grabbing his wand, he turned on his heel, stalking away without a look back at the trio.
Harry, Ron and Hermione stalked back to the Castle together, waving their DragonHide gloves before them. Harry's eyes misted over with a look of accomplishment, while Ron just looked as though he had a run in with Aragog, the giant spider.
"I can't believe you actually did that to Malfoy!" Ron chirped, face beginning to fill with colour again. "That was so… awesome. That prat didn't see it comin'."
"Yeah, Hermione. How'd you get that fast at reacting?" Harry shook his DragonHide gloves more feverously. "The look on Malfoy's face was priceless!"
Hermione growled in frustration. "I didn't do it purposely! I was alarmed, and reacted by instinct."
"Yeah…" said Ron. "And I'm Albus Dumbledore."
"You are? Well, then… What's the name of your Phoenix's Sire?"
"I… errm…"
"Exactly, Ron. You had best be more careful with your words," Hermione added. Ron clicked his index finger and thumb.
They walked into the Castle, heading down the main hallway to the first stairway on the left. The trio climbed the stairwell, all grasping hold of a banister in case of the stairway deciding to move, transporting themselves up the wooden planks to their next class.
Magical Maladies.
Madame Pomfrey taught the Magical Maladies class; a seventh year course, only. Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the class; they were sharing this course with the Ravenclaws. Madame Pomfrey glared at them. "Take your seats, take your seats!"
The three sat at a table together, pulling out notebooks, quills, and ink bottles. Harry sat a black ink bottle in the middle of the table and Hermione leaned over to dip her quill inside of it. "Oh, Harry… you don't mind, do you? I haven't any ink with me… There's a hole in my bag."
"That's why I put it there, Hermione."
"Thanks," she said, cheeks tinting pink. I feel so stupid… How could I have lost ink bottles?
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, leaning and whispering into her ear. "Don't worry about it. You've got a lot of things on your mind, so… Don't be so hard on yourself."
"Thanks, again."
Class passed by without much interference. They learned what to do to clean a wound, and how to heal it properly. Tomorrow, they would have to practice the wound-cleaning and healing spells on one another. Hermione knew all of this, already… she had read it all in their class book, Magical Maladies and the CORRECT way to do things!
"I'll meet you down at lunch," Hermione told the boys. "I'm going to the Library."
Ron groaned. "So now you want to go to the Library. Honestly! Make up your mind!"
"I've made up my mind," Hermione began, "and I am going to the Library."
Hermione dashed off the opposite way of the boys, running to the Library. Madame Pince welcomed her with a small smile - something that she only welcomed Hermione with, after putting up with her for six long years. Hermione smiled in return, and wandered into the Restricted Section.
She thumbed through the bookshelves again, looking at book spine after book spine, observing the titles carefully. Many books caught her interest - she regarded them with warm pat on the spine, and wrote their names and call numbers in a sheaf of parchment.
Lunch began in five minutes. Hermione stuffed the parchment into her bag, put her quill in her robes pocket and ran out of the Restricted Section. Madame Pince scowled; "Do not run in the Library!"
Piling food onto her plate and eating it as quickly as possible, Hermione dashed through lunch, and back up to the Common Room. She was going to have to organize her notes before going to Double Potions… and she was going to have to talk to him after class tonight. Venenem.
A bark disrupted her thoughts. Hermione turned around, only to find nothing behind her, so she began to work again on the notes. Again, another bark sounded. She turned to look around her, and again, did not see a thing, and turned back to her notes.
But her notes were not there. Instead, there was a large black dog, with gleaming eyes and a toothy-grin on its face. Hermione jumped back, landing on a Common Room chair.
The dog lunged and landed on top of the girl, nuzzling the side of her face with his muzzle. "I'm supposed to be doing my schoolwork!" she muttered into the dog's ear. The dog barked, growled, and licked her cheek with its long, pink tongue.
"Bad Snuffles!" came a voice from the portrait hole. Harry walked inside, grinning at the large dog, still sitting upon Hermione. "Tsk, tsk… and in front of anyone who walked in?" He laughed, plopping down into the chair across from them.
"Harry, helllllp! He won't get off of me."
"I don't suspect that he would want to," Harry joked. Hermione's face burned crimson. "Oh, what's this? 'Mione's blushing?"
"I am not!" she managed rather firmly. "It's just… hot in here, and with this large dog on my lap… Yes, dog," she added, seeing Sirius' big puppy eyes look up at her.
The dog huffed and retreated from its perch from on top of Hermione. He turned his tail toward the girl and walked away, wagging his bum in defiance. Harry cackled loudly, holding his side to keep from falling out of the chair. Hermione tutted, picking up her notes.
"He's such a big baby!"
"Yeah… but at least he can handle you," said Harry.
"And what do you mean by that?"
"Never mind, never mind."
"Whatever, Harry. Anyway… where is Ron? We've got ten minutes until Double Potions. I need to talk to Professor Snape, too…"
Harry gave a shrug. "We were walking up to the Common Room together, and when I walked through the Portrait Hole, he was gone. The case of the mysteriously disappearing Ron!" he added, sarcastically.
"Oh, well… He knows his schedule, I made sure of that. He'll just have to meet us in Potions. Hold on a minute, Harry… I need to get a few ink bottles."
Hermione sat up from her chair and walked up the dormitory stairs. She returned a few seconds later, closing her satchel with a slight frown crossing her lips. Harry began to ask her something, but thought better of it. The two walked out of the portrait hole, and receded to the dungeons.
Professor Snape seemed as moody as ever, if not more. His grimace pierced through the classroom's silence, scowling at the merest of things.
"Longbottom!" he roared, rounding on the round-faced boy. "What do you think you are doing?" His voice hissed, very similar to a snake.
"I… I… I…"
"I, I, I what, Longbottom?"
"I… I don't know, sir."
"Exactly my thoughts. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for not paying attention."
Hermione sucked on her tongue, biting back the urge to jump up and hex Snape to no return. He proved himself as a liable friend - saving Harry, and spying against Voldemort when Dumbledore asked him… but he was still as un-fair as possible, showing favouritism over the Slytherins, and hate against the Gryffindors. Harry growled, and Ron made a violent gesture behind his back.
"And five points from Mr. Weasley. That rudeness will not be tolerated in my classroom. Detention."
Ron's face burned bright red. Hermione hadn't had the chance to ask him where he'd been - they were running late to class, because of a bump-up with Peeves. The poltergeist decided that it would be fun to act as a fountain, and spit urine on them. Hermione transfigured the urine into a gas, and it simply floated away from Peeves.
Peeves was pissed, to say in the least.
But that was the least of Hermione's troubles right now. Professor Snape was… and her plan to start an extra curricular potion that she would need to have the help from Snape to do. He had to, of course, approve of her taste in potion to do. Her luck, he would flat off deny her the privilege.
But what if he didn't?
Hermione gulped up every question that formed into her mind. The what-ifs and the what-abouts ran around in her head, disturbing every other thought she managed to collect.
"What do you think you are doing, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape said from behind her, voice silky with death on the tip of his tongue. "Would you care to explain your antics?"
Blinking, Hermione turned to her Professor. "Explain what, Professor?"
"Explain why you are about to add the Fribicorn to the potion at this time! Haven't I just explained that the Fribicorn goes into the mixture only after the Imechem has been administered! Five points from Gryffindor!"
Hermione pouted out her lips. The What-ifs and what-abouts were taking control of her mind… at least, that's what she would blame it on. She would need to stop thinking about everything except potions to get through the class for today. If that could ever happen.
Time came for their mixtures to brew; and the brew called for fourty-five minutes to complete. The class cleared off their things, washing them in the stone basin in the corner of the class. Hermione stuck her hands under the line of water; it was cold and soothing, making her skin shrivel with Goosebumps.
Professor Snape stood before the class. "While your potion is brewing, you are to copy these into your notes. You will work in silence, or you will be serving a detention with Mr. Filch tonight. I will be stepping out of the class… I will know if you are not doing your work or not."
Seizing the opportunity, Hermione shot her arm into the air. "What is it, Miss Granger? Decide that you need to be in charge of the class while I am out? I think not. Get back to work!"
Time passed; class was now coming to an end. Their brews would have to be tested next potions class. Hermione waited until the class left to approach the teacher.
"Professor Snape?" she asked, wary of her voice's quivering.
Snape glowered. "What is it now, Miss Granger?"
"Professor… I was… Potions is not my best subject. I know that I can do much better than what I have proved to do so in the past, but I would have to do so by extra curricular studies. I was wondering if you would be willing to help me do so…"
The Professor stared at her for a few moments before answering. "Would I be willing to help you do so? Spending time with you after class? This is not a decision lightly taken, Miss Granger, and I would have hoped that you would have put more attention into it. You will have to discuss this with the Headmaster."
Hermione blushed, colour taking to her cheeks. "Oh… I'm sorry, sir." She turned to leave.
"You may, however, be permitted to create one potion under my supervision, and I will give you credit for the creation. The potion you create, however, will determine how little, or how high your marks may be."
Her face brightened. "Thank you, Professor," she said, and ducked out of the room.
Gryffindor Common Room was quite empty when she walked inside. She smiled, soaking up the lone-ness of the room, and sat, once more, in the arm-chair by the fire.
She could use this silence to decide which sort of potion she should create.
Snuffles barked, and hopped into her lap. At that moment, Hermione decided which potion she would like to be creating.
She would be an animagus by the end of this year.