What the Snitch and Pitch Decide

Talon McGreggor

Chp 5-- Potion No. 1

The room, though it appeared quite large before, shrunk. It wasn't large enough for the both of them. Hermione sighed.

"We best get started." Draco sneered. Hermione glared back. "Dare I even ask?"

"We're not working together," he made clear.

"I wasn't planning on it." She strode to the cauldron. Draco wanted to kick her. Using that annoying high-handed tone with him--he was her better! And she had such a look of set stubbornness, how he'd love to wipe it off of her face.

A vision of kissing a girl flashed in his mind. Curious, not believing his suspicions, he probed deeper. His envisioned face lifted from the female's and…

'Ugh!' he thought in disgust. Why would he have fantasies of kissing Mudblood?

'Fantasy now is it, eh, Draco?' Damn that voice in his head.

'No.'

'But that's what you called it.'

'I called it nothing albeit disgusting.'

The voice laughed. He added it to his "Want to Kick" list.

Meanwhile Hermione had read the blackboard. They were each assigned a different potion. 'Funny…' she thought. 'There's only one cauldron.' She spared a glance to Draco. He seemed preoccupied. Maybe he wouldn't notice if she started without him. If he hadn't read the board yet, that was his fault. Goodness knows she didn't want to be stuck in this room with him any longer than necessary. Ingredients began finding themselves chronologically sitting on the table.

"Good. You make it and I'll get the grade."

Hermione didn't look up. "No, Malfoy. I'm making my potion. Then you can make yours."

"There's only one cauldron!"

She tossed her wild mane of hair over a shoulder. "Oh, come off it. We both know I'm the superior potions maker."

"You're a Gryffindor." He said the name like one would spit venom from a wound.

"With more brains than any Slytherin." Content with her lot, she resumed perusing the cupboards.

For once Draco had no retort. Hermione, having assembled all needed ingredients, began work. He conjured a chair and slumped down into a corner. Grumpily, he watched her.

She was like a machine. Did she have everything programmed into her? Each movement was skilled and precise; like watching a younger, female version of Snape. His lip curled. Disgusting. But Hermione, he was forced to admit, was prettier than a female version of their Potions Master. Instead of having overloads of grease, her hair bounced. It had a life of its own with a personified free will. And her eyes weren't black and sallow. They were bright, intelligent, and warm chocolate brown. Like hot cocoa during winter.

'Draco! What the bloody hell are you thinking?!?' If he weren't a Slytherin, he would have turned beet red.

Hermione didn't even look up from her work. 'She doesn't give one wit that you're in the room.'

'Why do I care?'

'Because you want her to.'

'I hate her.'

'You hate her indifference.'

'I don't care.'

'Or maybe you hate that she doesn't approve of you.'

'I don't need a Gryffindor's approval.'

The voice laughed then laughed. He really wanted to kick it.

Apparently the potion was simple, (for her), because when he next spared a glance toward her, she was filling a glass bottle and placing a stopper in it. Smiling, she told him, "Your turn."

"Are you going to clean it, Mudblood?"

With a flick of her wand it was done. He hated how she knew absolutely everything! Everything was so easy! Why couldn't she see the truth behind him…--

'So you do--' Draco tactfully cut off any further thought.

"G'night." She left the room and him to his thoughts.

*`*`*

((A/N: Sorry this is so short--I had it written even before I put that horrible author's note up…but I thought I would add more. Well, this should give you some more food for thought. ::smiles:: Thank you for the reviews! A big 'huzzah' for your next bad day,

`Talon))