*********
For a long time, that night, after finishing her first letter to her parents, Hermione tried to redefine her relationship with Malfoy in her head. It was incredibly difficult. By the time she'd fallen asleep, she'd made no headway, so just before her eyes slipped closed she resolved to continue pondering the problem the next day. She was firmly committed to that...
At least, until she met the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
The professor hadn't shown up for their first day of class, leaving a group of bewildered Gryffindors sitting at their seats. Most of them finally fell into chatter; Hermione wound up reviewing her Defense Against the Dark Arts notes from the previous year, when they'd had a very nervous professor who she assumed had been scared off.
Their second class was now.
A very normal-looking man in grey robes strode up to the front of the classroom, leaning forward as he walked. He was *exceedingly* normal-looking: it was as if a survey had been put out for the whole of Britain, and a man had been constructed using all the averages. Facial features, hair length, height, everything. Hermione wouldn't have given him the time of day had she seen him on the street, except for the way he carried himself: a little intently, as if he was going to tip over any moment if he didn't push himself forward.
The professor hiccuped when he stopped walking, then clutched at his head. The group before him quieted. "Good morning," he said, a bit quietly, squinting at his students. Then, removing his hand from his temple and swaying a little, he said with a bit more power, "Good morning. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Pinebrow. There will be as little noise as possible in class today. Any questions? Good," he said, not pausing for questions. "Please take out your books."
Seamus Finnegan's hand rose as the rest of the students fumbled for their books as silently as possible, a few even whispering silencing charms at their bags. When the professor didn't seem to notice Seamus, sinking down into the chair behind his desk, Seamus coughed a little into his other hand. Professor Pinebrow winced, looking up to see what the disturbance was.
"Uh, sir," said Seamus, unsure of whether to be quiet or not when asking his question. "If I may ask--er--where were you the day before yesterday?"
Professor Pinebrow scanned the classroom. The rest of the students were nodding, wishing to hear the answer. The professor coughed. "Personal business," he said, then waved a dismissive hand at them. "Open your books and copy something down, will you? Twenty points to Gryffindor if you can get through the rest of the class without making another sound." With that, he slumped down over his desk, head on his arms.
Hermione looked to see how her classmates were responding to this. She was sitting at the desk next to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who had almost immediately begun passing notes back and forth. Drawing out a piece of parchment, Hermione scribbled ~What do you make of this?~ and, crumpling it into a ball, levitated it over to their table. Lavender noticed it by her elbow, looked almost angrily at Hermione, and then the two girls opened it together, reading the words within. For a few minutes they wrote briskly back and forth on their own parchment, then they nodded at one another in unison, and dropped Hermione's parchment on the floor.
Stunned, Hermione turned back to the rest of the class, to see if the exchange had been witnessed. Only Neville was looking at her, with a look approaching pity. Then, thoroughly disgusted, Hermione opened her book and started taking notes.
*********
"You look distracted." Hermione jumped at the observation. She had, in fact, been so distracted that she hadn't heard Malfoy slide into the seat next to her. For the past thirty seconds she'd been staring, unseeing, at her unopened Potions book.
"Have you had Professor Pinebrow yet?"
"Who?" Malfoy plopped down his books.
"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Oh, is that his name? We had him yesterday. He wouldn't wake up. I know," he smiled, "because my class tried *everything* they could to wake him."
"Like what?"
"Nursey rhymes at full volume, for starters," he said, and Hermione began to smile. "Have you ever heard *Zabini* saying 'Little Miss Muffet'?" Malfoy mock-shuddered. "*That* can suck all the joy out of a room."
A picture formed in Hermione's head, and she gave a snort of surprised laughter. "I could just picture that," she said, continuing to do so, which only made her laugh some more. It was almost as if Harry or Ron were sitting next to her, saying what they usually...she sobered. "Malfoy," she began, meaning to ask him something important.
"'Draco,'" he interjected before she could finish.
"What?"
"'Malfoy' 's what you'd call an enemy." He looked into her eyes intensely, and finally Hermione had to break away shyly.
_Oh, are we friends, then?_ she asked inwardly, jumping back into defining their relationship. "All right," said Hermione carefully, looking up at him again. "Draco," she started, the name tasting strange and unfamiliar on her tongue. _Think of it as meeting a new person...well, it sort of *is.*_ "Why have you--"
"Class, come to order, please!" Snape stalked into the classroom, black robes swirling around him as if he was a large bat. The room hushed. "As I informed you on Monday," he peered around the room, obviously displeased at the lowered amount of Slytherins, "we will be doing several long-term projects this year. We will begin the first of them today. You may have to come to this classroom at any hour of the night or day to adjust the temperature on your potion, or to add new ingredients, in which case you shall get a pass from me beforehand. If you *fail* to get a pass from me, then you will not be excused from the consequences of coming down here at a different hour.
"For this project you will be creating a befuddling brew. Contrary to its name, once a befuddling brew's effects are felt, it makes a person lose all inhibition for a short period of time. Mere skin contact with the befuddling brew can have an effect on a person, however, so I recommend that once the potion nears completion, you all wear gloves.
"Some of your ingredients will come from my office, and are to be handled delicately at all times. These ingredients are as follows..."
Hermione bent to her work, copying each ingredient studiously, even though she'd already sped through this year's curriculum before coming back to school. Realizing now that what she had been about to ask Draco ("Why have you been being so nice to me?") was unnecessarily harsh, she focused on keeping her mouth shut. But then Draco himself leaned over and asked her, "What were you going to ask?" as softly as he could. It still echoed around the dungeon. Hermione winced.
"Let's talk about this later," she said.
"Oh. All right."
"...So we can begin--*Miss* Granger, *Mister* Malfoy," Snape said, warning them, "--if you will just take out your cauldron and preliminary ingredients. The potion is on page 367 of your books." Snape turned in a flash of robes to sit down at his desk, as the rest of the room stood up and made its way to the supply cabinets.
*********
"Hullo, Penny," greeted Hermione brightly, shifting her large load of books.
"Good evening, Hermione," the woman in white shifted sympathetically in her portrait. "Do your teachers assign *that* much homework?" Her eyes fell on the leather-bound texts in Hermione's arms.
"Oh, no!" Hermione laughed. "This is just for fun."
"You're going to read those all *tonight*?"
"No," said Hermione, still chuckling. "Just this one." Holding up the copy of _Magellan's *real* circumnavigation of the globe,_ she then gestured at the rest of her burden. "These are for me to look up anything I don't understand."
Penny's eyes widened. "But how are you going to find the time to plan for the holidays?"
"Hmm?"
"You know...the festivities?"
"Oh! I completely forgot about those, with all the...schoolwork..." Hermione had been tempted to say 'all the confusion with Draco,' but decided against it.
"Well, I'm not big on All Hallows Eve," said the woman in white, grimacing a bit. "Christmas is my holiday."
"I really better talk to Mal--Draco about that...right now," mumbled Hermione, almost to herself, thinking aloud. "I guess I better go inside, Penny," she said a little more loudly.
With a sigh as if she'd wanted to carry the conversation on all day (which she probably did), Penny swung the portrait open. Entering her combination quickly, Hermione walked briskly inside and dumped her books down on the armchair, then turned to Malfoy, who was sitting on the couch, deep in his homework.
"We have to plan," said Hermione, crooking an eyebrow at him.
It started out with a great many uncomfortable pauses, as they wracked their brains for good ideas. But eventually Draco's homework was shoved to the side, Hermione's books dumped to the floor and forgotten, and an awkward conversation evolved into a rapid-fire brainstorming session, complete with notions of turning teachers into newts (an offer turned down by Hermione, although she did seem tempted when it came to Snape), having a masquerade ball (rejected by Draco because it seemed too corny), and punctuated by the occasional shriek of wild laughter. Hermione felt herself growing more and more accustomed to speaking with Draco, simply because, once they got into it, he acted like they had always been friends.
The conversation climaxed with an idea so positively evil, so wondrously nefarious that Draco wondered aloud why Hermione didn't wind up a Slytherin, causing Hermione to retort with an "I was certainly inspired by one." After wrapping up most of the details, the laughter died down to a few mild chuckles, and Hermione quite suddenly remembered what she'd wanted to ask her roommate.
"I've been meaning to ask you," she said, pulling the note from her pocket. "This fell out of your bag, and I read it before...um...the hospital wing--and I wanted to know...well, I mean...I don't understand the last one."
*********
A/N: I'm so wonderfully evil I could kiss myself full on the lips! Except that's physically impossible! So I won't!
I love cliffhangers, don't you?
A million points to your house if you can guess from which word I've derived Professor Pinebrow's name. Please specify your house, of course.
Anyway, this chapter took a really long time to write because I couldn't figure out a way to make the plot got the way I wanted to...never mind. I just hope you enjoyed it, is all.
Updates will become more frequent after this weekend.
For a long time, that night, after finishing her first letter to her parents, Hermione tried to redefine her relationship with Malfoy in her head. It was incredibly difficult. By the time she'd fallen asleep, she'd made no headway, so just before her eyes slipped closed she resolved to continue pondering the problem the next day. She was firmly committed to that...
At least, until she met the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
The professor hadn't shown up for their first day of class, leaving a group of bewildered Gryffindors sitting at their seats. Most of them finally fell into chatter; Hermione wound up reviewing her Defense Against the Dark Arts notes from the previous year, when they'd had a very nervous professor who she assumed had been scared off.
Their second class was now.
A very normal-looking man in grey robes strode up to the front of the classroom, leaning forward as he walked. He was *exceedingly* normal-looking: it was as if a survey had been put out for the whole of Britain, and a man had been constructed using all the averages. Facial features, hair length, height, everything. Hermione wouldn't have given him the time of day had she seen him on the street, except for the way he carried himself: a little intently, as if he was going to tip over any moment if he didn't push himself forward.
The professor hiccuped when he stopped walking, then clutched at his head. The group before him quieted. "Good morning," he said, a bit quietly, squinting at his students. Then, removing his hand from his temple and swaying a little, he said with a bit more power, "Good morning. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Pinebrow. There will be as little noise as possible in class today. Any questions? Good," he said, not pausing for questions. "Please take out your books."
Seamus Finnegan's hand rose as the rest of the students fumbled for their books as silently as possible, a few even whispering silencing charms at their bags. When the professor didn't seem to notice Seamus, sinking down into the chair behind his desk, Seamus coughed a little into his other hand. Professor Pinebrow winced, looking up to see what the disturbance was.
"Uh, sir," said Seamus, unsure of whether to be quiet or not when asking his question. "If I may ask--er--where were you the day before yesterday?"
Professor Pinebrow scanned the classroom. The rest of the students were nodding, wishing to hear the answer. The professor coughed. "Personal business," he said, then waved a dismissive hand at them. "Open your books and copy something down, will you? Twenty points to Gryffindor if you can get through the rest of the class without making another sound." With that, he slumped down over his desk, head on his arms.
Hermione looked to see how her classmates were responding to this. She was sitting at the desk next to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who had almost immediately begun passing notes back and forth. Drawing out a piece of parchment, Hermione scribbled ~What do you make of this?~ and, crumpling it into a ball, levitated it over to their table. Lavender noticed it by her elbow, looked almost angrily at Hermione, and then the two girls opened it together, reading the words within. For a few minutes they wrote briskly back and forth on their own parchment, then they nodded at one another in unison, and dropped Hermione's parchment on the floor.
Stunned, Hermione turned back to the rest of the class, to see if the exchange had been witnessed. Only Neville was looking at her, with a look approaching pity. Then, thoroughly disgusted, Hermione opened her book and started taking notes.
*********
"You look distracted." Hermione jumped at the observation. She had, in fact, been so distracted that she hadn't heard Malfoy slide into the seat next to her. For the past thirty seconds she'd been staring, unseeing, at her unopened Potions book.
"Have you had Professor Pinebrow yet?"
"Who?" Malfoy plopped down his books.
"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Oh, is that his name? We had him yesterday. He wouldn't wake up. I know," he smiled, "because my class tried *everything* they could to wake him."
"Like what?"
"Nursey rhymes at full volume, for starters," he said, and Hermione began to smile. "Have you ever heard *Zabini* saying 'Little Miss Muffet'?" Malfoy mock-shuddered. "*That* can suck all the joy out of a room."
A picture formed in Hermione's head, and she gave a snort of surprised laughter. "I could just picture that," she said, continuing to do so, which only made her laugh some more. It was almost as if Harry or Ron were sitting next to her, saying what they usually...she sobered. "Malfoy," she began, meaning to ask him something important.
"'Draco,'" he interjected before she could finish.
"What?"
"'Malfoy' 's what you'd call an enemy." He looked into her eyes intensely, and finally Hermione had to break away shyly.
_Oh, are we friends, then?_ she asked inwardly, jumping back into defining their relationship. "All right," said Hermione carefully, looking up at him again. "Draco," she started, the name tasting strange and unfamiliar on her tongue. _Think of it as meeting a new person...well, it sort of *is.*_ "Why have you--"
"Class, come to order, please!" Snape stalked into the classroom, black robes swirling around him as if he was a large bat. The room hushed. "As I informed you on Monday," he peered around the room, obviously displeased at the lowered amount of Slytherins, "we will be doing several long-term projects this year. We will begin the first of them today. You may have to come to this classroom at any hour of the night or day to adjust the temperature on your potion, or to add new ingredients, in which case you shall get a pass from me beforehand. If you *fail* to get a pass from me, then you will not be excused from the consequences of coming down here at a different hour.
"For this project you will be creating a befuddling brew. Contrary to its name, once a befuddling brew's effects are felt, it makes a person lose all inhibition for a short period of time. Mere skin contact with the befuddling brew can have an effect on a person, however, so I recommend that once the potion nears completion, you all wear gloves.
"Some of your ingredients will come from my office, and are to be handled delicately at all times. These ingredients are as follows..."
Hermione bent to her work, copying each ingredient studiously, even though she'd already sped through this year's curriculum before coming back to school. Realizing now that what she had been about to ask Draco ("Why have you been being so nice to me?") was unnecessarily harsh, she focused on keeping her mouth shut. But then Draco himself leaned over and asked her, "What were you going to ask?" as softly as he could. It still echoed around the dungeon. Hermione winced.
"Let's talk about this later," she said.
"Oh. All right."
"...So we can begin--*Miss* Granger, *Mister* Malfoy," Snape said, warning them, "--if you will just take out your cauldron and preliminary ingredients. The potion is on page 367 of your books." Snape turned in a flash of robes to sit down at his desk, as the rest of the room stood up and made its way to the supply cabinets.
*********
"Hullo, Penny," greeted Hermione brightly, shifting her large load of books.
"Good evening, Hermione," the woman in white shifted sympathetically in her portrait. "Do your teachers assign *that* much homework?" Her eyes fell on the leather-bound texts in Hermione's arms.
"Oh, no!" Hermione laughed. "This is just for fun."
"You're going to read those all *tonight*?"
"No," said Hermione, still chuckling. "Just this one." Holding up the copy of _Magellan's *real* circumnavigation of the globe,_ she then gestured at the rest of her burden. "These are for me to look up anything I don't understand."
Penny's eyes widened. "But how are you going to find the time to plan for the holidays?"
"Hmm?"
"You know...the festivities?"
"Oh! I completely forgot about those, with all the...schoolwork..." Hermione had been tempted to say 'all the confusion with Draco,' but decided against it.
"Well, I'm not big on All Hallows Eve," said the woman in white, grimacing a bit. "Christmas is my holiday."
"I really better talk to Mal--Draco about that...right now," mumbled Hermione, almost to herself, thinking aloud. "I guess I better go inside, Penny," she said a little more loudly.
With a sigh as if she'd wanted to carry the conversation on all day (which she probably did), Penny swung the portrait open. Entering her combination quickly, Hermione walked briskly inside and dumped her books down on the armchair, then turned to Malfoy, who was sitting on the couch, deep in his homework.
"We have to plan," said Hermione, crooking an eyebrow at him.
It started out with a great many uncomfortable pauses, as they wracked their brains for good ideas. But eventually Draco's homework was shoved to the side, Hermione's books dumped to the floor and forgotten, and an awkward conversation evolved into a rapid-fire brainstorming session, complete with notions of turning teachers into newts (an offer turned down by Hermione, although she did seem tempted when it came to Snape), having a masquerade ball (rejected by Draco because it seemed too corny), and punctuated by the occasional shriek of wild laughter. Hermione felt herself growing more and more accustomed to speaking with Draco, simply because, once they got into it, he acted like they had always been friends.
The conversation climaxed with an idea so positively evil, so wondrously nefarious that Draco wondered aloud why Hermione didn't wind up a Slytherin, causing Hermione to retort with an "I was certainly inspired by one." After wrapping up most of the details, the laughter died down to a few mild chuckles, and Hermione quite suddenly remembered what she'd wanted to ask her roommate.
"I've been meaning to ask you," she said, pulling the note from her pocket. "This fell out of your bag, and I read it before...um...the hospital wing--and I wanted to know...well, I mean...I don't understand the last one."
*********
A/N: I'm so wonderfully evil I could kiss myself full on the lips! Except that's physically impossible! So I won't!
I love cliffhangers, don't you?
A million points to your house if you can guess from which word I've derived Professor Pinebrow's name. Please specify your house, of course.
Anyway, this chapter took a really long time to write because I couldn't figure out a way to make the plot got the way I wanted to...never mind. I just hope you enjoyed it, is all.
Updates will become more frequent after this weekend.