Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Nadda. Nothing.

A/N: Sorry for getting this chapter up so late. So busy Stalking the Master I had so little time!

Thanks to all of my reviewers. I had the question, "Who the heck is Mya?" asked a lot. Mya is Hermione's nickname. Yeah.

Chapter Two: Spitballs and Camoflage

"Open, you damn, nasty piece of idiotic trash!" Hermione yelled, furiously kicking at her jammed locker. "Or I'll melt your cheap ass and mold it into a gift for my mother!"

"Dude, you used that threat last week," Ron said, quickly getting his own locker open, only to have a mound of trash to fall at his feet. "Damn," he muttered. "I was wondering where that mofo went -" he bent down and retrieved a crumpled piece of mostly blank paper with only half a heading -

Ron Weasely Transfiguration Term Paper

"Due three weeks ago…" he ran a hand over his shaven head.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Make your dumb ass usefull and get my locker open."

Ron shook his head. "I thought you were a witch."

"I thought you were on rehab!"

"Both were lies then," Ron muttered.

He moved Hermione out of the way and shoved his knee to the metal door. Then with his left hand entered in Hermione's combination. After the last diget, he brought his knee down, kicked, then swifty pulled the latch up and opened.

"No sweat," he said.

"Fine, whatever," Hermione said lightly. She took her books she needed for the morning and shoved them into her blue Jansport bag.

"We best get our asses to Mr. Snape's room or else -"

Ron snorted. "Or else what? What is Snape's drunken, pale ass going to do? He won't give us detention… it'll keep him longer from his six-packs…"

Hermione sucked her teeth. "Last time he threatened to nail you to his drive-way -"

"And run me over with a flock of pink elephants," Ron finished. "Yeah, I remember that one. Shame Snape don't."

Hermione chuckled. "Still. Patty borrowed my YM magazine over the weekend. The one with sexy Elijah Wood on the cover. I want it back."

Ron groaned. 'Tell me when they get J-Lo up on that cover, then we'll talk."

They hurried to their first block class, and as they suspected, Snape was sitting behind his messy desk, and he was rubbing his blood-shot eyes… he didn't even see his students sneak in and grab their seats in the back of the room with Harry.

Mr. Severus Snape looked to be his usual Monday mess. Heavy bags hung under his red eyes and his elbow length black hair he left uncombed and unwashed. His black clothing were completely wrinkled, and Ron noticed it was backwards. A smell of warm alcohol lingered in the air, as if a stash of Budwiser were stored opened under Snape's desk. After Snape finished rubbing his eyes, he ran a hand over his unshaven face stubble and staggered to his feet.

Leaning his hands heavily on the desk, he tried to steady his eyes over the class. "Afternoon," he grunted. The class snorted. "So- ah - homework. Did -ah- you have any homework?"

The whole class stopped in the middle of pulling out their half-finished 100 word essay on the Beauty of Frogs out of their bags, and sat straight.

"No, sir," they said.

"Good," he grunted again. "So -ah- get out your books and geter page -uh- shit. Granger, what chapter are we on?"

Hermione smirked, then carefully hid her text book under the chair. "We don't have books in this class, Mr. Snape."

"What?" Snape blinked. "Oh, right." The class chuckled, and Harry gave Hermione a high-five and whispered, "Rock on!"

"Then - get out your cauldrons and - and read pages 243 through 612. Tell me when you're finished." he lowered himself sorely into his swivel chair, just when the door burst opened.

Draco Malfoy entered timidly into the room, rolling his book-bag behind him. Ron, Harry, and rest of the guys prepared their spit ball launchers and started shreading paper.

"S-s-sorry, M-mister Snape," he said in his usual stutter. "M-my mo-m-mother in-in-ins-insisted on ironing m-my briefs."

He was then nailed in the face by three large spit balls.

Snape belched. "Your mom irons your underwear?"

Draco slowly nodded. Snape shook his head. "All right. Could have happened to anyone. Next time you'll serve a detention. Now take your seat."

Draco smiled nervously, pushed his thick, taped glasses back up his nose, and took his seat in the front row.

He was hit with twenty more spit balls. Draco ignored it, and took off his worn-out camoflage jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.

Sixteen more spit balls.

"You guys are so cruel to that dweeb," Hermione chuckled, flipping through her newly returned YM magazine.

"I don't define it as cruel," Harry said, placing a new spit ball in his empty pen. "More like service for the week."

Hermione blinked. "You're theories are wacked."

Ron shrugged. "I call it service."

Snape gave another loud belch from the front of the room, then went back to rubbing his eyes.

Ron sniffed.

"I forgot," Hermione mumbled. "I have a guidance meeting today."

"I have a peer mediation meeting today at noon," Dean Thomas said, turning around and stadling his chair.

"For slamming Goyle's head into the water fountain?" Harry chuckled, then adjusted his tongue ring.

Dean smirked and nodded. "They think we could someday be 'well aquainted friends or some shit like that."

"They are actually allowing you two to enter the same room together?" Hermione said. "Stupid ass school board."

"Word."

"Why do you have a GC meeting today, Mya?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "Something to do with preparing myself for college or whatever. Mr. Black didn't really say," she frowned. "He was in too big of a hurry. I don't think he likes it anywhere outside his office though."

Ron snorted. "That man's a paranoid pus! What the hell…"

"Give him a break," Hermione said. "He just got out of prison a couple years ago… what do you expect?"

"And he's my god-father," Harry snapped. "So lay off."

"If he wasn't so crazy, he would have won that court order for you to live with im."

"I said back off!" Harry growled loudly.

"No - no whispering!" Snape said, pointing somewhere to the left. "Lower your lips!"

"Gee, sorry, man," Ron said, holding out his scared arms.

Harry shook his head. "Whatever."

"Dude, let's play a game," Ron suggested, changing the subject. "If you hit the back of Draco's head it's twenty points - on his back and it sticks, then that's ten - a hundred points if you get it into his jacket pocket."

Harry grinned. "You're on!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two are lame."

Ron sucked his teeth. "And you're dead ass boring!"

"No, I mean if you are going to play such a childish game, the least you could do is raise the stakes a little."

"Word!" Ron shouted, pulling out the wad of cash in his pocket and putting five dollars of it on the table. "Had a big sale this weekend."

Harry smirked, then pulled out his lunch-money.

The rest of the class period Ron and Harry played "Hit the Nerd with Flying Spitballs." Mr. Snape noticed none of this, for he had fallen asleep with his head flat on his desk with his mouth wide open.

First period went by normally for a Monday. The next period was transfiguration - Ron forgot all about his un-finished copied homework, as he nailed a rather large, wet spit ball in the back of Draco Malfoy's head.