Disclaimer: I DISCLAIM EVERYTHING SO YOU CAN'T BLAME ME!!! HA!

A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews that I got! I must admit that I did get quite a few that said Americans aren't THAT bad. I laughed at these because I am American and I know how it's like. Maybe it's just because my school is different from all you other schools out there? I don't know, but a shout out to you all who feel what I'm trying to say! Rock On!!!

Chapter Three: Smokers and Dice

"Oh, shit," Ron muttered as he walked through the door of his next class Transfiguration. "I only did half my homework."

"You mean, copied only half of it from me," Hermione smirked, as she took her seat and pulled out her neatly done Essay assignment from her book bag. "You should have finished last period when Snape was busy drooling on his desk."

"Too busy beating Harry's ass at Spitball."

"Whatever. You still owe me from last week when I bought you lunch again," Harry muttered, taking his seat behind Hermione. "So technically, you still owe me."

"Whatever, man," Ron said, snapping his fingers nervously at his side.

"What are you so nervous about?" Hermione asked, sticking a piece of Trident into her mouth. "You never do your homework."

"What?" Ron asked, taking a seat next to Harry. "I'm nervous? Nah, it's just… been a while…"

"Oh." Hermione quirked an eyebrow, then turned back around. Harry snorted.

"I thought you just had a big sale this weekend," Harry smirked, giving Ron a side-glance look. Ron shook his head.

"All gone. Should be getting some more today though. I'm really trying to quit… really. I just need the money."

"Right. Right," Harry said, disbelieving. "Need the money for your car. Hate to break it to you, but your car is a piece of trash."

"Hey, once I buy the pieces to fix my motor, give it a gas tank, put a heating system in it, finish fixing the back seats, put the steering wheel back on, find a left door for it, and buy new break oil, it'll be the fastest thing on four wheels."

Harry laughed. "You mean three. You need another wheel remember."

Ron glowered, as he ran his hand over his shaved head. "You'll see. See if I let you ride in it when it's finished."

"I choose life, thanks."

Finally Ms. Minerva McGonagall walked through the door, and quickly made her way towards her desk in the front of the room. She looked like she normally did; nervous and slightly twitching as if she was going through withdrawal from something. Everybody knew McGonagall used to be a heavy time smoker. In the beginning years when Harry had first started school here, there had never been a day when McGonagall hadn't entered the room followed by a big cloud of smoke and the choking odor of nicotine. Dumbledore had suggested to her to try and quit just that year. McGonagall thought it insane to quit her precious, but she figured it wasn't helping setting a poor example to her students. So she bought the nicotine patches, and her right hand had begun to twitch ever since.

"Good Morning, class," Ms. McGonagall started, trying to smile at her students. "Did you all have a -" she coughed. "-good weekend?"

A couple of nods were seen, but more "no's" and "Yeah, right's" were heard above anything else.

"Good, good," McGonagall grinned, grabbing her right hand tightly, as she noticed it twitching by a drawer to her desk. "Well, I believe I assigned an essay over the weekend? Take that out and pass it to the front of the room. I trust you all did it." She gave a pointed stare at Ron, who stared blankly back.

When McGonagall released him from her stare, Ron turned to his right and hissed to Draco who sat in the next isle, "Give me your homework."

Poor Draco, used to Ron bullying him from important homework assignments Ron was too lazy to do, clutched onto his neatly completed, proudly done essay with shaking hands. "But - but, Ron. You d-didn't do it?"

Ron snorted. "I thought you were doing it for me. That was the deal, wasn't it?"

Draco knew of no such deal, other then the daily routine of Ron just taking Draco's worksheets off his desk and handing it in with his, Ron's, name on it.

"B-but if I d-don't hand this in, then I w-won't get a B. My m-mom says if I d-don't get a B then I can't g-go to b-band c-camp this year and if I don't go to b-band c-camp, then m-my f-f-father…"

"You can't even play that French horn!" Ron exclaimed, scooting his chair more closely to the quivering Draco. "Come on, Pal. I'm asking nicely this time. I know you worked hard on this assignment, and I'm sure it would amount up to that B you needed. You see, I need at least a B, or else my mother won't buy me food for the week. You know about our money issues, and well… my mother's pregnant again. She doesn't believe in wasting her precious dollar on sons who refuse to work. Please, Draco. How would you feel to know you were the reason I starved to death?"

Draco blinked, looking at his typed, double spaced, 12 font in black ink essay. He bit his lip, letting his eyes move back and forth to the lying druggy and his proudly done assignment.

"Or I'll just take it… and not so gently as last time…" Ron smiled sweetly.

Defeated, Draco handed over his work looking like he was trying to hold back tears. Ron snatched the paper with a chuckle, scribbled out Draco's name and put his own, then passed it up. "Thanks, Draco," Ron grinned, slapping Draco on the back. "I knew you would pull through."

Draco put his head down on his desk, and hid himself with his arms. Ron shrugged and happily snapped his fingers into his palm. "Phew. Hard work pulls off."

Harry shook his head. "I guess so," he said.

"Looks like a fair amount of you did your assignment this time," McGonagall said, picking up the stack of essays with shaking hands. "Hermione Granger looks like she did two pages over the required, I applaud you. Harry Potter, nicely indented paragraph you handed in." McGonagall gave Harry a stern look. Harry shrugged. "Nicely done, Ms. Bones. Oh, and Ron Weasley. You actually attempted the assignment," McGonagall blinked, staring at the crossed out name at the top. "You spelled your name wrong or something?"

Ron smirked. "You know how it is!" He grinned. McGonagall shook her head. Apparently, her hands were doing a quite bit of shaking as well, for the stack of papers she was holding dropped to the floor, spreading out everywhere. "Oh, sh- darn." McGonagall seethed, as she bent down to pick up her mess. "This happens every week since Albus put me on the patch! I swear this will be the death of me." Then standing up she said louder, "Take out your books and turn to the next chapter. We have to get through the changing of plants to lawn chairs before midterms." She bent back down to finish picking up the papers.

"Oh, crap," Hermione gasped, checking her watch. "My guidance appointment is in two minutes." Her hand shot into the air. "Ms. McGonagall, may I go see Mr. Black? I have an appointment."

"Sure," McGonagall called from the floor. "Bring me your pass book."

"Why does he want to see you about college anyway?" Ron muttered, pulling dice out of his pocket.

Hermione shrugged. "Not sure. God forbid if I actually wanted to further my education in life!"

"Yeah. Who would?" Ron muttered, making sure McGonagall was still busy picking up papers before shaking the dice and rolling them onto his table. "Your turn." He whispered to Harry.

Harry shook his head and put his hands on his empty pockets. "You all ready cleaned me out of lunch money! I don't have any money left to bet on dice!"

Hermione sucked her teeth. "Well, at least you are intent on math," she muttered, then went to the front to McGonagall, who was on her hands and knees trying to gather the Essays she had recently dropped again, got her pass book signed, and left the room to the Guidance Office.