Classes were normal – except for the fact at the beginning, their Professors would launch into a speech about Voldemort and Hermione was getting sick of that. Nevertheless, she felt that her life was going back to normal. She would still smile and talk to everyone and she was able to concentrate on something other than Viktor Krum. But life had become a charade for her, in a way. Only God knew how intense the pain was in her heart.
One morning, she was doing her Arithmancy homework in the library when Ginny came in.
"Hi," said the young redhead shyly. "Is it all right if I sit down?"
"Sure," Hermione smiled and put away her books.
"Um…I could leave if I'm disturbing you."
"Oh, no; not at all. I need a break myself."
Ginny returned Hermione's smile and sat beside her. They were silent for a minute. Then Hermione asked, "Where's Harry?"
"Oh, he's off to study Divination with Ron," replied Ginny. "I take it that you don't have Divination?"
"I had it but then I dropped it. I didn't want to waste my time trying to tell fortunes from tea leaves and crystal balls."
The two girls giggled; Ginny said, "Yeah, I know. Professor Trelawney is a bit weird. But you have to give her credit for that one authentic prediction she made – the one about Voldemort's return."
"Only one," protested Hermione. She eyed Ginny's Prefect badge. "You must be really proud."
"Oh, of this?" Ginny looked at her badge. "Sure, why not?"
Hermione smiled wanly. Once upon a time, she would have done just about anything to become the prefect. How come she'd changed so much in two months?
She changed the subject. "It's Thursday today, isn't it?"
"Yeah," said Ginny. She frowned when she saw Hermione sigh. "Why, what's the matter?"
"Nothing. It's just that…" Hermione sighed again. "I have a Potions class this afternoon with the Slytherins."
"I know what that can be like," Ginny grumbled. "I wonder how they would react if they knew that Harry is Salazar Slytherin's descendant."
* * *
Harry, Ron and Hermione went down to the dungeons after lunch. Many a time she wondered how the Slytherins managed to spend all their time there. And why would a school need dungeons?
"Honest to God, Harry, sometimes I wonder why Professor Trelawney's managed to keep her job at Hogwarts," complained Ron. "She's such a…fraud!"
"I know," said Harry. "Remember the time when she thought that I was born in mid-winter?"
Hermione smiled triumphantly. "I'm glad I dropped Divinations," she said.
"Oh, shut up, Hermione," said Ron. "The last thing we need is you gloating at our misery."
They arrived at the classroom but decided not to enter since their class wouldn't start for another ten minutes. However, many Slytherins had already taken their seats inside.
"Hey, look," Ron pointed at a large piece of parchment on the wall. "It's the timetable for the Magical Fine Arts classes."
Harry and Hermione eyed the timetable and then he said, "Magical Fine Arts sounds interesting. I wouldn't mind learning how to make portraits move."
"Thinking of joining, Potter?" sneered a voice from behind. It was Draco Malfoy and he was alone.
"I must tell you, you'd feel pretty much out of place," he continued. "After all, the class is completely composed of Slytherins. And your presence would be most unwelcome, scarface."
Why am I not surprised that he hasn't really changed? thought Hermione. She looked fearfully at Harry, wondering is he might return Draco's insult. Instead, Harry smiled a bit and spoke calmly. "Tut tut tut," he said, eye to eye with the blond boy. "I'd expect some more respect from you, Malfoy. I don't see why I should annoy them – I am, after all, the heir of Slytherin."
Draco turned white. Unable to say anything, he just thrust past them and entered the classroom to join Crabbe and Goyle, not to mention Pansy Parkinson.
Ron glowed. "Way to go, Harry," he said, impressed.
"Changed or not," said Harry, determined. "I'm not gonna take any crap from Malfoy this year."
Hermione, however, frowned. "I don't think you should've said that Harry," she told him. "I mean, what if Malfoy spreads the news all over the school or something?"
They were so caught up in their conversation that they didn't notice it was time for class until a soft, malevolent voice said behind them, "Now what are you three doing outside when the class is about to start?"
The three Gryffindors looked up to find Snape sneering at them, his black eyes glittering maliciously.
"Get inside," he snapped before they could say anything. "And fifteen points from Gryffindor."
They entered the classroom and took their seats, sulking. Snape took his place in front of everyone behind his desk. After the roll-calling, he got directly to the point, instead of launching into some boring, overrated lecture about Voldemort's defeat.
"Today, we are going to whip up a Dreamless Sleeping Potion," he announced, briefly resting his eyes on Hermione's, making her uncomfortable. She noticed that his fingers were moving restlessly.
Snape moved to write down the ingredients on the blackboard and she took her usual place beside Neville. After giving out instructions, Snape said, "And for once in your life, Longbottom, I would like to see you brew a decent potion on your own, without Miss Granger hissing instructions in your ear."
Neville and Hermione flushed. Everyone knew that Neville's worst subject was Potions and his fear of Snape made things even worse. Snape, on the other hand, did nothing much to help – he seemed to happy with bullying the young boy.
As everyone set to work, Snape began to pace the classroom and he paused from time to time, to sneer at the Gryffindors' work. He made a waspish remark as Dean Thomas' potion was too thick. But Hermione was too busy helping Neville to notice anything.
"First you have to put in the frog intestines," she whispered to him. "Let them boil for a couple of minutes. Then put in the orange peel…"
"Is there anything you would like to share with the rest of the class, Miss Granger?" said a soft, sharp voice from behind. She and Neville froze.
"No, sir, I…" she began but he interrupted.
"I'm warning you, Miss Granger," said Snape in a soft, dangerous voice. "I want Longbottom to brew this potion by himself."
"Sorry, sir," Hermione blushed furiously. Neville began to tremble.
Snape paused before he added, "If I catch you hissing instructions in his ear again, you will be very sorry indeed."
As he walked away, she noticed that his long fingers were twitching. And his sudden sternness surprised her. Evidently, his dislike towards her had increased during the holidays and he had reached new levels of vindictiveness.
The rest of the class went on in silence. Hermione was unable to help Neville, partly because Snape had scolded her and partly because he was keeping an eye on her. And all the while, his fingers twitched.
At the end of the class, Snape told them to test their potions tonight and write a three-foot report on Sleeping Potions for next week. "Class dismissed."
Hermione joined Ron and Harry outside. She would have a talk with Neville later.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked curiously, referring to the incident with Snape.
"I have no idea," she answered. "Snape's never been like this before. He's never objected to my helping Neville – except for once during our third year." She took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. "And all the while…every time he looks at me, his fingers twitch! Almost as if he wants to strangle me!"
Right at that moment, Snape had come out, in time to hear Hermione's angry words, unnoticed by them and he looked at her longingly.
Ah, Miss Granger, if you only knew.