OK, I'm done with the introductions. You know what you're reading… hopefully. Let's just get down to it—

Like Another Teen Movie—Chapter Two

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"Hermione! How absolutely corking to see you!" Draco said as he approached the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall the following morning. The Gryffindors stopped the regular morning gossip and turned to stare at the blonde-haired boy. He winked at Harry and Ron and sat down in the usually empty seat next to Hermione.

"Hmm," was Hermione's reply. She was reading—as usual—however, it seemed she had finished the one Ron couldn't read and was now reading something that was perhaps written in 18th century English. In short, the title phrase wasn't in Draco's vocabulary.

"Hmm… yes, how very observant," said Draco, slowly. It seemed he was taking one word at a time. However, Hermione simply let her mouth form a sort of half-smile and she continued reading. Draco looked to Harry and Ron for support but they were looking everywhere but him. Ron was focusing entirely on his egg whites and Harry was trying to polish his glasses. Harry never polished his glasses—that's why he often ran into walls.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "Hermione!" he said suddenly.

Her eyes slowly met his and she gave him a polite smile. "Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco chuckled. "Please… call me Draco."

Hermione suddenly let out a small tinkle of laughter. "Please… grow a brain." And with that Hermione gathered her things and marched out of the Great Hall.

"And how would I go about doing that?" Draco called after her. He sighed and turned back around to face his fellow Gryffindors. Ron and Harry were staring at him open-mouthed. Lavender Brown was looking quite hurt, in a sort of you-choose-the-outcast-before-me look. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were letting out random snorts in between loud shouts of laughter. Neville Longbottom had begun asking the Creevey brothers if he was dreaming or not.

Draco stared defiantly back at them. "What?" he said.

Lavender stood up. "Oh, come off it, Malfoy! At least I own a hair straightener!" She stalked away, Parvati Patil following closely behind giving her the-boys-are-scum pep talk.

Dean and Seamus ignored the inquiry and began imitating the entire act they had just witnessed.

Ron looked at Draco for a very long time. Finally, he said, "Now, I'm going to ask you this once and you better give me a straight answer—were you or were you not dropped on your head as a child?"

"And that concludes our lesson today," Professor McGonagall announced, tapping her wand on the pin cushion turned hedgehog and muttering the counter-spell. "I expect your Animagi essay on my desk by Monday!" she added over the hustle and bustle to get out the door.

Hermione Granger was the last, as she stopped by to ask Professor McGonagall a few questions about today's lesson. She then pulled out a roll of parchment from her shoulder bag. "I, uh, I've finished your essay."

Professor McGonagall took it from Hermione's outstretched hand and placed it carefully on her desk. "It was assigned yesterday, Miss Granger."

"I – I know," said Hermione, turning scarlet. "It's not like I had anything else to do," she added, sheepishly.

"Ah, yes," said Professor McGonagall. "Miss Granger, please take a seat (Hermione did so). Now, I understand your sixth year you are under much stress, however… however, I have noticed your lack of… socialising."

Hermione's eyes widened. She'd noticed? "Old McGonagall" as she was known, had noticed her lack of "socialising"? Well, that's more than a tad embarrassing.

"Er… is that a problem?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh, no," said Professor McGonagall quickly. "It's wonderful that you focus solely on your studies… but I do remember your first year… you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were as thick as thieves. And then they befriended Mr. Malfoy…"

"Oh, you know," Hermione shrugged. "Boys will be boys."

"That saying is horrible, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "It's quite harsh in a way."

Hermione looked at her feet. "It's the truth," she said quietly.

"Ah… yes, well… you best run along for lunch," Professor McGonagall said, letting her glasses fall to the end of her nose. "Have fun."

Hermione nodded and quickly left the Transfiguration room. How was she was supposed to have fun when she was labelled as a "loser" or an "outcast", among other things. It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd had friends. However, that was not the case. Her friends had deserted her during their second year for a nasty blonde-haired twelve-year-old and that was how it had stayed for three long years. But she wasn't bitter. Oh no.

"Hermione!"

Their last lesson (Potions) had just ended and Hermione was hoping to get the library early to research her essay for Professor Snape, the Potions master. It was about something or other mixed with something else… or other. It didn't faze her too much—she would understand it better when she had read about it in a good old fashioned book. But for now she would yell at the annoyance calling her name.

"Hermione!" the voice repeated. She turned and was face to face with Ron Weasley, who was grinning like an idiot.

She glared at him. "Go away."

"Why?" he asked, looking dejected.

"Because I hate you," Hermione replied. "And I have homework to do."

A wave of realisation seemed to wash over Ron's face. "Ah… nothing ever really stands in the way of you and books, does it?"

Hermione ignored him and began to walk out of the dungeons. Ron called her name once more.

"What?" she asked annoyed.

"I want to talk," he said.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Talk? Talk about what?" The last time Ron had "wanted to talk" he had sat her down and told her in his most serious voice that he had feelings for her. Hermione hadn't yet absorbed the information, when Ron began choking with laughter and screaming that she'd been played. He then went off to high-five a howling Harry and Draco.

Ron stared at Neville Longbottom, who was still packing up his supplies, and waited until he had disappeared through the dungeon door. Ron and Hermione were now the only two in the dungeons. "Uh… I just wanted to say… that I was…" He trailed off and focused on a moss covered growth on the dungeons walls.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, impatiently.

"I was… I'm sorry, Hermione," he finished. "I'm sorry for leaving you, I'm sorry for lying to you, I'm sorry for making fun of hair… I'm just… I'm truly, truly sorry."

Hermione laughed. Ron frowned at her. "I'm serious, Hermione!"

"You're serious? So were you just being serious when you made me look like an idiot countless times in front of all my peers?" she questioned, with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Hermione…"

"Don't!" Hermione snapped. "You had your chance. Both you and Harry and then you had to make friends with that stupid little git… no, it doesn't matter. You're not worth it. You never were."

She pushed open the dungeon door and hoisted her heavy shoulder bag over her shoulder.

"You can't stay mad at me for ever, Hermione!" Ron called after her.

"No. But I bloody well try," said Hermione, slamming the door behind her.

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Jordan