Title: From Bad to Worse
Disclaimer: I own some socks. And other items of clothing. A phone. And lots of books. I could continue. But what's the point? You all know I don't own HP or anything related to it. Unfortunately.
A/N: Hmmm. Not quite sure where this story is going to go, but please read and review! (Might give me some ideas for future chappies!!)
Chapter 1: An Easy Mistake to Make?
Professor McGonagall severe face looms, "We're so very disappointed in you Miss Granger. Only six Outstanding's! SIX! We expected better of you..."
"OH NO! SIX - ! ARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!"
I sit bolt upright in bed. What time is it? I think wildly, scrambling out of bed and feverishly hunting for my dressing-gown ( hidden under a pile of books as heavy as me, probably) and knocking my alarm clock off the dresser in the process. Unsurprisingly, this clamour awakes Lavender, who sits up ve-ry slowly and groggily.
"Hermione? Are you mad?" She croaks at me. "Its SATURDAY for God's sake! And, besides-" she looks at her watch. "- its bloody seven o'clock!"
Ah.
I give a suitably apologetic response to this whilst grabbing my dressing- gown, and fuming inwardly, I leave the dormitory. Pavarti, oddly enough, is still fast asleep.
I stagger down the girls dormitory stairs to the Common Room, groaning to myself. How could I have thought it was exam day? It was that stupid dream, giving me ideas.
Aaaargh, just caught sight of myself in the mirror. Mad hair. Too tired and fed up to do anything about it.
The mirror has other ideas.
"Really dear, I've told you before! Merlinda Makesmooth's Forget Frizz – there's nothing better for-"
My Silencing Charms really are very good, though I say so myself.
I hobble over to one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fire and sink down into it resignedly. There's no way I'll be able to sleep again now, I'll have to just wait here until breakfast.
I glance over at a hairy reddish lump in the vast armchair next to me. Awww, just look at Crookshanks curled up there. A cuddle with him would definitely calm my frazzled nerves. I smile and cooing, reach over to stroke his fur.
And nearly faint.
"Arrrgghh! Hermione! What are you doing?!"
It's RON.
He flings back the thick blanket which concealed the rest of his body rather well. Oh dear. I remember Ron loves sleep almost even more than that ridiculous orange-clad Quidditch team of his.
He's not happy.
"Sorry! Its just - I thought that you – DON'T LAUGH – I thought you were Crookshanks..." I can feel my face reddening as I stutter on. Why on earth am I blushing and mumbling like some sort of idiot? Mind you, Ron's reaction certainly isn't relieving my embarrassment.
How could I have mistaken Ron for my cat ?!
Ron is laughing. Lots. I hate it when he does this. It's one of the few ways he can get to me, and boy does he know it.
I gather myself with as much dignity as I can muster, given the circumstances (and the fact that a Poofball has mysteriously replaced my hair during the night) and stalk away, intending to make a dramatic exit through the portrait-hole.
Only I never get as far as the portrait-hole. Before I've taken three steps, I trip over the REAL Crookshanks and fall flat on my face, Ron's hysterical laughter ringing in my ears.
This is going to be a truly disastrous day.
A/N: Now you can review ok? fnx
Disclaimer: I own some socks. And other items of clothing. A phone. And lots of books. I could continue. But what's the point? You all know I don't own HP or anything related to it. Unfortunately.
A/N: Hmmm. Not quite sure where this story is going to go, but please read and review! (Might give me some ideas for future chappies!!)
Chapter 1: An Easy Mistake to Make?
Professor McGonagall severe face looms, "We're so very disappointed in you Miss Granger. Only six Outstanding's! SIX! We expected better of you..."
"OH NO! SIX - ! ARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!"
I sit bolt upright in bed. What time is it? I think wildly, scrambling out of bed and feverishly hunting for my dressing-gown ( hidden under a pile of books as heavy as me, probably) and knocking my alarm clock off the dresser in the process. Unsurprisingly, this clamour awakes Lavender, who sits up ve-ry slowly and groggily.
"Hermione? Are you mad?" She croaks at me. "Its SATURDAY for God's sake! And, besides-" she looks at her watch. "- its bloody seven o'clock!"
Ah.
I give a suitably apologetic response to this whilst grabbing my dressing- gown, and fuming inwardly, I leave the dormitory. Pavarti, oddly enough, is still fast asleep.
I stagger down the girls dormitory stairs to the Common Room, groaning to myself. How could I have thought it was exam day? It was that stupid dream, giving me ideas.
Aaaargh, just caught sight of myself in the mirror. Mad hair. Too tired and fed up to do anything about it.
The mirror has other ideas.
"Really dear, I've told you before! Merlinda Makesmooth's Forget Frizz – there's nothing better for-"
My Silencing Charms really are very good, though I say so myself.
I hobble over to one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fire and sink down into it resignedly. There's no way I'll be able to sleep again now, I'll have to just wait here until breakfast.
I glance over at a hairy reddish lump in the vast armchair next to me. Awww, just look at Crookshanks curled up there. A cuddle with him would definitely calm my frazzled nerves. I smile and cooing, reach over to stroke his fur.
And nearly faint.
"Arrrgghh! Hermione! What are you doing?!"
It's RON.
He flings back the thick blanket which concealed the rest of his body rather well. Oh dear. I remember Ron loves sleep almost even more than that ridiculous orange-clad Quidditch team of his.
He's not happy.
"Sorry! Its just - I thought that you – DON'T LAUGH – I thought you were Crookshanks..." I can feel my face reddening as I stutter on. Why on earth am I blushing and mumbling like some sort of idiot? Mind you, Ron's reaction certainly isn't relieving my embarrassment.
How could I have mistaken Ron for my cat ?!
Ron is laughing. Lots. I hate it when he does this. It's one of the few ways he can get to me, and boy does he know it.
I gather myself with as much dignity as I can muster, given the circumstances (and the fact that a Poofball has mysteriously replaced my hair during the night) and stalk away, intending to make a dramatic exit through the portrait-hole.
Only I never get as far as the portrait-hole. Before I've taken three steps, I trip over the REAL Crookshanks and fall flat on my face, Ron's hysterical laughter ringing in my ears.
This is going to be a truly disastrous day.
A/N: Now you can review ok? fnx