THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER

By: Scatterheart

A long time ago in a campus far, far away…

Section Four

            Later that day in the Common Room, over mugs of steaming hot chocolate, Ron quipped to Harry, "Today Hermione flipped out in Potions."

            "I did not flip out," Hermione said, nestling into the sofa and opening her Muggle Studies novel to the place held by a satin bookmark.

            "Fine then. She had a laugh attack. While class was in session."

            "Ron!"

            Harry smiled cheesily as he plopped down in the sofa next to Hermione and said, "The one day I excuse myself from class to coach the new Quidditch goalie and all hell breaks loose." He took a slurping sip of his hot chocolate. "Is this true, 'Mione?"

            Hermione covered her head with the paperback novel, smelling the dusty sweet scent of the pages. "No," she sighed muffedly, and gave a small sneeze. "I was only laughing at something Draco said."

            "That gasbag made you laugh? We never make you laugh! How come you let your – your – laughing virginity be broken by a Slytherin?"

            "Excuse me?" For some reason real anger flared up within her, and she chucked the novel at Harry. Hard. The boy missed it by a mere millimeter as his lightening reflexes brought his body into a tight crouch. The novel sailed into the air and crash landed on the Persian rug.

            "Hey, I was only joking, you know!" Harry sputtered, straightening.

            Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not very funny. In fact, it's not funny at all."

            "Especially after the greasy old git gave us two extra chapters of work for her little exhibition," finished Ron. "We now have to read from sixteen to nineteen by tomorrow. Have fun, Harry."

            "Are you kidding me?"

            "No, and I don't even understand half of chapter eighteen. He didn't go over it in class. If only 'Mione hadn't—"

            "I'm going to bed," Hermione announced loudly, picking herself up from the sofa and setting her mug of hot chocolate roughly on the coffee table. The liquid inside sloshed and spilled out in a little dark brown ring on the mahogany surface.

            When she had reached the base of the dorm stairway, Ron called out to her: "What about chapter eighteen?"

            Hermione wheeled around. "What about it?"

            "Well we don't understand it and we need some help."

            It's not my fault, she thought, and felt another surge of indignant anger rise. Even she could not explain what had happened in Potions earlier that day, and she did not need Ron's childish taunting and blaming to guide her through her churning thoughts. "Read it again," she said.

            "That's not going to help very much. I need Snape's lesson plan."

            The first mention of Snape's name all evening made Hermione's heart jump into her throat and lodge there. She swallowed thickly, and somehow the words popped out of her mouth like a floodgate she could not control: "Then quit your complaining. I'll go get it from him right now."

            The two pairs of ogling eyes gaping at her confirmed it: the Head Girl had gone insane. "You're saying you're going to go to Snape's chambers right now, knock on his door, ask for the lesson plan, and give them to us?" Ron demanded in disbelief.

            Hermione winced to herself. Her heart was now palpitating at quadruple speed against her ribcage. "Yeah," she feigned in an easy tone, shrugging. "I started this mess and now I'm going to end it."

            "You can stop faking now," Harry said.

            "I'm not faking!"

            "But what if he's asleep?"

            "At ten in the evening?" Hermione sputtered. "Then I guess I'll have to wake him up." And before the boys could see the fierce blush that had exploded onto her cheeks, she had hurried to the Common Room door and exited.

            The door slammed behind Hermione like a gunshot.

            A few quiet moments passed, and Ron gave an incredulous expression to Harry. "Let me tell you, man, she's lost it."

            "She didn't lose it. I know why she's going down there," Harry said confidentially, holding his mug to his lips.

            "Why?"

            "Because she needs the lesson plans for herself, of course." He took a gulp and chuckled.

            Ron nodded slowly. "Oh yeah. I never saw it as that way before."

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