Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, or the setting, for that matter. But the title and the story line are mine. Mine, all mine!! Gwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!! Okay, let's stop being odd and get to the story, shall we?

Nine

The first thing I heard was a knock on the door when I woke up the next morning. Frantic shouting came from outside.

"Hermione! Hermione, get out here now! We're going to be late for potions!" Ron's voice called from outside the door to our dormitory. I sat bolt upright, now fully awake, and looked to the clock I had magicked on to my bedside table. It read nine o'clock – the beginning of my first class.

"Oh, no!" I moaned. I ran to my wardrobe and pulled out my school clothes. My hair was sticking up every which way, but I needed to get to class. As I dressed, I realized that in all the excitement of my new room last night, I had forgotten to turn the alarm on.

"Um, I'll be right there, Ron! Just a second!" I called. I threw on my clothes and grabbed my robes. Sticking my arms through the arm holes and gripping my wand tightly, I flung open the door and saw Ron standing outside. He looked at me as though I had something stuck in my teeth. It was then that I realized that my hair was still messy, and I had on no make-up. I touched the tip of my wand to my head and my hair flattened out and pulled itself off of my face. I ran my hand quickly over my face, and from beneath it, make-up applied itself perfectly.

"So that's how girls get ready in the morning!" he cried, a look of complete awe on his face.

"No, Ron, that's just me. I don't think anyone else knows how to do that," I said quickly, barely stopping to take a breath. "C'mon!" I grabbed his arm and dragged him through the school to the dungeons. We ran like we were being chased by a forest fire or something. Well, actually, I ran – Ron kind of skipped along behind me, tripping over his feet as I pulled him along.

"Granger, Weasley, you're late," Snape snapped the second we sped through the door to the dark classroom.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I got lost on my way here from my dormitory," I lied.

"Well, what's your story, then, Weasley?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, so I responded for him.

"Please, sir, he found me on his way here and tried to help me back," I said.

"Miss Granger, will you please stop being such a know-it-all? I asked Mr. Weasley what his excuse was, not what your excuse for him was," Snape sneered.

"But sir, please –"

"Silence, Miss Granger, and five points from Gryffindor! You will remember from now on to keep your tongue behind your teeth! Just because you and Mr. Malfoy had a late night last night –"

"They had a what?" Ron screamed, spinning on his heel to look at me. Then he turned back to Professor Snape and said, "I don't think you're authorized to make such comments!"

The classroom was silent. Every eye was on Ron and I. Harry's green ones glittered with fear and loathing, while Malfoy's were silently smirking at us. Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff, was gnawing on her lower lip. Susan Bones looked like she was about to cry.

"Mister Weasley," Snape said in barely more than a whisper, every word dripping with malice, "I don't think you are authorized to be so fresh, cocky, and overconfident as you are. In the future, you will remember the time when I took twenty points from Gryffindor because you said such things, plus an additional ten from both of you for being late. If you add on Granger's five for speaking out, that will give you . . . a total of . . . forty-five points from Gryffindor."

My jaw dropped. If Ron hadn't been gripping my hand and holding me back, I would have slapped him. How could he say such things? A late night with Malfoy? Know-it-all? Forty-five points from Gryffindor? These were the times when I aspired to be the Headmaster someday here so I could fire him.

"Take your seats," he commanded harshly.

"Professor –" I began to protest, running up to him.

Ron was faster and got to me before I got to Snape. He grabbed both my hands and said, "Hermione, calm down, it's alright. This is Snape, after all. It's not like he hasn't done anything like this before."

"Since when are you Mister Logical?" I snapped, my eyes flashing dangerously. Ron pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and shook his head, not taking his eyes off me for a moment. My size 32-B chest heaving, I looked at Ron's hands on top of mine. He hadn't done that since we were in the Three Broomsticks in our third year. I looked back up at him, and he dropped them quickly.

I turned to face the rest of the class and began to walk slowly down the aisles of tables until I reached my seat. I passed Harry, whose mouth was slightly hanging open; Hannah, who threw me a look of sympathy; Susan, who tried to smile; and Malfoy . . . who pawed at my skirt again. I spun around and looked him straight in the eye.

"Keep your hands away from my skirt, you jerk," I hissed, my face two inches from his. His eyes were wide in horror. I figured that when I was angry, I could be pretty scary looking.

However, he eased back into his chair and said, "Alright, Head Girl, what are you going to do about it, report to the Headmaster?" Then he did the stupidest thing he could have done when I was in this state of rage. He flicked my skirt again.

My blood boiled. When I had come to the school, I expected everyone to be amazed by my changes, but I did not expect to be abused. As Malfoy sat there, laughing, flicking my skirt, as Ron watched from afar, almost as angered as I was, and as Snape stared at the scene and did nothing, I wound back my arm, then let it go, leaving a huge red mark on his face where I had slapped him.

The class gasped. Malfoy clutched his cheek. Ron was just staring at me like everyone else, his jaw dropped to the floor. Harry was suppressing a laugh. Snape stood where he had the entire class, his eyes wide with horror.

"Shut your mouth, Potter," he retorted coldly at Harry's laughing fit. "Granger, it's time for a visit with Professor Dumbledore."

I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak. Malfoy, who seemed to get over the slap way too quickly, was suddenly sneering at me.

"But . . . but . . ." I stuttered.

"Oh, stop trying, Granger, you sound like a train," Snape snapped. "Report to Professor Dumbledore's office immediately. And if you do not, trust me, there will be consequences much more severe than a few points from Gryffindor."

If I had not matured so much over the summer, I would have cried or something. If I had not grown and changed and realized what a harsh world we live in, I would have spoken up. But I knew better. So instead of protesting further, I just walked back to the front of the classroom. Malfoy reached out for my skirt, but I slapped his hand away.

"That is enough, Miss Granger!" Snape shouted. I just kept my gaze forward and kept walking. Ron was waiting for me at the end.

"Professor, she did nothing wrong! Malfoy is the one who should be punished! He was playing with her skirt!" Ron cried defiantly.

"Shut up, Weasley, before I add an additional fifty points to the forty-five you have already managed to lose!"

I gently touched Ron's shoulder as I passed him and leaned close to him, whispering, "He's right, Ron. For once, you probably should shut up."

"But, Hermione!" he shouted after me. But I just ignored him. I turned back, threw him and Harry one last look, and disappeared behind the door.