Disclaimer: I don't own this!
Chapter One
The classroom was bustling with the sounds of anxious students concocting their first potion of the seventh year. Snape had grown seemingly stricter during the summer, and it appeared that he got even more satisfaction of flustering his poor students. "Now class, I expect you to somehow mess this up, so I have given each pair a special, ready made potion. If something goes wrong, which it will, I want you to add the potion to your cauldron. Any questions?" As usual, he ignored the hands that went up, and went on with his speech. "Good, get started. You have twenty minutes."
Harry and Hermonie were working busily together, as Ron had failed to show up. Snape had made it his business to deduct ten points from Gryffindor for his absence, and ten points from Harry and Hermoine respectively for not knowing where their comrade was.
"How dare he!" Poor Hermonie was extremely upset at the idea of starting the year off with the loss of thirty whole house points. "I'll kill him when he shows up!" Of course she wouldn't, but it made her feel better to threaten the absent Ron.
Sometime during the elongated summer, Hermonie had changed dramatically. Hair that was once frizzy and uncontrollable had been sculpted into beautiful ringlets of chocolate colored curls that hung gracefully down her back. Her teeth had become whiter, and thanks to the shrinking, they were normally sized. She had matured into a woman, and had the curves to prove it. No longer as skinny as a stick, she was attracting the attention of more boys than she thought there ever were at Hogwarts. She had so far managed to get asked to the Winter Ball by seven shy fifth years and ten seventh years. She had turned all of them down. There was only one person she wanted to go to any ball with, but she would never admit to anyone who it was. It was unthinkable, and it would never happen. While she finished off the potion that lay in the boiling cauldron, the door creaked open. The dull sound of Snape's voice alerted her to who it was.
"Ah, Weasley. How nice of you to join us." Snape was being extremely sarcastic, and a few of the brave Slytherins snickered.
"Weasel, how nice of you to join us." The notorious Draco Malfoy raised his voice high above everyone's. To his immediate satisfaction, all heads turned to look at the reddening Ron. Embarrassed, Ron rushed to take his seat next to Hermoine, and a little bit behind Harry.
One head in particular turned to face Ron as he entered the room. Set across thin red lips was a scowl. Turning pointedly away from him, Harry faced the front of the classroom, pretending to be extremely interested in what the cauldron was doing. Large, black rimmed glasses helped define and seemingly enlarge this Gryffindor's intelligent blue eyes. A messy mass of black hair sat atop his head, and slowly, against his will, the scowl disappeared. It was replaced by a look of pointed interest.
Turning back around to face Ron, he hissed. "Where were you? You could make us loose even more points. We're already behind, thanks entirely to you." His already prominent British accent got thicker, as it normally did when he was angry. Lately, it had seemed he had been getting angry quite often, more than normal. Ron was always messing up, Hermonie was too brainy, and Harry…well Harry had to many faults to mention. He had changed too much. During the lonely summer her had spent at the Dursley's home, his body had grown leaner; his cheekbones had become more defined. As everyone else had already noticed, he was becoming quite handsome.
Ron did nothing short of ignoring Harry, and he turned pointedly towards Hermonie and engaged in a fascinating conversation with her. Off to the side, where Harry was sure to see, Ron had begun to draw a hideous stick picture of Harry. It depicted him on a burning broomstick, falling to his death. Ron was in the middle of the field, and everyone was clapping for Ron. For once, he was in the center of attention.
After waiting a few minutes, Harry became inpatient. "Fine ignore me." He scowled again, and turned back around, but not before he had caught a glimpse of the drawing. "You bloody…" he trailed off, not wanting to be the cause of another fight. He would let it go; he would be calm and mature. So what if his supposed "best" friend drew pictures of him falling off a burning broomstick, it was fine. He would not allow Ron's immature acts to affect him. Besides, he had Hermonie to talk to after class. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lay his head on the desk. If he fell asleep, class would be over sooner.