A/N: Enough with the exposition, already. :-) This chapter will move into the actual action of the piece. If you like to laugh, I recommend it. Thanks SO MUCH for the reviews – you give me the courage to continue. Oh, and if you don't know who Ron's new love is, it'll become plain in the next chapter. I've also had it pointed out that Hermione may have been referred to as the youngest of the trio, in which case she turned 17 instead of 18. Still, she's an adult now by wizarding standards, even if she is a rather young one. Anyway, this is the where the story, proper, begins.

Touch the Air Softly

by Jessa L'Rynn

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. J.K. Rowling created them and writes them with a genius that has never been equaled. Warner Bros. owns the right to do dumb things with them and doubtlessly will once Jo's finished with them, unless she kills them all. I try to fight the urge to put words into other people's visions. But every once in awhile, something yummy like this comes along and I find myself committing what I have been told is both crime and honor. With all due respect to Jo Rowling and her marvelous world, here is my attempt to "steal from the best".

Chapter 3: Gravel for Bread

Hermione stared at the notice McGonagall was circulating in their transfiguration class with horror. Harry looked up at her from the next desk, his face the very picture of shock. Ron, whom she handed the paper to next, turned red at the ears and hastily flung the thing onto Lavender's desk, and tried to hide behind his books. Hermione heard giggling coming from the next people to get the paper, followed by Neville Longbottom dropping all his books on the floor.

"I guess Lord Voldemort wasn't enough trouble for me to worry about," Harry whispered. Hermione smiled, but stopped suddenly when McGonagall raised her head from her notes.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" their head of house snapped. "There is no need to get so worked up about it. This class will be just like any other during your wizarding education - except that you might need this one even more." The boys exchanged grins at each other over Hermione's head. She snorted.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger," said McGonagall. "I suppose, as usual, you have already read all the material?"

"No, Professor," Hermione said, softly.

"Then do not presume that you do not need the class." She turned the weight of her glare into the rest of the class and Hermione turned hers onto Ron and Harry in turn. "It will be on Thursday evenings at 7 o'clock in the larger History of Magic classroom, as it will be a lecture class. You will need to each acquire a copy of 'The Most Ancient Magic by Hortense Freemore' from the bookstore on your next Hogsmeade visit, which is the weekend before the class begins." She looked around the room. "Yes, Mr. Finnigan?" she asked resignedly.

"Um," he began, flustered, "um, is it just going to be us in the class, Professor? I mean, not the S... other houses?"

She frowned. "You will be studying with Ravenclaw," she said. "The earlier class will be attended by Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

"Poor Hufflepuff," Ron whispered.

She caught him. "Yes, Mr. Weasley? What was your question?"

Ron turned completely red, this time, absolutely caught off guard. "You're teaching the class, right?" he said, for the sake of something to say.

"It is irrelevant to my subject," she said. "And, unfortunately, neither Madam Pomfrey nor Professor Flitwick are available for the whole time, so could not take the class."

Hermione stared at her in horror. She had told McGonagall the truth - the subject might have been one she was vaguely interested in on an intellectual level, but she hadn't had the nerve to pursue it. Nevertheless, she knew what McGonagall was telling them. There was only one other topic in the school that approached this subject, and therefore only one other professor.

"I'm sure you will find Professor Snape to be both informative and instructive."

Harry groaned. McGonagall smiled at him sympathetically. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," she said, quietly.

Harry glared at her.

Ron handed Hermione a note in a few minutes, when McGonagall had finally turned on to other matters and gone to hand back homework. She opened it up, snorted, and passed it on to Harry, who had the most horrible time trying not to laugh. It said, "Not like old Snape would have any idea what sex education is about, anyway. And now he's got an excuse to take more points. This is going to bugger all."

"Lastly, Severus," said Dumbledore, "I'm afraid you're getting the short straw with the seventh years, this year."

Severus Snape glared at the ancient Head Master, convinced that he finally had proof that the old man was insane. "Can't I just try a pink tu-tu on the Minister of Magic?" he suggested grimly. "It's safer."

The other teachers snickered appreciatively.

"I afraid not," said Dumbledore. "It simply isn't his color."

"Purple, then," Snape muttered under their open laughter. "Very well, I accept as I have no choice. Is there any further treasure you wish to bestow on me?"

"Not at the moment," he said. "Unless you'd like a sherbert lemon?"

"Absolutely not," Snape said with what, for him, was a disgusted face. It was hard to tell - he usually managed an absolute revulsion to most things. McGonagall sighed and kept her seat as the others left in the wake of Snape's stalking departure.

"The Gryffindors aren't happy about it, of course," she said after the room was clear.

"I'm sure," agreed the Head Master. "But it will do him some good to have something to think about besides the next summons."

"You do realize that you're out of your mind, don't you Albus?" she said, gently.

"If I did," he said, cheerfully, "then I couldn't be."

She left the tower room quietly, leaving a concerned sigh floating up the staircase behind her.

Harry told Ron to meet him on the Quidditch pitch after dinner, then went looking for Hermione. He found her exactly where he expected to, sitting dejectedly in the library, staring into a book about something that was probably well over his head. He hoped it was just her NEWT level Ancient Runes homework, but was suspicious enough of her present depressed behavior to believe it was most likely to be something much more complicated. "Why weren't you at dinner?" he asked.

"I didn't feel like eating," she said, glumly.

"Yeah, me either," he agreed. "But I've got these two friends who always pester me about it."

"Maybe I could talk to those friends of yours," she offered.

"They'd probably just pester you, too," he said. "C'mon Hermione, I know something's been bothering you lately. Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked at the book for a few more moments, then up at him. "Everything's just been too much, lately Harry," she said, finally, in a quiet and miserable little voice. She reminded him of the little girl he knew to start with, more than the half-grown woman he'd become used to lately.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she started to cry. "You need to go to McGonagall," he said. "Tell her you've taken on too much."

Hermione stared at him in horror. "Oh, no, Harry, I couldn't!" She looked at him as if he were suggesting she run naked around the school. "She'd find out, and then I'll be in so much trouble!"

Harry looked at her. "What're you talking about, Hermione?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "Nothing," she insisted. "What are you talking about?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Hermione, you need to get some rest. I'm going to walk you back to your room, ok? Then you just go to sleep and things will make a lot more sense tomorrow."

He managed to get Hermione to the end of the corridor before she started to protest. "I'm ok, Harry," she told him and pulled away. He frowned. "No, you're not, please at least come back to the Tower?"

She rolled her eyes. "I said I was ok," she insisted. "I've got another homework assignment that I have to... oh, damn."

Harry turned his head when she breathed that last whisper. "Damn," he muttered.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, coldly.

"N-no, sir," she squeaked, her face turning a vivid crimson.

"Mr. Potter, release Miss Granger at once. Ten points from Gryffindor for snogging in the corridors."

Harry felt his face go white. He was used to - tired of, but used to - Snape's rude and angry behavior around him. They hated each other, plain and simple, and nothing was going to change that. But embarrassing Hermione like that when she didn't need it, coerced Harry into saying something he probably shouldn't have done. "She fell asleep in the library, Professor," he lied slightly. "She needs to go to bed."

Hermione glared at him.

"I've very little doubt, Potter, that Miss Granger would fall asleep in the library every night if you let her. It's hardly an extraordinary occurrence, given her proclivities toward the excessive and, if it bothers you, I suggest you exchange friends. Get back to your dormitories, both of you, before I take more points."

They hurried away, Hermione with her mouth wide open. When they'd put three flights of stairs between them and the snarky Potions Master, Harry smiled at her. "I think he was complimenting you," he said.

Hermione snorted. "I just love his back-handed appreciation. He and Ron could write a book: Everything to Say to Annoy Every Witch You Know."

Harry laughed as they clattered up the steps. "Chapter 1: Tell Her What to Do."

Hermione snickered. "Chapter 2: Argue. Often."

It was Harry's turn and he had to struggle to find something else Ron and Snape had in common. "Chapter 3: Appearance isn't Everything."

Hermione started to laugh, now. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "Remember that time Ron and I were going into Hogsmeade? And he wore those..."

Harry couldn't help it. He loved Ron, but he knew him. He was laughing when he dropped Hermione off, finally, at her door, and still snickering appreciatively when he arrived on the Quidditch pitch. He forgot to find out what was bothering her.

So tell me what you think! Can't wait to find out!