Disclaimer: I don't own anything, or else I wouldn't be writing a disclaimer.

(A/N: Ok, im sorry about this being confusing and all but note that I'm writing this mostly for my own entertainment. So I'm sorry…but I did edit the first two chapters, hope they're at least a little better!)

Chapter Three

Fowl Play

'Prefects, lead the first years to their dorms!'

Hermione ignored the issue, seeing as she had no first years to lead. McGonagall had given the order, as Dumbledore had already retired to his office to investigate the sorting hat. The day he would allow Voldemort to roam HIS school, he'd eat his hat…mainly because it was possessed by the latter. Even the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to withstand the power of an old man's digestive system.

Hermione walked out of the hall all alone. Her pumps clacked against the flagstone floor, sending lonely echoes ricocheting through Hogwarts. She hummed something to herself to break the eerie silence. Who would have guessed she was a baritone?

She was so absorbed in her hum-fest that she didn't notice a certain blonde head bobbing through the halls behind her. It came as a shock when, as she admired herself in a coincidentally placed mirror, she saw Draco Malfoy lurking behind her.

'Why Granger,' he purred.

'What do you want, Malfoy?' Hermione shot back. She gave him her most evil glare, which wasn't evil at all considering the masses of goop she had slathered over her face. There was so much make up on there that, ten minutes later, her face was still caked in a scowl.

'I just wanted to warn you…' Malfoy muttered. 'There is…a squirrel…on your head.'

'Oh my GOD!' Hermione shrieked. Her hand flew up to her head, but found no rodents nesting there.

'Oh wait, that's just your hair,' Malfoy smirked. Hermione would have glared at him again, but her face was already contorted into one. So she didn't bother. He was such a prick!

'Bugger off Malfoy,' Hermione sneered. 'Unless you have something useful to say.' She slowly reached into her pocket. Malfoy thought she was about to pull out her wand, but instead, she pulled out a shrimp and viciously bit the head off. There is something seriously wrong with this chick, he thought.

'I just wanted to tell you,' he muttered. He leaned up to her ear, so close his breath rustled her perfect hairdo. 'There is a fine in this school for being too hot…and you are guilty.' He smiled wolfishly at her and backed away. Hermione giggled and blushed under all that foundation.

'I'm flattered, Malfoy,' she grinned, 'but I hate y'-

'No, I'm serious,' Malfoy cut in curtly. 'Nine sickles, hand 'em over.'

'How dare you! I will do no such thing!' Hermione cried furiously. 'I think I shall scoff haughtily in your general direction!' And that she did. But, right as she was about to storm off, Dumbledore came jogging down the hall.

'I have destroyed the dark Lord Voldemort!' he whooped happily. He waved a flattened sorting cap over his head like a war banner and whooped again.

'Voldie's hat, Voldie's hat, I smashed it flat and that was that!' he sang. 'I've never seen a hat as flat as that! Let's turn it into a doormat!' He joyfully hugged Draco and Hermione, and then pranced off.

'That was interesting,' Hermione muttered blandly. '…And if you'll excuse me, Malfoy, I have some pressing business to attend to.'

'And what would that be?' Malfoy snapped. Hermione didn't bother to dignify his answer with a response. She stalked off and refused to dignify him with a response.

Malfoy was furious with her. No one turned him down, no one! But she just had. He was fuming, but he refused to let his emotions show. It would ruin his bad boy image. Instead of chasing after her and knocking some sense into that vacant head, he put on some funky sunglasses and marched off.

Later that day, Hermione found herself, once again, in the company of Ron and Harry. She wasn't sure where they had gone or when they returned, but they both came back with several cans of shrimp. So everyone was happy.

Harry coughed slightly and looked over at Hermione. She was so beautiful…he just had to have her. He had to, or he would die a slow and painful death, a horrid death, an utterly grotesque and inhumane death, without her he would not be nothing…he shook his head, telling himself not to use double negatives in a run on sentence.

'Hermione,' he finally said to her.

'Harry,' Hermione replied. They paused, staring deeply into each other's eyes…like two humming birds. No one was quite sure why, but they were more like two hummingbirds than, say, two pairs of funky sunglasses. For they were definitely not cool. Both perspired under the other's gaze, Harry passionate, Hermione uneasy. It was Ron who broke the awkward silence by chucking his owl at Harry. Peeved, Harry whistled for Hedwig and when she came, chucked her right back at Ron. Soon it evolved to an all-out owl fight. Feathers flew, beaks smashed holes in the wall and Hermione ate the remainder of the shrimp. The owl fight ended as quickly as it started, however, when the two boys ran out of suitable owls. Most were stuck in the walls, struggling to pull their beaks free, or had flown out the window.

Harry and Ron panted heavily, sitting down next to Hermione. They were both exhausted. Ron looked around and asked dejectedly, 'Where have all the shrimp gone?'