Chapter 6

In Which Hermione Turns Sly

You know, after spending six years in Hogwarts with Ron and Harry, I think it's safe to say there is a definite pattern emerging with our homework methods. Every year, I come back thinking that they will have changed their ways. But I've always been wrong, every time.

Yes, this may be Sixth year, and already our Professor's are talking of NEWTS as if we're sitting them tomorrow. Yes, we may all be older and more mature etc etc. Yes, Voldemort may be rising into full ugly power and making all our lives hell.

But even in Dark Times, some things will (irritatingly) never, ever change.

I would like to present what I have termed, 'The Homework Cycle.'

The Homework Cycle

By Hermione Jane We-err-Granger

Stage One: We all get mountains of homework.

Stage Two: Harry and Ron make feeble starts on said homework (which roughly translates as writing their names at the top of the parchment, then getting distracted by passing flies)

Stage Three: I arrive. I make starts on my homework.

Stage Four: Ron and Harry make poorly disguised efforts to copy me.

Stage Five: Ron gives up the disguise in frustration, and takes to openly copying me, occasionally employing the ever subtle tactic of standing directly behind me and leaning so close I can feel his breath on my hair.

Stage Six: I get annoyed. I jerk my homework away from both of them, finish it in ten minutes and then sit back to watch them struggle. And laugh. On the inside, though, I'm not quite that harsh.

Every year, from the moment we all became friends to the present day. And even after all this time, they STILL act surprised when I get annoyed with them.

And yet…When I open up the Daily Prophet every morning and look at yet more public warnings about Dark Activity, see pictures of yet another Death Eater broken out from Azkaban, and read about terror rising to such fever pitch it almost emanates from the black print before me, it's sort of nice to look up and see Ron, stuffing his face with toast and complaining loudly about the amount of homework he has to do, just as he always has done.

I was in such a reflective mood today actually, as we made our way to our first Potions lesson. Everything was as usual: Harry had reverted from his 'Malfoy is a Death Eater' theory to the old favourite: 'Snape is working for Voldemort,' no doubt sparked by a fresh surge of hate in the aftermath of our DADA lesson. Ron was doing an excellent job of agreeing happily, joining in enthusiastically, and twitching every time Harry said THAT name. I was listening and frowning slightly, because, as we all must know by now, Dumbledore trusts Snape, and his word is good enough.

Well, anyway. We descended the stairs to the dungeons, chatted to Ernie Macmillan, then finally went in through the door to Slughorn's delighted smile.

The air was thick with smells and steam from several potions already bubbling away in there. At first the smells were all a complete mix that made my head spin, but as we sat down in front of a cauldron emanating the most seductive aroma I'd ever smelt, I found that everything else simply dropped away.

Really. I've smelt some good things in my time, but this one was absolutely gorgeous. It was so lovely I actually sat there and allowed it to fill me from the inside out for a while before attempting to identify it.

It was a beautiful colour – it had an opalescent, mother-of-pearl sheen to its surface. I sat and watched it glimmer in the dull light, trying hard not to let its aroma distract me. Think, Hermione, I told myself sternly. Observe and identify.

Merlin, that smell was wonderful. Somehow, it reminded me simultaneously of new parchment…freshly mown grass…and –

And that was when it clicked.

"Love Potion!" I whispered to myself, a smile pinging onto my face. Of course, it made sense now – the colour, the attractive smell, the characteristic spirals the steam was creating. How I hadn't recognised it instantly was a wonder, really.

It started off as an excellent lesson, and to be honest, the first Potions class I'd ever actually enjoyed. Slughorn went on to telling us about all the different potions he had in the room, and well, as I already knew what they all were, I couldn't resist letting my hand hit the air every time he asked a question. I was fully aware of Malfoy rolling his eyes - but, well – I can't help it if I know a lot. Besides, anything that annoys Malfoy is fine by me, so I didn't exactly try not answering the questions. Even when they were more, um, statements rather than questions.

Such as, for example, when Slughorn said 'Now, this one here…' and I sort of cut him off before he finished speaking to tell him what it was.

Well. He would have asked, anyway. I just saved time, that's all.

And then, as if things couldn't get any better, I hear that Harry had told Slughorn I was, and I quote, 'the best in the year.'

Isn't that such a nice thing to say!

"Did you really tell him that I'm the best in the year?" I whispered in delight, unable to stop myself from beaming, while Harry looked slightly uncomfortable. "Oh, Harry!"

Ron looked peeved. I had only just glanced around at him when he suddenly snapped: "Well, what's so impressive about that? You are the best in the year – I'd've told him so myself if he'd asked me."

Strangely, that made me even happier.

Must have been the Amortentia in the air.

0o0

I'm angry with Harry.

Yes, it surprised me too.

I admit, it's usually Ron who irritates me almost every day. But normally we only bicker for about five minutes and then we've both forgotten about it. It's just the way we function. And if it lasts longer than that, it usually turns into a massive row where we end up screaming at each other – but even the atmosphere after that doesn't last longer than a few days.

But Harry. Me and him have never really rowed. But I swear, if he pushes this one much further, then there is going to be one. And a big one at that.

You remember that day in Potions? Well, Harry did brilliantly on our first ever Potion Slughorn set us. Exceptionally well.

Better than me.

I have to say, I was surprised. I mean, Harry's never been exactly dismal in Potions – but he's never, ever beaten me before. I didn't understand it. All sorts of thoughts were flying through my mind – did Harry actually have a natural aptitude for Potions that Snape had always crushed before? Was he actually some sort of Potions Prodigy!

No. The truth came out soon enough.

It turns out, the old textbook lent to Harry by Slughorn had been scribbled in by its previous owner. Annotating the text with 'useful' hints and 'handy' tips. And Harry had been following them, all the way the potion. Just like that!

I mean, for goodness sake, they're not the REAL instructions! They're just – just shortcuts. Isn't that cheating? And besides, ANYONE could have written in that book. It's not entirely wise to just blindly follow instructions when you don't know who's given them to you, is it?

I thought it was terribly unfair of Harry to keep the book and act as if his potion was all his own work. And he won the Felix Felicis. And he's Slughorn's favourite student now.

I thought everything would be OK when Harry ordered a new book and would have to return the old one back to Slughorn. But no. Harry didn't want to do that. Instead, he committed an unforgivable act of violence no book should ever have to endure.

He ripped the cover off of the brand new book, and stuck it onto the old one.

Honestly. That is what he did.

I was horrified. Harry then went on to explain that he was going to give the new one back to Slughorn with the old cover on it. When I simply sat there and gazed in a scandalised way at him, he said that Slughorn 'couldn't complain, he'd paid nine galleons for that book.'

He'd missed the point so completely and utterly I couldn't even begin to correct him.

And now I'm sitting here on a cold, hard seat in the Quidditch stadium, freezing to death and with only my angry thoughts to keep me warm.

The things I do for Ron and Harry, really. After all that about the book, I could have decided to stay indoors, perhaps with a nice hot cup of cocoa to keep me company. But no, I chose to come and sit out here and cheer them on from the sidelines. Because I'm a good best friend.

And also because Ron looked really quite sick this morning, when Harry mentioned the tryouts.

Oh - not that my presence would have any sort of effect on his nerves, no. Especially not when he's got Lavender Brown to smile her pretty little smile at him.

I have no idea what's wrong with that girl. She's pretty, she's girlie, and she's going after Ron of all people. You should have seen her this morning – smiling her little 'come hither' looks at Ron as we walked past. Of course, Ron just lapped it all up. His usually slouching, graceless walk became something that resembled, and I kid you not, a strut. Well, I suppose that's what he thought it was. I thought he looked rather like cockerel with a battery up its anus, myself.

I can see her now, sitting three rows down from me. Her and Parvati are twittering away. As usual. She hasn't taken her eyes off Ron from the minute she sat down, but I don't think he's even noticed her yet. My God, their incessant giggling is so annoying. And distracting. Don't they realise some of us are trying to concentrate on the tryouts?

It's almost Ron's turn. Just one more person – McLaggen, I think his name is – and then Ron's turn. What on Earth Harry was thinking making Ron go last is beyond me. He hasn't just gone white, he's gone practically transparent down there. Looking like he's about to hyperventilate.

Clutching his broomstick like a kid with a teddy.

Maybe I should have wished him luck before I left him on the pitch. I didn't because – well, I don't know why I didn't. It was after Lavender had smiled at him and I was feeling pretty angry and –

Oh my God. This McLaggen guy is good.

No. Scratch that. He's very good.

Ron looks like he's going to throw up.

He's just saved three goals, one after the other, no trouble at all. He even saved Katie Bell's shot – and she's been playing for over five years now.

He's an excellent Keeper.

Ginny's hurtling in toward him now, her red hair flying out behind her, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Come on, Ginny, you can do it – !

Merlin. She didn't. He saved Ginny's shot. What's more, he didn't even look like it was any sort of bother, you know, just reached out a hand and caught it. Ron's looking away as though he can't bear to watch. McLaggen's just grinning and raising his eyebrows as if to say 'that was too easy.'

If this guy replaces Ron as Keeper, Ron'll probably throw himself off the North Tower.

Almost unconsciously, I slip a hand into my pocket and take out my wand. I don't even know what I'm doing until I look down and see it lying there all innocently in my lap. A plan is starting to half form at the back of my mind, but as Harry's whistle cuts through the chilly air once more I snap my head up.

Demelza Robins' turn. She's quite young but you can see she's determined, and she's really whipping through the air now, a snarl on her face, and McLaggen's straightening up, preparing himself, and their eyes are locked and suddenly, suddenly, I know he's going to save it. She's going to throw it straight into his waiting arms, and he's going to save it.

And I can't let that happen.

My wand's in my hand in a second, and while everyone else's eyes are on Robins, McLaggen and the ball, I muster up the most powerful Confundus curse I can and send it shooting directly at McLaggen.

There is a heartbeat when nothing happens. His eyes are still on the Quaffle speeding toward him – did I miss? – when suddenly he lunges.

At thin air.

The ball whizzes past his head and scores through the centre hoop. Demelza punches the air as people in the stands laugh uproariously. McLaggen stares stupidly at his hands, then furiously wheels around and glares at the Quaffle now sinking slowly to the ground.

I hastily tuck my wand away, my heart pounding.

Ron's turn now. As he climbs onto his broom, looking like he's about to pass out, I feel unexpected tears of sympathy prick at my eyes. He turns his head desperately and suddenly he's looking right at me. I try to give him a bright, supportive smile. Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry I didn't wish you luck –

"Good luck, Ron!"

What. The. Hell.

Parvati bursts into giggles as Lavender buries her face in her hands, her screamed good luck message practically echoing around us. Ron looks amazed and almost flies into the goal post. Suddenly I feel I'd quite like to get my wand, point it at the back of Lavender's head and jinx her into next month.

I won't, though. A member of the audience suddenly sprouting tentacles might be a distraction for Ron. And he really doesn't need any distractions right now. I watch him take Keeper position with my heart banging away so violently I thought it was going to burst out and start running around the pitch, jibbering insanely.

I needn't have worried. He saved all five goals with grace. His face was really quite hilarious as he demounted his broom – like he couldn't quite believe it. The new team all swarmed together as one, and as they all stood there congratulating each other, I saw Lavender rise up eagerly, almost hungrily, her eyes fixed, eagle like, on Ron. My wand arm twitched.

Oh, why not, I thought to myself. I'd already cursed someone else on the sly, why stop now? I hurried down the steps as fast as I could, tossing a Trip Jinx at her as she started toward the stairs. Her resounding curses were all I needed to hear to go galloping past, and then down the continuous, tightly spiralled stairs and, finally, I had burst out into the weak sunlight.

There was Ron, still looking dazed. I put a dazzling smile on.

"You did brilliantly, Ron!" I cried enthusiastically, running toward him, all smiles and joy. For a moment he stared at me, then his face split into a broad grin. I felt a burst of inexplicable joy inside me – out the corner of my eye I saw Lavender go stalking off the pitch, her expression murderous. I resisted the urge to giggle.

It wasn't exactly fair play, I know, and I'm stunned that I even did it. But all is fair in love and war. Even Lavender knows that.

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Note from Mooncheese, aka Author: well, hello there! I really loved writing this chapter, I hope I've got Hermione down to a tee now. Let me know if you agree (we all know how to do that... Hint: it starts with an 'R' and ends with a 'W' (looks pointedly at review button))

Note from Aiko'sNight-Patrol, aka Beta: I personaaly think (all respect to Mooncheese) that this chapter freaking RAWKES dudies. If you realised how much reviews mean to us then you would be a dear and click that little baby blue button in the corner there (smiles sweetly)...

xxxTheEdithFactoryxxx