A/N - thank you to those of you who have already followed/favourited/reviewed, or even read. It

Chapter 2 - Challenge accepted

"Who did you get, Ron?" Pavarti Patil, the other Gryffindor prefect asked.

The Gryffindors were sitting around the common room. Ron had admittedly missed the cozyness that the fire provided, in such a small and circular room.

"Hermione Granger," he answered with an eye-roll. A few people laughed or said 'ooo' in sympathy.

"Oh my, I couldn't even imagine being paired with a Slytherin. What would they even talk about?" Katie Bell asked, wincing at the thought.

"Death and stuff, I'd imagine," Seamus replied.

"Death and stuff. Great," sighed Ron, sarcastically.

"You never know, she might not be that bad," Dean said, although his expression displayed that he didn't even believe his own words.

"No, she's just lovely in lessons," Harry joked.

Ron groaned, recalling all of the times he had sat in lessons, listening to her witter on about Merlin knows what, praying that she'd shut up.

"Wait, did you say Hermione Granger, Ron?" Neville asked.

"Yep," Ron said dryly.

"Sh-she's gorgeous!"

Everyone turned to Neville, wearing smirks as they watched realisation dawn upon him.

"But-uh- she's so annoying that you barely even notice," he mumbled, turning red.

"Nice save," Ron commented, and the group erupted into laughter.

Hermione was in the library, finishing some reading that she was completing for her first History of Magic essay, when she glanced at her watch with a heavy sigh. She was quite content with finishing her day's work, but alas, it was her first night of patrols.

Not that she was ever one to break the rules - it just seemed like a waste of time, in her opinion - Hermione had to admit that she sometimes found the patrols rather exasperating. In fifth year, Draco had been a boring patrol partner. He was so fixated on whatever Harry Potter and his friends were up to, that he was never really paying all too much attention to the corridors.

But now, as she was walking towards the starting point of the patrol route, Hermione supposed that even Draco would be a better option than Ron Weasley. It was only going to be incredibly awkward. Even if she never really taunted Harry and his friends, in the way that Draco and the other Slytherins did, it didn't mean that she cared at all for them.

But hopefully the disappointment of this pairing was mutual, and Hermione could just get on with it, and go back to her dormitory without having been agitated by him.

But, of course, life just wasn't that simple, as they hadn't even begun the patrol and he was already getting on her nerves. Late, of course. She huffed as she tapped her foot impatiently. Quarter of an hour had passed, and Hermione was about to storm off and march right up to Snape's office, when she heard the sounds of footsteps running towards her.

She rolled her eyes as he came to a halt before her, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "You're late," she snapped, turning on her heel and beginning the patrol.

Behind her, Ron rolled his eyes, before jogging lightly to catch up with her. "Sorry, Quidditch training ran over," he apologised as he fell into stride with her.

"You don't look as if you've just come straight from the Quidditch pitch," she scoffed, her nose flooded with the scent of what she assumed was his overbearing aftershave.

"I had a quick shower afterwards." Just as bloody difficult as I imagined, he thought.

"You went for a shower instead of trying to get here on time?" she huffed incredulously.

"I'm sorry," he said sarcastically. "Would you prefer to walk around with me smelling of sweat and mud?"

Hermione scrunched her nose disgustedly at the thought, but snapped, "I would prefer for you to actually be on time, for once."

For once? This has been our only one! Ron just shook his head annoyedly as opposed to retorting. It was going to be a long enough evening without her being a bitch.

The rest of the round passed in mostly silence. Hermione had her arms folded across her chest, looking away from Ron, who had his hands shoved in his pockets.

There was a moment where Ron had started whistling out of boredom, but Hermione kept shooting him a pointed glare until he stopped. They had finally finished, by which point Ron had calmed down quite a bit. Training had gone well, for once, so after swallowing a large bout of pride, he turned to Hermione.

"I'm sorry I was late," he said sincerely, towering over her as they stood to face each other, for the first time this evening.

Hermione had to crane her neck to look up at him. "What's a mere apology going to do?" she huffed.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Are you always this bloody difficult?"

"Are you always this irresponsible?" she challenged. Neither would be able to provide an argument for why they were still standing there, rather than just returning to their respective common room. But, that didn't seem to stop them.

"Bloody hell, I was only late by fifteen minutes! What do you do that's so important, that not even a quarter of an hour of your precious time can be wasted?" he laughed maliciously.

"Well, just because idiots like you obviously don't care about your education, doesn't mean we all waste the time, that we should be doing work, so carelessly!"

Ron hesitated before responding. He eventually let out a mirthless chuckle. "Oh, right, I forgot that you're the swot who arse licks all the teachers, because you can't even imagine the horror of not being the absolute best know-it-all in the classroom!" he fired.

"How dare you! You don't even know me! Not that you'd know anything about being the best at something. Just look at where you come from, look at your f-" but suddenly, Hermione stopped herself. She was insulting his family, yet she stopped herself. She didn't know why she had. Obviously, it would be a bitter blow to attack his family, but why did that matter to her? It didn't. So, why did she suddenly stop shouting?

"What? Were you going to mock my family? Merlin, never heard that one before," he exclaimed sarcastically. "Why don't you go and tell Malfoy, I'd bet he be so proud."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she couldn't stop herself from retorting. The sudden hesitation she experienced was slipping away as fast as it appeared.

But instead of retaliating any further, Ron just shook his head, his eyes full of anger as he turned away and left her standing there. Hermione's breathing was short and heavy after their shouting match, she watched him stride away, before shaking her head in anger and turning on her own heel.

"You knew it was going to be atrocious. I don't know why you even gave him the satisfaction of arguing," Daphne said, folding her uniform.

Hermione had returned to her dormitory in a terrible mood, and, as soon as she noted that the rest of the dorm was empty, she immediately started ranting to Daphne.

"Because he was acting insufferably," Hermione scoffed. Daphne was about to interject, but Hermione continued. "Honestly, I've never met anyone with such little tact, and I only spent an hour with him! One of his arguments was that I was essentially too smart," she laughed. "Meanwhile, it's a wonder that he can even spell his own name."

"I bet you're excited for the rest of the term, then," Daphne chuckled. Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of waiting three months for the Prefect rotas to change.

"Just his presence was rather exhausting. I've half a mind to demand I have a new partner," she said as an afterthought, gathering her toiletries.

Daphne just laughed in response. "You surely couldn't have expected any less."

"No, I suppose that's true," Hermione conceded, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She was truly exhausted.

"Hey, Ron. How was it?" Harry asked apprehensively, his best friend walking grumpily through the portrait hole.

"Bloody rubbish," Ron sighed, crashing to one of the maroon sofas.

"Was she really that awful?" Harry cringed at his own question, feeling no envy for Ron.

"Worse. We argued, quite badly," answered Ron, rubbing his tired face with his hands.

"On the first day?" Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He put down the Half-blood Prince's textbook, offering Ron his full attention.

"She's a bloody nightmare, Harry," Ron groaned.

"What did you argue about?"

"I was a bit late after Quidditch, which was simply just completely unacceptable," he began in a mocking tone. "Anyway, once we had finished, I apologised to her for, y'know, being late and all, and she completely blew up. Said something like 'what's an apology gonna do'." Ron rolled his exhausted-looking eyes.

"At least you apologised," Harry provided wearily.

"Yeah. It's fine, I've just learned that there's no point trying to be civil," said Ron tiredly, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes.

"Fair enough, mate." The portrait door swung open again, and in came a giggly Dean and Ginny. "I think I'll be off to bed now," Harry said quickly.

"Why are you down here so late? Staying up for me?" Ron teased.

"Oh, of course," Harry joked back. "No, I was just… reading."

Ron opened one eye lazily, before spotting that old potions book in Harry's hand and clicking his tongue. "'Course. I'll be up, myself, just give me a min," he yawned, feeling the effects of both training and walking aimlessly through corridors wear on him.

"'Night," Harry called, before heading up the steps to the boys dormitory.

Ron could feel himself start to doze off, when a tap on his shoulder startled him back into wakefulness. He turned his head to the side, surprised to find Lavender Brown smiling down at him.

"Uh, hey, Lavender," Ron said, perplexed.

"Hi, Ron. I was about to go to bed, but I just wanted to tell you that I think whoever you were talking about, with Harry before, was completely out of order for not accepting your apology," she smiled.

Ron was still rather confused. He hadn't thought that anyone was listening to his conversation.

"Uhh, thanks," he said with a brief nod. Lavender didn't seem at all fazed by his bewildered demeanour. In fact, she was beaming at him as she shyly waved, before turning and running to her own dormitory.

Ron just stood up and shook his head in confusion. He didn't focus too much on it though, as he headed up to bed, himself.

The following day wasn't so abysmal for Hermione. Potions was both frustrating and somewhat interesting. Frustrating because somehow, of all people, Harry Potter was actually doing well. It angered Hermione. She could admit that that the 'Boy Who Lived' was brighter than his oaf of a friend, but that wasn't a particularly high standard to surpass. But Harry had never been a shining star in lessons, especially Potions. So, now as he became actually decent, Hermione knew there had to be something going on.

For a moment, she thought about the insult Ron had thrown her from the night previous, about how she had to be the best in the class. Hermione quickly shook away that brief thought. As if she cared, even in the slightest, about what Ron Weasley had to say about her. Honestly, she could laugh at herself.

What made that Potions lesson somewhat interesting was when Professor Slughorn had asked Hermione to stay back. She had missed the lunch on the train, and she was definitely paying for it now. However, Slughorn talking her ear off wasn't completely pointless, when he showed Hermione a photo of one of his classes from when he used to teach in Hogwarts. In the middle, stood her mum, smiling brightly towards the camera.

The sight shifted something inside Hermione. She had never seen a photograph of her mother. Martha had wanted to show one to Hermione, but they both feared what would happen if her father caught Hermione in possession of one. He was very… sensitive when it came to her mother, so Hermione knew embarrassingly little about the person who gave birth to her.

But, as she looked down at the thirty-year-old photo, Hermione felt a weird familiarity by seeing her mother's face. It turned out that she not only had her mum's hair, but her eyes, too. In fact, Hermione could barely see her father in her physical appearance, once she had learned what her mother had looked like. Of course, as she vaguely listened to what Slughorn was trudgeling on about, Hermione noted that her personality was definitely more recognisable as her father's. And rightly so. By the sounds of things, Hermione's mother was the exact stereotypical Gryffindor that she had grown up to hate.

The patrol that evening, to Hermione's grand surprise, was much less intolerable. She and Ron didn't speak at all, neither of them wishing to mention what happened the previous night. It was by no means pleasant, but at least he was on time. Which should be a given, she thought irritably.

Now, she was sitting in the Great Hall, eating breakfast. Early as ever, so there were only a handful of students scattered around the long tables. Hermione rolled her eyes at the quickly increasing noise of conversation, as more and more students began to file in.

"Good morning," said Daphne, sitting beside Hermione.

"Morning," Hermione replied, stirring her porridge absently.

"Granger," came Draco's voice from opposite her. Hermione's eyes were still downcast to her porridge.

"Draco," she said, not bothering to look up yet.

"How are your merry evenings with that old Weasel going?" he asked with a mirthless chuckle.

"Dismally," Hermione answered, looking up.

"No surprise there," Draco quipped. "But, seeing as you're going to be spending a lot of time with our dear friend, I thought we'd may as well get something out of it."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been devising a… plan, of sorts. I think I'll be finding myself terribly busy this year, and the last thing I need is Harry bloody Potter getting under my feet," Draco explained.

"What are you going to be busy with, Draco?" Pansy asked from beside him. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I think you'll find that that's none of your business," Draco snapped. "Anyway, as I'm sure you're aware, good old Weasley is nothing if not a simple fool, which makes him a perfect candidate for what I have planned," he explained further, reaching into the pockets of his robe and pulling out a scroll of parchment and an odd-looking quill.

"This is a piece of Prying Parchment. Only the person in possession of this quill-" he held up the oddly shaped quill- "can view what's written upon it. I want you to use it with Weasley. Merlin knows he's thick enough to spill any secrets that Potter would foolishly trust him with."

Hermione studied the scroll of parchment. "He may be dim, but he's not possessed, Draco. He would never tell me anything that's worth while," Hermione argued.

"Of course, not. If you act with him how you usually would." A cunning smile began to grow on Draco's face.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she was beginning to draw a conclusion. Surely Draco wasn't proposing that she…

"You need to make him believe that you, as absurd as it sounds, fancy him, or at least wish to befriend him," Draco continued. Many of the Slytherins around them sneered or even laughed at the suggestion. "I'll reiterate; it sounds ridiculous. But remember the sort that we're dealing with. He'd jump at the chance, Granger. Can't you imagine the look on the fool's face when he actually thinks you like him?"

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment. This was massively risky, as well as utterly ridiculous. Why would Ron believe, even for a moment, that she had had a sudden change of heart, when she hadn't ever shown anything but disdain for him over the years. For that exact reason, why would she even want to? Honestly, she and him as friends. The thought was rather comical, really, let alone frankly despicable. Also, Hermione had never wanted to participate in these sorts of plans before. The way Draco's obsession consumed him wasn't the best advertisement. No, there was no way she'd do it.

"So? Are you up for it?" Draco pressed.

Hermione was about to respond negatively, when she quickly thought back to how Harry was doing suspiciously well in Potions. There was definitely something happening there, and she couldn't lie to say that she was itching to know what.

And, she supposed, it would hardly be as extreme as what Draco did in order to track Harry Potter, in the past. Ron was, as Draco said, rather simple. It probably wouldn't take much, and no one else around this table would handle it, frankly.

"Okay," she finally answered, eliciting a smug smile from Draco.

"Good." He passed her the Prying Parchment and quill. "We'll check in soon," he said, before standing up and leaving.

"Good luck," Daphne shook her head, grabbing her bag. Hermione picked up her own, and as the other Slytherins began to depart, they all made jokes or smirked at Hermione.

Just as she was about to leave, Hermione could notice, with the gap created by Draco's absence, a chunk of the Gryffindor table. There he was. Laughing at something quite hysterically. Hermione rolled her eyes, although the sight did stir a slight feeling of unease as she looked back down towards the parchment. Hermione assumed it was the scepticism she felt for the plan's outcome.

She had a full day of lessons before even having to worry about her approach, however. And, really, how difficult could it be?

If you're wondering how Ron got on to the team without the help of Hermione's confundus charm, just assume that Cormac wouldn't want to trial for Keeper if Hermione wasn't there to impress.

I mean, even as I'm writing that, it sounds ridiculous. But, hey, let's all suspend our disbelief.