Hermione Granger had somehow managed to teleport from Ancient Runes. That was the only explanation, Draco Malfoy thought crossly. Because here she was, looking completely unruffled, laying out the ingredients. With the barest of glances up at him, she said shortly, "We'll be needing bicorn horn, and crushed caryatids *"

"As if you needed to tell me that, girl." Draco Malfoy was careful to put the same scorn in what he said that he'd have used if he had used the word Mudblood. It wasn't the words that mattered, but the tone.

The potion itself was easy enough to brew - Snape never assigned projects that weren't at least half done, and able to be completed by Longbottom besides.

Within five minutes, the two of them were in a heated argument on the merits of a proposed substitution of wisent horn for the bicorn horn. Odds were looking good for the substitution, Malfoy admitted within his head, while not quite daring to speak the words aloud. He would not compliment her.

Finally, Granger looked up at him, her warm brown eyes glowing fiercely, "Let's try it and find out!"

Draco frowned back, saying shortly, "But the potion's past that point... Surely you don't mean to..." After all, adding more at this stage would be disasterous - and she knew that, right?

"Let's start another! You can handle the first one, and if we're right on this... just think of the possibilities!" Granger's grin was showing off her overbite, her hair was as wild as he'd ever seen it (she had a tendency to not mind it in potions class - there were enough other things to keep track of) - and yet Draco found her more vibrant than anyone he'd ever met.

"This was your idea. You'll take the blame if my godfather gets upset." Which he will, because Severus Snape was not fond of Gryffindors in the first place - let alone ones who took it on themselves to experiment in his classroom. Nevermind that with Draco Malfoy there, Granger was safer than a sausage-kitten rolled up in one of his mother's towels.

To no one's great surprise, Snape was furious when he stormed back in - both because Granger would need to stay later to finish the damnable "improved" potion, and because he hadn't been consulted first.

"If, Miss Granger, you insist on being a know-it-all and improving the academic curriculum with your ill-advised experiments, You will complete an essay on the merits of each proposed substitution, and their combinations, before every session. Draco Malfoy, you will complete the same - as her partner, I hold you responsible for this incaution and Gryffindor stupidity."

"Yes sir." Draco Malfoy said shortly, cursing his luck on the whole "now you've got ten essays assigned for two days from now" business. Not that they weren't deserved, which in some way made it feel worse. After all, it was easy to blame a stupid teacher assigning pointless, crappy essays.

Granger was nearly vibrating with excitement on her way out - was she actually looking forward to the essays? Yes, yes she was.

*yes, I do know what a caryatid is. but it sounds like an insect, so pretend it's a magical one!

[a/n: Write me a review. I hate writing these conflict bits, but they're just as much part of the story as the poetry.

Up Next: more poetry, of course. And Hermione Hunting.

Write a review if you like this story - and if you don't, I've got others for you!]