Title: Break My Heart Not My Face

Author: Leopard Print and Diamonds

Notes: First day of school! And it's a long one. Poor Hermione. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, added this to their faves, or did a story alert. You're all too cool for school.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter stuff belong to JKR. I just wrote this story.

Chapter Four: Brewing up Trouble

Everyone at breakfast was a tangle of earbuds and Ipods. Last night, the house prefects had handed out the mp3 players and laptop computers to the students. Dumbledore had said something about using the technology to create equality and camaraderie between houses ... but instead, it seemed to create a bigger distance between people.

Hermione passed the Head of House table. In fact, she turned her head and ignored it. She and Malfoy had to sit there for special occasion, but other than that, they were free to sit anywhere else--aka as far, far away from each other as possible.

A small cluster of Gryffindors hooted and waved to catch her attention. She smiled, recognizing Neville. Harry and Ron, of course, were probably still in bed. And would miss out on breakfast. Her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Ron at potions in the afternoon.

"C'mon, Hermione! Saved you a seat!" Neville shouted, popping her dream bubble with a bagel slathered in cream cheese. Hermione blushed and joined her housemates.

She didn't get to think much about Ron for the rest of the morning.

Her first class of the day was Advanced Arithmancy--the study of the legitimate, logical way of using numbers and letters to tell fortunes. Arithmancy was the complete opposite of the rubbish that owl-faced Professor Trelawney taught in her bat's belfry of a classroom. Who could trust mushy tea leaves and scratched crystal balls? Hermione hmphed. Arithmancy was superior in every way, even though it was a hundred times more difficult...

She arrived to class ten minutes early so she could take her usual place at the middle desk in the front row. The prime seat. But someone was already there. Hermione fumed.

"Slacking off, Granger? I've been here for a whole ten minutes." Malfoy smirked. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You lose." A radiant, evil smile lit up his face.

There were only twelve seats in the classroom (yeah, Arithmancy was the least popular class EVER). The seats were grouped in four rows of three desks. With Draco in the middle of the front row, it meant that Hermione had to sit beside him if she wanted to be in the front row. She didn't like her options.

Frowning, Hermione picked the desk to his left. It scrapped painfully against the floor as she pulled it further away from him. The extra space was worth the effort. Malfoy snickered and plugged himself into his Slytherin-green Ipod. The thing appeared to be custom-made for him. Knowing Malfoy, it was probably pure silver. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Good morning, Hermione and Draco. Congratulations on being chosen as Heads of House." Professor Vector smiled. She set a gigantic portfolio brimming with papers on her desktop. After a few moments to adjust her fashionably angular glasses, she leaned against the side of the desk.

"Shouldn't we wait for the other students to get here? Before we start?" Hermione raised her hand. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and slight panic.

Professor Vector smiled. She was the youngest professor at Hogwarts and the most easy-going... even though her classes could be classified as mental torture.

"You're it, kiddo. You and Draco were the only students who passed last term. Doesn't that make things nice and simple?" Her equally angular face widened in a smile. "Weeding out the smarter students means we can move at a faster pace this term. We can also cover more complex equations and subjects. I'm very, very excited." Her violet eyes twinkled. It made Hermione a bit nervous. "Since there are only two of you, I'm debating how I want to structure the class. We can meet here like normal, or do group work or independent studies outside of class..." She ticked off the possibilities on her fingers.

"Independent study sounds like the most challenging option." Draco pretended to think things over. "I'd benefit most from it. Don't you think so ... Hermione?" His smile was suspiciously sweet. His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly in warning, telling Hermione that she'd damn well better agree.

"Oh yes, definitely. Group work can be soooo tedious. Usually, more gossiping gets done than studying."

"And I don't work well with others. I'm plagued by perfectionism." Malfoy added, as charming as a toothy barracuda. Professor Vector nodded and appeared to mull over their opinions.

"We'll see. Let's have regular classes for a week, agreed? I'll let you know how I'm going to assign the major projects."

Hermione nearly hunched over in disappointment. The thought of having her grade depend on Malfoy caused a mental black cloud to spit thunder and rain on her good mood. Ron was the only happy thought that kept her sane. Seeing him felt like opening presents at Christmas--she could barely wait for it. At the end of class, she shoved a ton of homework parchments into her bag. She accidentally shouldered Malfoy as she walked to the doorway.

"'Scuse me." Was all she muttered. It was all he deserved. She slipped into the ladies' loo to check her hair and to apply fresh lip gloss. Any other year at Hogwarts, she wouldn't have cared so much about her appearance. But nearly dying in the battle of the Department of Mysteries had changed her. Hermione was different now.

Before her heart problems, she didn't care about herself enough to buy pretty clothes or makeup. She had hidden her painfully low self-esteem behind a know-it-all attitude and a mass of frizzled hair. The complications with her heart had forced her to re-evaluate things. Hermione had realized that she didn't want to live a life of meekness and regrets. So, she had made the decision to take pride in herself for more than her school marks.

Gazing into a mirror fixed above a sink, Hermione applied lip-gloss and a smudge of shimmery eyeshadow. It made her hazel eyes pop with simple beauty. She wet her hands and scrunched the ends of her hair into slight waves. Hopefully Ron would notice the subtle change. Ha. Not likely. But she did it for herself.

The same went for her choice in shoes. Before, Hermione had worn the most dreadful, practical shoes. They were funky, chunky, and plain butt ugly. Now, she only wore lovely designer brand shoes. She wasn't a label snob ... she only wanted to wear the best and the prettiest Muggle shoes. Transfiguration helped her budget A LOT. It was easy to wear designer couture when she could turn an ugly pair of shoes into Prada slingback kitten heels with a wave of her wand.

Hermione grinned, glad she'd transfigured her ugly old school shoes into a pair of patent leather Manolo Blahnik maryjanes--ones with a modified lower heel, of course. They went beautifully with her black textured tights. She sprayed her neck and wrists with a perfume that smelled like a sugar cookie covered in orange zest and warm spices. If Ron didn't notice her body (seeing as how school robes weren't flattering at all), he would definitely noticed that she smelled like food. Laughing, she threw her bag over her shoulder and walked to Potions with a bounce in her sassy-shoed step.

Thankfully, she was the first person to arrive. She used her bookbag and an advanced transfiguration textbook to claim seats for Harry and Ron. They beamed when they walked into the dungeon.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, clamping her into a bear hug. "You survived the night! Ron was worried Malfoy would try something sinister." He elbowed his friend in the ribs.

"Right! It's good to see you're all right, 'Mione." Ron smiled and took his turn in hugging her. "His face was downright murderous last night at dinner. He's probably plotting some kind of revenge for what Crookshanks did."

Hermione blushed.

"I don't know where he learned a trick like that." She laughed. "Am I a horrible person for still smiling when I think about how Malfoy sort of rolled as he fell? Kind of like a barrel."

"Not a barrel. A windmill." Harry added with a smirk. "We should make Crookshanks our official good luck charm this season. You could bring him to games and let the players pet him before we play. Snape would be livid. Word is, he's allergic to cats..."

"Ooooh, dirty tactics. Nice to see you're taking your captain role seriously." Hermione whispered as other students began to filter into the room. She narrowed her eyes at Draco Malfoy when he and his Slytherin posse slithered into the classroom. Pansy Parkinson whispered something under her breath that made the group erupt into loud, mocking laughter. It was obvious her comment was a snipe at the Golden Trio. Hermione frowned.

"She probably tried to count to five and missed." Harry whispered to Hermione. She had to place a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. Ever since her heart problems started, her friends had developed an embarrassing game of protecting her from stress and sadness by making her laugh. She pushed Harry's arm.

"No, Harry. She probably said the Malfoys really were under a spell when they helped You-Know-Who. Really, the Malfoys were cursed. Helpless. Completely under a spell..." Ron whispered in her other ear. Hermione bit her lip. Her stomach hurt from holding the laughter in. She shouldered him gently and shh'd him.

"No, Ron. Pansy probably told Malfoy that she's a virgin. And if he wants proof, he can go talk to the last ten guys she slept with." Harry said, imitating Pansy's blank-eyed mannerisms as he spoke. Hermione laughed so hard, tears formed in her eyes. She had to rest her forehead on the tabletop and hide her face so people wouldn't stare at her. Ron rubbed her back with a big, reassuring hand. She smiled a secret smile.

When class started, Snape oh-so-nicely put her in a group with Pansy and Goyle. He sent Malfoy to her old seat between Harry and Ron. Apparently, he wanted the class to fall into a blaze of chaos and catfights on the first day of classesl. Or, he wanted Harry and Ron to do something to lose house points. Hopefully they wouldn't fall for Snape's trap. Their house points were in the positive numbers so far today...

"When brewed correctly, your potion should emit a fragrance of gardenia and have a slight silver sheen mixed into the overall dull yellow color. Remember to stir the potion in a count-clockwise motion only. Clockwise stirring negates the protective properties of foxglove." The words rattled from Snape like old, dry bones. Hands clasped behind his back and black robes flowing, he paced the classroom. His beady eyes missed no mistakes.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter. You're supposed to dip the mermaid hair into the powdered mugwort AFTER you knot it nine times. Not BEFORE. Clean that bit off and knot it again. Otherwise, you'll be serving detention tonight in the lake with a pair of barber shears. Understood?" He spoke down his hooked nose. Draco sniggered. Harry grit his teeth and managed a nod.

"That's not how you grind mugwort. Are you stupid? How the hell were YOU picked for Head Girl?" Pansy Parkinson's voice was a high-pitched, nasal whine. Hermione cringed.

"I am perfectly capable. And I'm Head Girl because Dumbledore picked me. Go whine to him if you have a complaint." She replied and ground the pestle into the mortar with a vicious twist, pretending the mugwort was Pansy's face...

"Bah! Let me do that!" Pansy cawed, snatching the mortar and pestle from Hermione's hands. She and Goyle exchanged a quick glance.

"Give it back!" Hermione growled in frustration, keeping her voice low. Goyle placed himself between Hermione and Pansy like a wall. Arms crossed in front of his chest, the massive beast stared down at Hermione. She wasn't afraid.

"Is there a problem here, children?" Snape quirked a craggy black eyebrow.

"No, Sir. I was just about to give this powdered mugwort to Granger. She needs to make sure I've ground it properly." Pansy's eyelashes fluttered as she switched from psychopath to thoughtful lab partner.

"Very well." He fixed himself at the end of the table. "Miss Granger, please dip the knotted mermaid hair in the mugwort. When you've done that, place the hair into the cauldron. The mixture should turn black for a second." He instructed dryly. Hermione did exactly what he told her to do. The potion didn't change colors--it exploded and surrounded her in a chokingly thick cloud of blue smoke.

She sputtered a cough, waving her hand in front of her mouth to thin out the cloud. It only grew more dense and concentrated around her body until she had her own smoggy atmosphere.

"What's happening? She can't breathe!" A girl, who wasn't Pansy, screamed. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on. Harry and Ron shot from their seats. Everyone followed, gathering around the spectacle.

"Ventus fervens!" Snape commanded, brandishing his wand. A spiral of hot wind struck Hermione with enough force to dissipate the blanket of smoke. It rose, a bluish haze, to the high ceiling. Hermione coughed and gulped a breath of stale dungeon air. It was fresh enough.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Harry and Ron were suddenly at her side. She nodded and grimaced as the horrible stink of smoke hit her nose. Instead of smelling like a cookie, she smelled like a bonfire.

"I'm fine. I reek, though." With a small laugh, she wrinkled her nose.

"I thought you said she has asthma!" Pansy's whisper was a loud hiss. She wound back and punched Malfoy's arm.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Miss Parkinson?" Snape turned to the Slytherin girl.

"Um...I was merely commenting to Draco that I hope the smoke didn't, ah, you know, bother Hermione's asthma." She stumbled through the sentence like a drunken person trying to walk a straight line.

"She doesn't have asthma, you git! Where'd you hear that?" Ron shouted. Pansy glared at Malfoy then at her shoes. Malfoy kept silent. He clenched his jaw.

Malfoy...

He set up the whole thing, Hermione realized.

On the Express, she had lied about her heart condition. She'd told him it was 'asthma'. The blue cloud of smoke that spewed from the cauldron was supposed to trigger a breathing condition she didn't even have. Hermione paled in fury, disgusted at the three Slytherins' cruelty. Up until this moment, she hadn't grasped the full potential of their evil nature. They were now sub-human in her eyes. Lower than the slime on dirt grubs.

"Er, Ron, I do have asthma... I was too ashamed to admit it to anyone. I'm only okay because I tried really, really hard to hold my breath." Oh, boy, was she going to roll with the lie. "I'm actually pretty light-headed right now. All the excitement is making ... me... cough." She erupted into a small fit of wheezing coughs. A murmur of concern breathed through the small crowd.

"Potter, Weasley--take Miss Granger to the hospital wing. Ten points from Gryffindor for turning my classroom into a smokehouse. Five points from Slytherin for not minding their own business." Snape's lip curled in disdain. "Everyone please bring thirteen inches of parchment next time--I wish to hear all about the proper technique for using a mortar and pestle. Class dismissed!" He stormed. Turning, he stalked to his office.

In the hallway, a couple of students from the potions class offered to walk with Ron, Harry, and Hermione to the hospital wing.

"Oh, thank you. I'll be fine. See you Thursday." Hermione couldn't wave goodbye because Harry and Ron held her by the elbows.

"What was that rubbish about your asthma? You weren't keeping it from us, were you?" Harry whispered as they walked toward the hospital wing.

"No. I don't have it, but Malfoy thinks I do. I had an 'episode' on the train and told him it was my 'asthma'. Last night, he told me that I'd regret Crookshanks tripping him. I guess this is his form of payback." Hermione sighed. Ron's fingers clamped down on her arm.

"I'll bloody murder him! And his bitch girlfriend." Ron muttered caustically. "Even for Malfoy, that was a low move. You're not safe living with him!"

"What?! I'm not living with him. We have our own rooms." Hermione protested. "You're babying me..."

"He has a point, Hermione. Be extra careful around Malfoy. Ignore him as much as you can. Don't even make eye contact. If anything like this happens again, he'll have the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team to answer to."

"And the chess club!" Ron added passionately.

The three friends stopped, stared at one another, and began to laugh.

"Oooh the chess club..." Hermione's voice trailed off...