Chapter 3:

Stick Downs and Pointless Debates

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It really wasn't fair. Everything had been perfect. Neville was in position, Ginny was being quiet, and Hermione was prowling the hallway watching and waiting for Blaise Zabini.

If only she had remembered that the day was Tuesday…

Everyone knew- well…everyone who stalked Zabini, that is- that Slytherins had Transfiguration on Tuesdays at that particular time, and that Zabini blew off steam by ducking down to the dungeons…accompanied by Draco Malfoy.

Hermione had hidden in the Shadows ready to signal Neville the minute she spotted the infamous Zabini. But, sadly she forgot to calculate into the equation, the friendship between Subject A and other, namely Zabini and Malfoy respectively. The meeting had, for lack of better words, exploded into chaos.

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Flashback

Glancing around Hermione hurriedly pulled a parchment from her robes. Whispering the proper words she scoured the "borrowed" map for any trace of Zabini. An unchecked laugh bubbled out of her when she spotted his name in the loopy font. Sadly, this euphoria was brought to a gruesome end when she noticed another name right alongside of her target's. 'Draco bloody Malfoy…'

Growling she wondered whether or not to proceed with the plan. 'To act, or not to act…that is the question.' After deciding that using a massacred line from Shakespeare probably wouldn't help the current situation, Hermione thought once more.

'Ah. What the hell. Worst situation…I annoy the bloody daylights out of that prat.'

Seeing they were near, Hermione signaled Neville and the game had begun.

"McGonagall had the nerve to scold me for being 'excessively loud'. Can you believe that old-"

Cue the awkward silence. But, of course the abnormality of the situation did call for some sort of recognition.

The scene was set as such: Neville, getting really into his character, was standing over Hermione, who looked like the perfect example of a damsel in distress. Meanwhile a few feet away stood Draco Malfoy, struck speechless at the sight of an unknown idiot wearing what resembled a muggle ski mask, and lastly Blaise Zabini, focused on the girl on the floor, an unknown gleam in his eyes.

Neville coughed uncomfortably- he really didn't want to do this but…oh well, might as well have some fun.

Cough. "Um…This-this is a stick down. Give me all your-" Cough. "All your stuff. Yeah."

Malfoy smirked- he watched the contraption called the television, so of course he knew the right saying.

"Idiot. It's 'This is a stick up. Give me all your money.' Really, amateur…"

"Hey! I'm under a lot of pressure right now. Just you try to wear this blasted thing!"

Hermione cracked one eye open from her position on the floor. Sighing discouragingly, she got up and joined Zabini by the window. Together they watched the shouting match between the other two, the subject still revolving around who could rob better.

Snorting in derision, Zabini straightened.

"Draco, I'm leaving. Finish your debate if you wish."

Draco pouted like a little boy just denied an ice cream cone during the month of August. Glaring spitefully at his 'opponent' he pivoted while muttering "I shall return."

Hermione frowned. 'Well, that was a waste.' Ignoring Neville's attempts to tear the confining mask off of his head, Hermione turned swiftly and hurried back to her dorm.

Obviously she would have to prepare more.

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