Disclaimer : No, don't own HP verse.
Summary : It's the Fifth Year. Harry is super angsty. Ron's Confidence meter is at negative twenty. Hermione gets anonymous er..love notes. Malfoy is super, super whiny. And everyone is paranoid!
A/N : warning: this is a totally insane story!
Chapter Two : Grease, Shampoo and a Kiss
After Monday night's histrionics in the library, Hermione didn't expect the next day to be perfect, or even normal. And she was right, it wasn't even remotely normal – neither for her nor for the Fifth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins present that day in the first lesson of the morning, Double Potions.
Well it started out normally, what with the dungeon doors closing behind them with an ominous bang; Snape swooshing into the room, with his robes billowing, again, ominously behind him; Snape glaring at each student for exactly one minute, fifteen seconds and thirty-five milliseconds, creating that perfectly ominous atmosphere in the room; Neville dropping his brand new cauldron, as his hands shook with nervousness due to all that, er, ominousness; Snape barking at them to start preparing whatever the damn potion he had discussed with them the other day and that he ardently hoped, for their sakes, that 'some of you dim-witted trolls do actually manage to brew the potion correctly so that the precious minutes I had spent to try and educate you do not go down the drain that leads to the sewer--where currently your brains are rotting;' everyone scurrying to the store cupboard to get the lacewings, boar teeth, toad guts, some nice, fresh, yellow pus, tomato, peas, cockroach antennae, and may be even Centaur shit and what not; Neville tripping on his way back to his desk so that he dents his brand new spare cauldron by squashing it; Hermione feverishly cutting up her ingredients to prove that her brain was not stewing with the refuge; Harry musing, as he chopped liver into slivers, about how Cho didn't manage to shrivel up due to the vast amounts of water she shed as tears every time he saw her, about how Ginny said that his feet were too big, about how Voldemort would look in pink dress robes and a bow on top his bald head, about how to goad Ron into not resigning from the team (maybe he'd tell him that Hermione would hook up with him if he stayed on and performed well in the next match, such as saving a goal or two—hey, no pressure), about how to escape from Hermione once she found out about the deal, about how he should order those special illusion shoes that'd make his feet look smaller, about how he should tell Cho to get a life, and that if the space beneath his bed was a good hiding space and if Hermione knew how to do the Cruciatus curse; Ron growing purple in the face as he tried to remember what exactly Snape had been hollering about yesterday; Draco surreptitiously reading Wizards' Quarterly under the table, lifting his head every now and then to lecture Pansy on the correct way to skin the Shrivelfig bulb, to which she muttered darkly about how she'd like to skin, slice and quarter something that wasn't the Shrivelfig at all, that Draco pretended not to hear, though he scooted away from Pansy's knife and blanched a little….
Well, you know-- normal stuff that happened in the dungeons everyday. But yet today was a bit different as Ronald Weasley did not badger Hermione Granger to tell him how to brew whatever potion it was that they were supposed to be brewing. Nope, not even a desperate plea to help him, so that he wouldn't fail the assignment and Snape wouldn't Avada his arse.
Ron, still smarting from her rather unfortunate assessment of his Quidditch prowess, refused to acknowledge her presence in the room, let alone speak to her. He seemed to have adopted the strategy that treating her like she didn't exist in his world would force her to finally apologize to him and even (this was his favorite fantasy after the one where Fleur Delacour professes her undying love to him and feeds him grapes and ruffles his hair and …er the rest of Ron's musings cannot be included here, unless I change the rating of this fic) tell him that he was not only the best Quidditch player at school but also the bestest-est freakin' Keeper in the world, better than that smarmy Tornadoes' Keeper.
So, he treated her like she was invisible, sure that she'd crack at any moment. Only this 'invisible air' wasn't that invincible as he liked to pretend. It constantly prodded him, pinched him (very hard) at most inappropriate moments and bared its fangs--teeth-- at him. Nope, this 'invincible air' didn't like to be treated invincible at all. But alas, Ron may not be a lot of things (like terribly smart or perceptive as 'Her-She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Acknowledged'), but he certainly was very stubborn ('and also devastatingly handsome- don't forget that!').
Hermione, thus, was now in a very foul mood. All her attempts at making Ron talk to her had proved futile. She certainly wasn't going to apologize to the git unless he apologized first for insulting her books and the hallowed library. But his ignoring her was driving her crazy. She was sorely tempted to hex him, or push him into his cauldron, as it bubbled merrily beside him. But better sense prevailed and she desisted from doing so. Besides, there was the fact that the Potions' classroom was filled with witnesses and that meant she'd go straight to Azkaban without taking the OWLs! Oh, the horror!
So she gave a final, painful, nudge to his ribs with her elbow and turned around to her own cauldron, even as Ron tried to stifle the groan of pain and felt his bruised chest gingerly. May be this wasn't such a good strategy after all, Ron thought glumly and wondered if his pride was worth the physical abuse he was suffering, as he stirred in Newt eyes into his potion. Just then, he felt a couple of Newt eyes bounce off his forehead. He looked up, his eyes searching through the fumes wafting about in the dungeon. And he found the culprit on the Slytherin side of the classroom waving merrily at him.
Malfoy sneered at him with his pale pointy git face, his other hand holding a jar of Newt eyes. Even as Ron narrowed his eyes at him and sent him a death glare, Malfoy's lips tipped in a smug smirk and mouthed something to him. Ron's brows furrowed to discern what it was. Malfoy was gesturing wildly at him and making something like a crown on top of his head with his hands. Ron scowled fiercely at the blond git as he and his fellow Slytherins sniggered behind their hands. Ron's face steadily grew hot as he stared resolutely into his cauldron. He felt a hand on his arm and looked up slowly. It was Hermione. She gave him a small sympathetic smile. He shrank back in alarm, his arms shielding his ribcage. She rolled her eyes at him. She bent towards him and whispered:
"Its okay Ronald," she patted his arm. "Don't let those nasty idiots get to you."
Then she did the unthinkable. She stood on tip toes and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Ron's cheek grew flaming hot, and he goggled at her as she again turned back to her potion.
Across the room Malfoy blinked his eyes stupidly, not comprehending what he had just witnessed. His brain was screaming – Granger kissed. Granger kissed Weasel. Granger kissed Weasel!
He made a retching noise and bent to throw up in the neighboring cauldron – Goyle's. But no one seemed to pay any attention to him as just at that moment a loud explosion echoed through the dungeon. Draco stood up in shock, apparently forgetting all about his nausea. The front of the classroom was engulfed in a thick, green smoke. He tried to peer through the curtain of smoke.
A jumble of noises were coming from its midst. Someone emitted a high pitched squeal, then a loud thump, a shout, a gasp and cutting through it all was the silky voice of the Potions' master as he hissed, "Stay where you are. Idiot boy!"
The class moved forward cautiously. Draco, who was regrettably on the shorter side ('perfectly normal height range for healthy, growing fifteen year old boys, who hadn't yet, experienced the growth spurt,you sniggering piece of shit!'), couldn't see past the trollish Goyle in front of him. He took a careful step forward around the cauldrons and brought a highly polished patent dragon hide boot clad foot onto the unfortunate that one of Goyle's. Goyle yelped loudly like a girl and hopped around on his other foot, as Draco watched in smug satisfaction. He turned his attention to the front of the class, his view now unobstructed.
Snape had somehow managed to clear the smoke and he was now looming over a green goop covered Longbottom. With his greasy hair curtaining his face, he glared venomously at the frightened boy, who looked like green jelly with the way he was shaking under his professor's gaze.
Draco smirked; this was going to be good. This was the usual 'Snape's 101 Ways To Make Long Butt Bawl For His Grammy' show – worth his every knut. It was at moments like this that Draco was extremely glad that Snape was the Head of his House – he provided good entertainment for his wards via the bullying of ninnies of other Houses, also he himself was safe from similar fate at the greasy git's hands. He sat back on the bench beside Goyle, who was still cradling his foot and moaning piteously, to enjoy the show; Pansy, apparently thinking along the same lines, came to sit beside him.
Hermione watched worriedly as Snape towered over poor Neville, looking like a large batty vampire who had cornered its prey to sink its fangs in. Neville, who was covered from head to foot in his disastrous potion, whimpered and shrank back, the remnants of his cauldron strewn beside him.
"So," Snape began in a low whisper. Neville quaked.
"So," he said and paused again, obviously enjoying the effect on the poor boy. Neville was shaking so much, Hermione observed dully, that it seemed he was set on 'vibrate'.
"You think you're so clever", he spat pointing a rather fleshy finger at him, "that you're so perfect at the art of potion making that you have no need for instructions or precautions that I asked you to follow!"
Neville let out a meep. Draco and the rest of the Slytherins bent forward eagerly, while the Gryffindors cringed and grimaced as Snape's tone steadily became icier; like the git had swallowed up the entire Arctic.
"Tell me, boy!" he hissed, it was clear that he was immensely enjoying himself berating the lumpy Gryffindor, an almost vindictive glee lurking behind his eyes, "does anything ever go past that thick skull of yours? Or are you simply immune to all the knowledge that this school tries to impart to worthless beings like you?"
Hermione stood fuming, her hands itching to throw her own potion on the oily-never-washed-in-decades-hair. Alright, maybe not her perfectly brewed potion - as throwing that would be a real shame and not to mention monumental waste of her effort. But she definitely wanted to throw something at him like- like Ron's potion - hey! He was going to get a 'P' anyway for his potion, as he hadn't stirred it three and a half turns in the clockwise direction after adding Hollygrass essence, so it wasn't like it would be a big loss…- Hermione was torn from her musings as Snape continued his verbal assault.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Longbottom. I can only hope for your sake and mine that you'd fail your OWL, like I expect you to, and then I'll be rid of you forever," he said. Then his cool, fathomless eyes moved onto his next prey – Potter.
Draco sat up straight, his grey eyes shining in anticipation – this was a way better pastime than reading about the latest robes' cuts and colors of the season in WQ.
"And you Potter," Snape's voice going dangerously low as his eyes took on a murderous gleam. "What were you doing when Longbottom was resolutely ruining his potion?"
Draco felt the temperature in the room rise up a few notches as Potter glared intensely at the Potion's master.
"Why didn't you warn him?" Snape continued seemingly unaffected by the death glare directed at him. "Perhaps you thought it'd be funny for him to blow up his potion? Hmm?" Snape leered at him showing his yellowed teeth.
Draco involuntarily recoiled back a little at the look on Potter's face, vaguely understanding why the Dark Lord considered the Scar Head to be his equal and nemesis.
Hermione and Ron recognized the look on Harry's face and looked at each other worriedly.
"So I think", Snape continued unperturbed by the daggers Harry glared at him, "I'll have to punish you for not helping your fellow student, which resulted in him making a fool of himself." Snape smirked. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter."
Hermione and Ron said "Uh-oh", at the same moment as Harry stood up and stamped his foot on the cold dungeon floor.
"No you won't!"
Snape who had turned to move back to his desk, snapped back to face him, his hair swinging around his sallow face.
"What? What did you say? " he hissed looking at him in surprise.
"Yes – what?!" Malfoy repeated, not believing his ears.
The class became deadly silent as obsidian eyes bore into emerald ones. Neville stifled a sniffle.
"No, you won't take points from me, sir," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"Potter! Shut up! If you don't want to end up in de-"
"NO I WON'T SHUT UP! YOU CAN'T GIVE ME DETENTION!"
Most of the class, except Hermione and Ron, jumped in shock having never been at the receiving end of Harry's full vocal power, while the said two just rolled their eyes and sighed.
"Potter-" Snape began angrily, having recovered from his momentary loss of speech.
"THAT'S NOT FAIR! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS PICK ON ME? WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU?"
Snape looked gob smacked. Malfoy fell off the bench.
"HOW THE FREAKING HELL SHOULD I KNOW HOW NEVILLE SCREWED UP HIS POTION - AGAIN? HOW THE HELL IS IT MY FAULT?! MAYBE YOU SHOULD PAY MORE ATTENTION TO HIM INSTEAD OF BILLOWING ABOUT LIKE AN OVER GROWN BAT TO TORTURE THE REST OF US"
The whole class gasped as one, while the Gryffindors silently cheered Harry on. The Slytherins almost looked cowed. Malfoy continued to stare at him wide eyed from the floor.
"YOU ARE THE MOST BIASED TEACHER I'VE SEEN AT HOGWARTS! GROW UP BUDDY, COZ THE WAY YOU KEEP FAVOURING YOUR STUPID HOUSE AT EVERY TURN ISNT MATURE IN THE LEAST! AND WHILE ON THE SUBJECT OF PREJUDICES- WHAT'S WITH YOU HATING ME? I MEAN, FROM THE FIRST DAY I STEPPED FOOT HERE! IF YOU HAD A PROBLEM WITH MY DAD, WHY TAKE IT OUT ON ME?! ITS NOT LIKE I TOOK OFF YOUR KNICKERS AND SUSPENDED YOU UPSIDE DOWN IN PUBLIC!"
Snape turned crimson and made a gurgling sound like his voice box had just shut down, his eyes drawn horrifyingly wide. The class glanced at him to confirm if it was true then quickly bit the inside of their cheeks to stop from smiling. Harry took a gratifying breath and continued, now that he was in full flow he actually was quite enjoying himself and noted with satisfaction as his audience held their breaths as he opened his mouth.
"AND WHAT IS WITH YOUR OBSESSION WITH THESE STUPID DUNGEONS?!" Harry gestured broadly around the room, Snape, who anyway was frozen in shock with his mouth hanging open and it was doubtful that he could even comprehend what was now going around him, "THEY ARE SO COLD, DARK AND DRAUGHTY- IT'S FREEZING IN HERE! HOW WILL I BE ABLE TO FACE AND DEFEAT THAT SNAKE FACED VOLDEMORT IF I GET PNEUMONIA OR SOMETHING? HMM?"
(…Er..okay, maybe Harry was getting a bit carried away here..)
The class gasped again at hearing the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Snape even seemed to come out of his shocked reverie.
"AND…UM….OOH!- WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH YOUR HAIR? IT IS SO REVOLTINGLY GREASY, LIKE, ALL THE TIME! HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF OIL-CONTROL SHAMPOO? DO YOU EVEN SHAMPOO? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT SHAMPOOING IS? I MEAN, SERIOUSLY DUDE, GREASE LITERALLY DRIPS FROM YOUR HAIR! LIKE, YOU KNOW, REALLY GREASY LIKE TURKEY GREA-"
"THAT'S ENOUGH POTTER!" Snape shrieked, having recovered finally. "You- you- you!-"
He stuttered, struggling to get a grip on himself and visibly controlling himself from strangling Harry's neck. He took a deep shuddering breath, then another two, as he continually flexed his fingers. He closed his eyes briefly then snapped them open glaring at the bespeckled image before him with renewed loathing.
"One thousand points from Gryffindor!"
There were some muttered protests across the room.
"Silence!" he barked. "And you Potter!" he said in a venomous whisper, "detention every night until the end of your year!"With that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the classroom.
The shocked silence left in his wake was immediately shattered as everyone started talking at once. In all the din, the Gryffindors rushed forwards and patted Harry's back, cheering and yelling high-fives at each other, while the Slytherins hung back and muttered among themselves.
Draco finally picked himself up from the floor and dazedly sat back on the bench, where even Goyle had forgotten all about his foot and was ogling at the doors through which their Head of House had exited. Draco looked around at Pansy and found her staring intently at the Gryffindors; he was surprised to realize that she seemed to be giving an appraising eye to the Pot Head. He shook his head; surely he was mistaken. He roughly shook her by the shoulder, thereby finally drawing her attention to him.
"What is it Draco?" she asked him with a small sigh, like he was a rather bothersome two year old. He huffed.
"What is it? WHAT is it?! Did you not see what just happened?!" he cried almost hysterically.
"Yes, Draco. I did see what just happened," she replied patiently.
"So?!"
She raised her brows at him.
"Merlin, woman! That is your cue to say that Potty has finally cracked and would be soon shipped off to St. Mungo's !" he said exasperated.
"Hmm..yeah" she said glancing at Potter again.
"So say it!"
Pansy rolled her eyes at her petulant friend and said, "Potter has finally cracked and will be sent to St .Mungo's. There, happy?"
Draco sniffed.
"I always knew he was a crack-pot! After all, that curse must have addled some part of his brain! Stupid nut-case," he muttered clutching at his ears. "I bet he doesn't even need a killing curse to zap You-Know-Who! All Potter has to do is yell at him and he'd shrivel up and die from that horrible, unbearable voice!"
Pansy, who had gone back to staring at that ugly conceited Gryffindork again, waved her hand listlessly at him. Draco huffed, and poked her sharply in the shoulder.
"Ow!" she turned abruptly to him. He smirked. Then sighed a long suffering sigh.
"I swear Pans, I think I've gone partly deaf! Do you think that oaf's yelling has caused some permanent damage to my ears?" he asked putting on an appropriately worried look. "Do you think I should go and let Madam Pomfrey check them?"
Pansy resisted in rolling her eyes again at him, "I think that may be a good idea. Why don't you go now, or else you'll miss your next class?"
"Good, then," he said standing up and beaming. "Come along then, Pans," he said dragging her up from the bench.
"But Draco, my ears are perfectly fine!" she protested weakly, trying to get out of his grip.
"I know Pans," he sighed dramatically again. "We are going for the sake of my precious ears. Now, come along, hurry!" he whined, as he pulled her by the hand towards the exit. He paused on the way to give an especially nasty glare to the Weasel; he and the Bushy Haired One were still standing at their desk and had not rushed, unlike the rest of the Gryffindumbs, to kiss Potter's arse. The duo seemed to be shaking their heads resignedly at the Boy Who Screeched.
Upon noticing Draco, Granger had placed her hand on Weasel's arm, apparently to restrain him from retaliating to Big Bad Dwaco's taunts. Ha! As if the baboon had any other ways of retaliating to his very, very witty remarks than resorting to crude violence.
"Oh, look Weasel-King, Granger's come to your rescue!" he drawled. "Aw, ain't that cute?", he said looking at Hermione's hand, "you two are so touchy-feely and stuff, I can almost feel the bile in my mouth!"
Ron withdrew his arm from Hermione as though it had burnt and blushed furiously. Hermione folded her arms across her chest. Draco smirked as those brown eyes narrowed at him and the pink lips pursed, daring him to provoke. And he noted, not for the first time, how adorable her face looked with her button nose slightly scrunched, the smattering of freckles on it; her cheeks like ripe peaches; and those eyes, those eyes were like warm pools and they seemed to be melting something inside him – oh, he just loved how cute Granger looked when she was angry!
Wait! Did he just think 'Granger', 'cute' and the 'L' word in the same sentence? Draco stumbled backwards in shock. Panicking now, and reasoning that Potter's screaming may indeed have effected his brain cells via his hearing canal, he shot a last horrified glance at them and hurried out of the doors into the corridor, dragging Pansy behind him.
Raising her eyebrows at the retreating blond and his bit – ahem, his so-called female accomplice, Hermione wondered idly how anyone could put up with the Ferret for more than five minutes and thought that in that aspect PPFP (Pansy 'Pug Face' Parkinson - well, duh!) definitely deserved an award of sorts, as anyone who could put up with Malfoy's sarcastic barbs, and not to mention his whining, day in and day out definitely had super human patience or were completely deaf. She turned to look at Ron and noticed him staring at his arm as though little tentacles were erupting from the skin. He was still rather red and refused to look up at her. She shrugged and marched to the center of the class to drag Harry away from his group of admirers; the next class was about to start.
OoOoOoO
A/N: this chap was getting way too long so i had to chop it off...so, sorry if it seems abrupt. and for Dramione shippers, don't worry, the romance will come! :)
I just love the way Harry hollers! (don't you?!) so, I couldn't resist including His Royal Capitalness' capitals again!!
I guess, i started writing this fic coz i suffered a bout of 'March Madness' or something! :D
And again thnx a bunch AK!
R & R folks!