Thank you silentemotions3 for your lone review! I shall continue. And I own nothing.
Chapter 2: Classes and Clashes
Hermione woke up the next morning with a killer headache and a sore right hand. She wondered why, then remembered that she had punched Malfoy yesterday.
Yawning, she got up from her bed and brushed her teeth with some difficulty, due to the bruises on her knuckles. Her punch must have been pretty hard. Hermione grinned maliciously to herself thinking of what Malfoy's face looked like. With toothpaste foaming her grinning lips, she looked somewhat like a rabid, psychotic monkey.
After she was done washing her face and dressing, she descended the stairs into the empty common room. The grandfather clock read 7 o'clock, which meant that there were still two hours to kill until her first class, Ancient Runes. Hermione decided to go to the classroom, grab a bite of breakfast, and read her favorite book, Hogwarts, a History. The 8:45 bell rang as she was munching a plain bagel while reading about the Forbidden Forest. There was an audible rumble as students began traipsing towards their respective classes, but none of the sounds were near the Ancient Runes classroom.
Hermione knew for a fact that only seven people were taking the N.E.W.T class, herself included, but she didn't know who else.
Professor Bathsheda Babbling, an elderly crabby old woman, waddled out of her office and broke into a wide smile at the sight of her favorite student.
"Miss Granger! How was your summer, dear?" Professor Babbling said in a grandmotherly sort of way.
Hermione smiled politely. "It was wonderful. How was yours, Professor? I heard that you were asked to go to Norway to interpret some newly-discovered hieroglyphics that the Ministry team couldn't even decode."
At this, Babbling began to reel off a tale about her travels, while Hermione simply nodded and exclaimed at all the appropriate places. Yes, she was a master at sucking up.
As the 9 o'clock bell sounded, the rest of her classmates filed in through the door. Lavender Brown (looking very tired indeed), Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, and Malfoy's little threesome. Hermione's eye twitched with annoyance, but she made sure to pay attention to Babbling's babbling.
True to her prediction, Malfoy had a large, delicate-looking purple blotch on the right side of his nose, which he tried to cover up by casually placing his hand on the side of his face. Hermione smirked inwardly and thought, Serves you right, ferret.
Professor Babbling immediately launched into a lecture after everyone was seated, and Hermione listened intently. Oh, how fun it was to learn! In her third year, Hermione was disappointed to learn that Hogwarts didn't offer language classes (Mermish or Gobbledegook would have been fascinating!), so she took Ancient Runes instead. She loved the feeling of extracting meaning out of the strange little symbols and learning stories and...ah, she was such a nerd, but it was worth it.
Malfoy had noticed the excited, eager expression on Hermione's face and he smirked.
"Good God Granger, don't wet yourself thinking of Babbling naked. You know she doesn't like you that way."
Hermione snapped her head in his direction, lips pursed, eyebrows knitted, and cheeks pink with rage. She at least expected him to behave properly during class. Did she have to put up with this every single minute they were within ten feet of each other?
"Look who's talking, rodent. The front of your pants looks like a tent," she retorted in a hissing whisper. It was a lie, but she thought it was clever enough.
"Tsk, tsk. Why are we looking there, Granger?" Malfoy grinned, showing off a set of animal-like white teeth. Clearly, this amused him to no ends.
She blinked several times. "Oh yes, Malfoy, your nonexistent penis arouses me oh-so-much. I feel like touching myself just by looking at your little campsite there." She turned back to the chalkboard.
She heard him snickering, quite loudly too. Professor Babbling stopped in her monologue and looked in his direction, frowning.
"Is there something you'd like to share with us, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked apprehensively.
"Yes, in fact I do, Professor Babbling, ma'am," Malfoy drawled. Again, Hermione turned around to stare at him. What the hell was he doing?
"Ma'am, I was just pleasantly surprised that Hermione Granger here pleasures herself sexually by thinking of me," he said loudly and innocently. Crabbe and Goyle began guffawing at the word "sexually" while Lavender Brown gaped at Hermione in a respectful awe-struck way.
Hermione's face burned with humiliation and anger as she blinked back furious tears. This was bullying on a whole new level. She would have never thought that even someone as slimy as Malfoy would say something so scandalous. Yes, she thought, she would have to say something back or else it would seem like it was true. Damn my sarcasm.
She raised her hand and chirped, "Professor, I think Draco is mistaken. In fact, he is the one who masturbates while thinking of me."
Babbling looked pale, faint, and shocked at the realization of how dirty her students' minds were and she nervously fiddled with the piece of chalk in her hands. Malfoy's face was a bit flushed, but he retained his composure otherwise. He opened his mouth to speak but the 10:30 bell rang at this precise moment, and Hermione victoriously stomped out the classroom with the last word.
As she walked towards her next class, Transfiguration, she increasingly regretted her outburst. She didn't know why she did it. Usually, she was very calm and collected in these matters, and always used the "ignore" strategy for dealing with bullies. But Malfoy...something about his unusually foul temper this year pissed her off undescribably. Malfoy would surely spread some twisted story where he emphasized his own witty remarks and Lavender Brown would shriek about how Hermione actually had a sexual orientation. Hermione's neck and back developed a thin layer of cold sweat as she thought of what Ron would say. He was, after all, in her next class.
She slowly and deliberately walked into the Transfiguration classroom, some people staring at her oddly, but Harry and Ron seemed normal enough.
"You know, Hermione, Quidditch trials are next week. You should come watch me and Harry!" Ron said excitedly. Hermione smiled thinly. Quidditch held no strong interest for her, and her best friends never got the hint after seven years.
Professor McGonagall was giving an introduction on human transfiguration when Hermione heard a dreadfully familiar snicker. She realized with a considerable degree of horror that Malfoy was also in N.E.W.T. Transfiguration, and that he was sitting behind her again. Determined, she stared defiantly ahead at the blackboard. He better not say anything stupid, or she might burst. Ron shifted uncomfortably beside her and focused his attention forward also.
Harry turned around and whispered defensively, "What's so funny, Malfoy?"
"I don't know, why don't you ask Weasley? He was the one trying to feel Granger up."
Needless to say, both Ron and Hermione turned beet red and solemnly faced the front as if their lives depended on it. She wanted him to move forward, but not that much! They haven't kissed, or even properly hugged for that matter.
"Miranda Goshawk!" Hermione squealed suddenly. McGonagall had chosen her to answer her question, which she almost forgot to do.
The rest of Transfiguration went similarly, with Hermione dazed and flustered. She felt light-headed as she headed down to lunch with Ron and Harry. I honestly don't think I learned anything today, she thought despairingly. Ron was extremely red, even for him, and he was exceedingly polite to everyone for some reason.
"Um, you guys go on. I need to use the bathroom," said Hermione weakly, and she darted into the nearest girls' loo on her right.
The face in the reflection looked alien to her; too red, too sheepish, too girlish. She quickly splashed some cold water over her cheeks and closed her eyes. Her first day of class was going horribly. It was all Malfoy's fault, too, the slimy Slytherin he was. A stall suddenly opened behind her, and she gave a start.
Pansy Parkinson stopped in her tracks when she saw Hermione and grinned impishly. She looked remarkably like a baboon's backside. "Granger, coming here to wank off?" she said, breaking into hysterics.
"Get out, you pug-faced bitch," Hermione breathed poisonously.
"Or what? You'll electrify me with your hair static?"
She would have slapped Pansy silly if she hadn't exited the bathroom when she did. Hermione leaned her head on the cold stone in the hallway leading to the Great Hall, analyzing what Pansy had said. If she knew, then she probably broadcasted Malfoy's version of the events to half the school already. Hermione knew from experience that Pansy's mouth was equatable to a microphone. She set off towards lunch at a brisk pace.
The hall was buzzing when she got there, but there wasn't much out of the ordinary. Malfoy and his crew were roaring with laughter about something Hermione had a sneaking suspicion she knew about. She found Ron and Harry and quickly camouflaged herself at the Gryffindor table by sitting in between Ron and Seamus Finnigan, scrunching her head as close as she could to her chest. There was an odd quietness surrounding her and it made her dread the worst.
"So, Hermione, what happened in Ancient Runes?" asked Seamus.
Hermione felt very hot suddenly, started fanning herself, and grabbed for corn bread with the other hand. "Whatever do you mean?"
No one said anything. Harry coughed in an attempt to break the silence, but his efforts were wasted. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil stared at her and Ron fidgeted with his sandwich. Hermione cursed the heavens for making her late to lunch, knowing that Lavender probably already told some tweaked version of the events to the table. She was almost as bad as Pansy. Suddenly, Ron opened his mouth to speak.
"I never knew you were so..." said Ron. He paused and finished with "Yeah." He cleared this throat and spoke again.
"And about Malfoy too. You know...you should have said something. You...you didn't have to lead me on."
"Ron!" cried Hermione incredulously. She couldn't believe this was happening. "What are you talking about? I - I was defending myself! Do you have any idea what nasty things he said? And...and I never...led you on!"
He looked coldly angry and refused to meet her eyes. "Lavender said what he said was true."
Hermione gaped at him, her mouth slightly open. "You trust her more than me?"
"Well, Hermione, you've been pretty fickle in the past. I wouldn't put Malfoy past you, if you could fancy McLaggen or Diggory or Krum..." he said flatly, mumbling off into nothingness. A low murmur passed through the audience, but of course no one stood up for Hermione. Almost everyone indefinitely preferred Ron over her in any situation whether it was reasonable to do so or not. Her heart felt like a block of lead weighing down her chest, heavy and slow.
"I have not," she cried. "You're always the immature one. Just because other boys notice me, and I sometimes notice them, doesn't mean I'm fickle. You know what youre problem is, Ron? You don't trust anyone. You think everyone's out to get you. You're too possessive and jealous, and we're not even together! You're too -"
"Hermione, I think you should stop," interrupted Harry quietly. She was outraged; even Harry was going against her, but she couldn't admit that she was surprised.
Dean Thomas looked uncomfortably from Ron to Hermione, then directed his gaze to Ron. "Come on Ron, you don't think that Hermione could really fancy Malfoy? He's a goddamn Slytherin, for Merlin's sakes. He hates Muggle-borns." A louder murmur broke out after this statement.
"You know, Draco Malfoy's rather good-looking, Slytherin or not," Lavender piped up. To Hermione's surprise, a few lower-year girls nodded in agreement and Parvati Patil blushed furiously. Hermione suddenly hated Lavender, more than before, for having the nerve to break what little Hermioned had with Ron and then make such a disgusting reference to Malfoy.
Now the heat left her body completely and all she could feel was a cold current running through her veins. She turned to look at Lavender, who looked back at her haughtily. Her eyes swiveled from Ron to Lavender and back several times before something clicked in her brain, and she suddenly had a strong desire to claw Lavender's eyes out. Anger came, and it made her cold blood turn boiling hot. Lavender was a complete whore and Ron was imbecilic enough to believe every single piece of shit he heard, everything except the truth. Anger made her eyes dry and heart hard and tongue sharp.
"Well, if Lavender said so, it must be true then! How silly of me to argue. You should go hook up with her again, Won - Won," said Hermione in her nastiest voice. "She is such a virginal angel compared to one so dirty as me."
With a sonorous clanking noise, she slammed her silverware on her plate and stuffed the remaining corn bread in her mouth. It tasted like paper. She gathered her books and stormed out of the cafeteria immediately, and only then did the tears come.
She cried silently all the way to the Gryffindor common room, where she collapsed on her bed in the empty dormitory. Ron was an idiot. She couldn't believe how easily he believed that slut. He always thought Hermione enjoyed toying with his heart, being a flirt, stringing him along. But it was far from the truth. He was the one sending mixed signals and being stupid and moody and getting angry.
Hermione lay prostrate on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, for what seemed like hours. Lavender never came back to the dorm, fortunately for her, since Hermione believed she could have sent canaries on her like she did to Ron the previous year. When she finally checked the time, lunch was over and she only had five minutes to get to Potions.
"Dammit..." she grumbled to herself.
She gathered the books that spilled out her bag and forced her heavy body to get off the bed. With a sense of dread, she remembered that Ron, Harry, Lavender, and Malfoy were all in N.E.W.T. Potions. She cursed again and sprinted out the Gryffindor common room toward the dungeons.
The hallways were thinning out with last-minute stragglers rushing to their classes, Hermione included. Her feet stopped past the dungeon doorway right as the bell sounded distantly. Severus Snape, who had been demoted back to potions master, looked as crabby and slimy as ever as he glared at Hermione and said the words she was expecting: "Ten points from Gryffindor for being late, Miss Granger."
"I wasn't late, Professor," she said, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.
"I don't believe you were in your seat, Miss Granger."
She sighed inwardly and searched for an inconspicuous seat. Apparently, they were sharing cauldrons today and of course there were no seats saved for her. Ron's limbs seemed purposely sprawled around his cauldron so as to appear there was no room for another except Harry. Parvati and Lavender glared at Hermione, challenging her to approach them. In fact, everyone had at least one partner except Malfoy, and she didn't want to even think about sitting next to him for an hour and a half.
Snape seemed to read her mind...which he probably was, the Legilimens jerk. He smirked and said, "I see that there aren't any empty chairs except for the one by Draco. Why don't you sit there today?"
The whole class began buzzing quietly as Hermione reluctantly sat herself in the hard wooden chair next to Malfoy. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn't complain to Snape in any other way. She felt like crying or throwing a fit. She barely paid attention when Snape silently wrote the instructions on the grimy blackboard. She didn't notice Malfoy watching her with a sideways glance, sneering.
"Granger! Snap out of it, Mudblood. I'm not failing my first Potions grade because of you." He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
"Shut up," said Hermione coldly, but returning from her trance. "I've had enough of your crap today without you bitching at me." Pushing her thoughts out of her mind, she speed-read the notes on the board, pulled out ingredients from her apothecary kit, and began grounding up a dragon tooth with furious speed.
"You're supposed to add the dried gillyweed first! I honestly have no idea why people think you're the most brilliant witch in the school." Malfoy suddenly snatched the mortar and pestle from Hermione with one hand and added the gillyweed into the cauldron of bubbling water. It turned a dark moss green color and began to give off copious amounts of yellow steam while emitting a rotting stench comparable to Goyle's breath. Hermione was a bit shocked, because Malfoy had been right. The gillyweed was supposed to go in right before the water started boiling. And it had been boiling for about two minutes now. Half the class stopped what it was doing and stared at the Malfoy-Granger cauldron that was giving off such pungent odors and lovely smoke.
"Well, I hope you're happy, Granger. The potion is complete screwed up," Malfoy said after observing the gurgling contents. He gave her his most contentious scowl and leaned back on his stool.
Ignoring this statement, Hermione adjusted the fire under the cauldron to make the temperature slightly lower. The potion slowly turned into a very pale blue color and stopped steaming, and she couldn't help but laugh with relief. Once the potion turned almost back to clear, she jabbed her wand at the fire, making it gradually hotter.
"Holy mother of Merlin," she heard Neville Longbottom whisper to his partner. "Should we ask her for help? Our potion looks like dragon dung."
Despite everything that had happened that day, Hermione couldn't help but smile a little. Knowing that she was the best student in the class gave her an immense satisfaction. She noticed that Ron's face was turning purple with concentration and Harry was frantically adding fresh gillyweed instead of the dried, which would undoubtedly turn the potion into a poison. Of course they were struggling without her "assistance," in other words Hermione doing all the work.
"Little know-it-all," Malfoy said under his breath. Hermione always took that title as a compliment, and she was still smiling to herself when she added a pint of bubotuber pus.