Chapter 4. "I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar."

Ginny Weasley was not happy. She wanted it to change, and when she said 'change,' by golly, it had better change. She wasn't put in to bullheaded Gryffindor for nothing, was she? Her attempts at speaking to Harry had failed spectacularly, and Lavender Brown and the Patil twins still weren't speaking to her since Seamus had asked her out to last year's ball and not them. The others were useless, so she had finally made up her mind. She was going to speak to Dumbledore – support or no support from her peers...and at this point, it seemed like the latter. The sixth years were perfectly content just sitting by and letting the seventh years have all the fun. All but one. And this one was marching through the corridors to the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office.

Her chin was held high, and her shoulders were back and down as she reached the main floor. Ginny was rehearsing her argument for sixth-year participation in her head when she passed the library door and nearly missed running into a fast-moving Professor Snape. On any other day, she would have been mortified to be in this position, but, filled with righteous indignation, she merely muttered an apology and brushed past him. And on any other day, Professor Snape would have given her a detention and deducted twenty points from Gryffindor. However, this was not a normal day for him, and so he merely called a "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley" from over his shoulder as he continued on his way. Ginny would have responded, but she had just then nearly missed running into a fast-moving Hermione Granger, who was bringing up the rear in the Potions master's wake.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione said, stopping just short of her friend.

"Hi Hermione, can't talk now. I'm on a mission...see you at dinner." The bushy-haired girl stood dumbfounded for a moment, wondering what Ginny's mission could be.

"Miss Granger, do you intend to stand there telepathically conversing with the wall, or will you hurry up?"

She muttered an apology, mentally shaking herself. She slipped her hand into her pocket, fingering the slip of paper she had used earlier that morning, and ran to catch up with the Professor's lengthy strides. Hermione had just finished her meeting with Professor Snape, and it had gone relatively well...or at least as good as any meeting with the Potions master could be. She mentally reviewed, going over their dialogue.

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"I believe, Miss Granger, that we had an appointment in the library?"

"That we do, sir," she said, just as he turned on his heel and swept down the corridor. She glanced at Harry, trying her best to convey a look of pity before shrugging. "Excuse me, Harry. I have to go." Hermione sped down the hall, trying to catch up with her professor.

They walked in silence the entire way to the library. The massive oak doors swung open violently as Snape pushed them open, and Hermione cringed as they battered into railings and tables, creating an echo that didn't end for at least fifteen seconds. As soon as she had cleared the threshold, the Potions master spun on his heel, startling her, as she had almost walked into him. "Very well, Miss Genius," he said, enunciating 'genius' into an insult. "What is it that you feel is so crucial you speak with me, interrupting my day, wasting my time?" He scowled down at her as she hastily gave him back his personal space.

Hermione took a deep breath, summoning all the courage she had brought forth into writing the letter to him. "Well, sir, since we have been chosen to work together, I though that I might inform you of some ideas I had that might aid us in –"

She was cut off with an extended hand from the professor. "Continue speaking with 50 percent less words."

She gave him an indignant glare, but continued. "What I mean is, I have a shopping list, and that you need to accompany me to Muggle London if I'm to get these things." The professor gave a small noise of mental pain and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. Hermione didn't like the reaction he was having, though she expected nothing less, and hurried into an explanation. "I mean, we won't be staying out long, and there isn't too much to buy. I plan to purchase most of the items, although it would be helpful if you chipped in with a few dozen Galleons or so..."

Severus gave another grunt (or was it a moan?), thereby silencing her rambling. After an unbearable moment of silence, he broke the tension. "Am I to understand, that you want me to escort you while you take a shopping spree? In case you haven't heard, I don't shop, and I most certainly do NOT baby-sit spend-happy, know-it-all, show-off, GRYFFINDORS," he hissed venomously in her face. "Especially in Muggle towns."

Hermione could feel tears prickling the backs of her eyes, but she willed them away, and looked him back in the eye evenly. Forcing the tremor out of her voice, she replied as calmly as she could, "I didn't want to be picked for this race, sir, as I'm sure you didn't either. But we're stuck now, we have to do this. And there's nothing I do half-heartedly. If I'm forced into a race I didn't want to enter, then I'm going to make damn sure I win it...and I need your help if we're going to succeed. These items I've listed will help us along the way, Muggle though they be. With all due respect, if you have a problem with using Muggle technology and resources, then I suggest you get over it, sir...because it's part of the few strategies I've come up with." Severus drew up to his full height, and his shoulders squared as he glared down at her. But she was on a roll now, and stampeding elephants wouldn't be able to keep her quiet...she was going to say her piece and pay the price later. "Now I'm not implying that you hold my hand and walk me through town, I'm just pointing out the fact that no student is allowed outside the school grounds and Hogsmeade unless accompanied by an adult. You're my partner in this race, so it's logical that you would come with me in order for you to be familiarized with Muggle life and tools, considering we'll be spending the better half of the summer living with them. That is all I'm asking, sir." She met his glare defiantly, and didn't flinch when he smirked.

The evil grin on his face should've been enough to send her fleeing in terror, but to Snape's astonishment (and annoyance), she remained cool, and didn't step down. "Five points from Gryffindor for profanity, Miss Granger. You must learn to watch your language." Hermione's lips tightened, but she refused to back down. 'How dare she?' he thought angrily, while contemplating her through his smirk. 'How dare she defy me? How dare she explain her reasoning so faultlessly and irrefutably? And so seemingly effortlessly?' his mind added bitterly. 'I must be losing my touch...too many nights of Old Ogden's, it seems.' She was still there, staring back at him. Severus' frown grew stronger. "Well!" he shouted, making her jump.

"Well, what, sir?" The audacity of this girl was getting on his nerves...she was overstepping her boundaries.

"Another five points for cheek, Miss Granger. Well, are you planning on changing? For surely you aren't planning on visiting London in those." He exaggerated the word 'those' as he waved his hand up and down, gesturing to her attire. Severus smirked as she looked down at herself. "Be in the Entrance Hall by nine o'clock and no later. I will not tolerate tardiness."

Hermione nodded. "Yes sir."

"And for godsake, child, do something with your hair...we don't want to scare the Muggles off." Before she could get a word in edgewise, or even glare at him, he had swept past her and out of the library. She thought she caught the corners of his mouth upturned slightly before he shielded his face from her view and barged out of the library.

"Excuse me, Professor," she heard a voice mumble. Hermione quickly walked to the door.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley," the unmistakable voice of the Potions master said. She stopped, just in time before colliding with a grim-faced Ginny.

"Hello, Ginny," she said.

"Hi, Hermione, can't talk now...I'm on a mission. See you at dinner." The red head stormed off down the corridor. 'Mission? What about?' Hermione wondered.

"Miss Granger, do you intend to stand there telepathically conversing with the wall, or will you hurry up?" Mentally shaking herself, she muttered an apology and ran to catch up. "Nine, Miss Granger. Do not be late." She smiled to herself. So she had finally one-upped the surely, snarky Snape...though she did get a verbal beating for it. Somehow, it was worth it. Albeit, it was unfortunate that Harry or Ron wasn't here to see it.

"Yes, sir," she replied, and branched off in route of Gryffindor Tower.

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"Ooh! What is it! What is the freaking password!" Ginny stomped around in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. "You're not going to open up until I've lost my nerve, aren't you?" she said to the statue. As a response, the sculpture moved aside and revealed a spiraling marble staircase. "Well it's about time!" she exclaimed, stepping onto the stairs. She was so determined that she didn't even notice that the steps began to move up of their own accord. Ginny stepped boldly into the Headmaster's office and spotted him behind the large oak desk.

"Come in, Miss Weasley, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked, motioning her to a chair. Ginny sat down and politely refused his offer of a lemon drop.

"Professor, I've come on behalf of the sixth year students to tell you that we are very upset that you won't let any of us participate in the race." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he leaned back in his chair and regarded her through his half-moon spectacles and over laced fingers.

"Hmm. I was not aware of any disquiet among the sixth form, please enlighten me to this overlooked detail." Ginny's palms were sweating, but she recalled her rehearsed lines and spewed them forth as fast as she could.

"We feel that this is segregating the seventh years from the rest of the lower forms, and that it is high time that we are given our due opportunities to prove what we are capable of. Furthermore, if we have our parent's permission, we are not a liability to the school and therefore cannot be sue...suing...or something like that. This is a great opportunity for us, and it cannot be denied us. You aren't a yearist, one who has a prejudice against students of other years-" Dumbledore gave a chuckle upon hearing her new word. "-So don't embrace yearism! Sixth years have rights too!" she finished, taking a large breath after her outburst, and waited for a reply from the Headmaster. He was still regarding her through his glasses and over entwined fingers, but his eyes had taken on a new dimension of sparkle.

"Miss Weasley, I'm afraid the teams cannot be changed, nor can I add more teams to the list...I'll have enough trouble keeping track of four. So I'm afraid no sixth years will be able to join the competition." Ginny's face wilted, and she started to rise from her chair. "I believe, however," he continued, compelling her to sit down again. "That I told the school that there would be regular updates and articles about how the teams are progressing, did I not?" She nodded warily. "Ah, I had thought so. I must say that it will be quite challenging to retrieve such information regularly with no one monitoring the teams. Now if I'm not mistaken, you are quite an exceptional writer. Would I be 'non-yearist' if I offered the position of reporter to you?"

"Oh, certainly, sir!" she cried happily. Dumbledore nodded.

"Well then, that's settled. You must pick which team you would like to travel with. Be sure that you are only there to observe, and not to interfere with their race." Ginny thought for a moment. She was friends enough with Neville, but since he was partnered with Malfoy, she didn't hesitate in passing them up. She didn't know Professor Hagrid that well, nor did she enjoy Divination with Professor Trelawney. There was also Harry and Professor Hooch. She could always go and be a comforter to Hermione, who was partnered with the horrible Bat of the Dungeons. So it was narrowed down between her best friend, and her crush. She didn't particularly want to spend her summer with the greasy Potions master either...even if it meant being with her friend. So she came to her conclusion.

"Harry's team, sir. I'd like to go with him." Dumbledore nodded knowingly.

"Very well, I will inform them of the arrangements. I will expect weekly owls from you regarding their predicament and what they're doing. Is that clear?"

"Oh yes, sir! I'll use Ron's owl, Pig."

"Good. Well, that seems to have cleared that up! How about some tea?"

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Author's notes: Whee! Another chapter! I must confess that although I have some ideas and some scenes sketched out in my head, I'm making this up as I go.