Hyaci here! I hope you guys like this chapter! It's not as good as it could be, but I'm trying to update as quickly as possible. I'll probably edit it or completely rewrite it later, so don't be surprised if you find changes later!

Chapter 4:Rock Cakes and Tea

Hermione was sitting primly at her desk, a large transfiguration textbook open before her. Her eyes were glued on Professor McGonagall, and she listened in rapture to the lecture, afraid she might miss something of utter importance that could jeopardize her chances of turning the matchstick in her hand into a needle- their current assignment.

Earlier, the entire class had watched openmouthed as Professor McGonagall had transformed her desk- grade book and all- into a pig. Everyone had wanted to start transfiguring things right away. That incomprehensively stupid Gryffindor boy- Ron wasn't it? - Actually tried to wave his wand and repeat the incantation. She had to admit it was funny when the spell backfired and caused an explosion instead. It was even funnier when he received detention for not paying attention.

Once he'd been shipped off to the hospital wing to assess the damage done, professor McGonagall began a lengthy discussion about the theory behind transfiguration. While all the students politely listened, Hermione felt that only she and a few other Ravenclaws actually managed to learn from the theory. The rest of the students were eager to try it hands on, even after Ron's explosive display.

When they finally got to the actual transfiguration, many of the students found it disappointing that they had to start with turning a matchstick into a needle- until it turned out that none of the students had made a difference to their matches on the first try. At the end of class, Hermione swelled with pride when McGonagall praised her in front of the class for making her match shiny and sharp. Although this caused a few of the Gryffindors to shake their heads and call her a know-it-all (including Ron, who returned to class while McGonagall was complimenting her transfiguration), the Ravenclaws were even friendlier to her after that. She assumed they had accepted her due to her precociousness.

The next class was one that she shared with Harry- DADA. Although she'd looked forward to the class itself, Hermione was much more interested in maintaining her friendship with the Boy Who Lived. If she did, she could perhaps establish friendly relations with his fellow Slytherins. When she arrived at the classroom, she caught his eye, and made a point of sitting next to him, in the front of the class.

Quirrell turned out to be a fairly incompetent teacher, so rather than listening to him stuttering about his unbelievable defeat of a vampire, she instead chose to pass the time by solidifying her bond with Harry. She chose a rather inelegant way of doing so- passing notes.

Isn't the class boring?

Harry read the note with an inscrutable expression, then began scrawling something on it, before passing it back to her.

It's sort of a letdown.

Hermione sniffed as she read this, and then something struck her. She quickly wrote something on the piece of parchment before handing it back to Harry.

Do you smell something?

She noticed that Harry began to sniff the air, wrinkled his nose, and began to scribble on the note.

Garlic. Definitely garlic.

Right, that smell was garlic. No wonder it reminded her of the orphanage's spaghetti. She continued reading Harry's note.

I think it's coming from Quirrell's turban.

She stifled a few giggles, and Quirrell stiffened in the front of the class. For a moment, she thought she was going to get reprimanded, but the professor was far too timid to actually punish her, and ended up ignoring her and Harry's fits of laughter throughout the class.

Quirrell was, to put it frankly, very likely a fraud. He tried to regale the class with tales of his wit and courage when dealing with zombies, which were largely ineffective due to his speech habits. Many of the students taunted him about his speech disorder, and even Hermione made a jibe at it once or twice. By the time they were dismissed from class, she could have sworn that he was tearing up.

Unfortunately, their schedules conflicted after DADA. Harry had double potions with the Gryffindors, and she had Care of Magical Creatures. They both made slightly reluctant goodbyes, and headed to their respective classes.

As soon as Harry was no longer in sight, several students rushed over to Hermione to bombard her with questions.

"What's your name?"

"Are you really friends with Harry Potter?"

The only times that Hermione could see Cho and her new friend Marietta (one of the girls who'd approached Hermione after class, and coincidentally, one of Cho's best friends,) were during meals. Since Cho and Marietta were in their second year, they shared none of their classes with Hermione. The only times their schedules seemed to align were during breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"So," Cho said with an ever-cheerful smile, "Are you sick? Don't you like lunch? Why don't you eat your food instead of picking at it?"

"I suppose I'm too excited about learning new things," Hermione said.

Cho shook her head. "That's not a good enough excuse. You can't learn on an empty stomach."

"I have before," Marietta supplied.

"Shush," Cho said in mock anger. "We're supposed to get Hermione to eat, not to encourage studying without nourishment." She paused. "You know full well that was for you to lose weight."

Marietta feigned shock. "Cho!" She squealed in mock horror. "You're not supposed to tell anyone about that!"

"It's alright," Cho cooed soothingly, "Everybody knows you were a downright whale last year…"

Hermione couldn't help but shake her head and smile at the girls' antics. She returned her attention to her meal, but when she looked up, she immediately caught Harry's gaze, all the way from over at the Slytherin table. His green, almond shaped gaze, seemingly unfathomable. Friendly eyes- accusing eyes.

They grinned at each other, and she was the first to look away, averting her gaze.

Hermione's favorite subject was Charms, for several reasons. First and foremost was that she herself enjoyed performing charms; they were easier to do than most other spells, and quite enjoyable too. Before she'd gone to school, she'd used the unlocking and reparation charms to a proficient degree based on theory alone, but some of the other spells were less user-friendly and were easier to learn about hands on.

Another reason was that charms, to a degree, were more practical to learn and use when compared to the more complicated magic of transfiguration. Hermione was thrilled to finally learn something that had a practical everyday use- as opposed to potions and DADA, two highly specialized subjects that would only come in handy in a highly unlikely situation. In Charms, however, she was going to be taught spells she could use to move things, wash things, cook things. The usefulness of the spells she'd learned, to her highly organized mind, meant that the class was ultimately the one that she preferred.

Last and least, Harry was in her class. There were many benefits to this: if the opportunity presented itself, she would be able to flaunt her closeness with him. If it didn't, Harry was always entertaining, useful to pass the time after she'd finished the assignment ahead of everybody else. She particularly loved it when he'd make disparaging remarks about the other students- it made her feel like she was the one that was accepted, and the others were in need of acceptance.

Though she liked Charms, she couldn't help but feel that her teacher was ridiculous. She liked Professor Flitwick well enough, but she disliked the fact that he required all the students to understand the theory behind the fundamentals of charms (In other words, score an 'Acceptable' in his diagnostic test) before he was willing to teach anybody anything. As a result, his class was comprised of writing essays and taking tests.

On her second day in charms (her fourth official day at school, a Friday), Professor Flitwick assigned an essay on the practical uses of the Hover Charm. While the other students were brainstorming ideas for their essay, Hermione was busy inscribing her essay on a particularly long piece of parchment. When the others were ready to write, Hermione was already finished, and desperately bored.

Harry was busy, still working on the second paragraph of his essay, and in no mood or condition to provide her with entertainment. Sighing to herself, Hermione pulled out one of her textbooks and began to read.

She lost herself in the book for nearly half an hour before Harry nudged her, signifying that he was finished with his essay as well. She looked up at the clock, surmising that there were about ten minutes left of class. Quietly, she closed the book, and slipped it back into her schoolbag. Surreptitiously, she picked up the note Harry had casually dropped when he'd nudged her.

Want to go to Hagrid's with me later? I think he's upset with me being in Slytherin, and I need a mediator.

Hagrid? The gamekeeper?

Sure. Why not?

Her friendship with Harry was still tentatively beginning. She still had to nurture it, cultivate it before she could assure herself that it was stable. So even if she'd wanted to spend her free Friday afternoon in the library, she'd have to go anyway.

After their classes, but before dinner, Harry and Hermione made their way across the grounds to Hagrid's dilapidated miniscule hut perched on the edge of the Forbidden forest. Both she and Harry wrinkled their noses at the horrid smell emanating from the hut, but neither of them said anything about it.

Harry hesitated, before knocking on the door. There was a loud commotion on the other side, sounds of scrambling, and barking. The two first years stood there, unsure of what to do or what to think, when the door burst open, knocking Harry back several steps.

"Sorry there, Harry," Hagrid said. A large dog poked his head out of the hut, with a hungry look on his face. "Back, Fang- back!"

The hut was just as small inside as it appeared outside, Hermione found out. There was just one room- a cramped, messy, room with meat strung from the ceiling that Hermione had to make sure to dodge. An irregularly shaped bed was pushed against the corner, and although it was certainly large, Hermione doubted that Hagrid could comfortably fit on it.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said, taking his eyes off his dog, who took the opportunity to start licking Hermione's hands. Perhaps it wasn't hunger she'd seen in the dog's face, but excitement.

She felt his sharp and slimy teeth bite her hand, and she shuddered, pulling her hand back. No, she decided, it had been hunger.

"This is Hermione," Harry said to Hagrid, who was making some very putrid tea and nasty looking rock cakes.

"Hello," Hermione said pleasantly, extending a small hand out to the apparently gentle, of oversized man before her. "My name is Hermione Granger."

Hagrid eyed her tie. "Made it into Ravenclaw, eh?" he asked gruffly. "An' you, Harry, a Slytherin, imagine that."

Hermione swore she could feel Harry wince, and shrink beside her.

"It was the sorting hat's decision, not mine," he said defensively. Hermione snorted- if the sorting hat took her preferences to heart, it would have undoubtedly done the same for Harry Potter- the boy who lived.

"Yeah, sure, sure. I'm surprised they haven' set you up against freaks like me yet."

The conversation took a much more agreeable turn afterward, with none of them pulling the issue of Houses up again. Harry and Hagrid were in the middle of a friendly conversation about various staff members and their differing opinions of each and every one, when Hermione spotted a piece of paper under the tea cozy. It turned out to be an issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Gringrotts Break-in," Hermione said in a shrill voice. "I thought Gringrotts has the best security in the wizarding world."

"Nah, that'd be Hogwarts," Hagrid said between bites of his rock cake, while Harry grabbed the newspaper article to read it for himself.

"So much for impregnable defenses," Hermione muttered. She eyed the rock cakes with a distasteful look on her face, nausea welling up within her, but hunger dominating her senses. She reluctantly reached for the cakes.

"Hagrid," Harry's surprised voice came, "That Gringrotts break-in happened on my birthday. It might've been happening while we were there!"

Harry and Hermione were walking back towards the castle from Hagrid's hut, both stuffed full with his unsavory rock cakes, and more than willing to skip dinner. Hermione was beginning to feel queasy, and was about to make a desperate bid to run for the toilets, when she heard an annoying voice that just had to grate against her ears.

"OI!"

Hermione turned around with a frosty look in her eyes, finding herself face to face with the redheaded freak she and Harry had sat with on the train. There was still a spot of dirt on his face, so Hermione surmised that either he just attracted dirt like a magnet, or he rarely took a shower. She suspected the former, but because of the smell he exuded, she couldn't be sure.

"Yes?"

Ron's face was red- whether from the apparently exhausting task of walking or because he was angry she just didn't know. "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to Harry." He turned to Harry, and smiled. "You wanna go hang out now? You don't have to be bored to death by Miss Know-it-all anymore."

"I wasn't boring Harry to death," Hermione said indignantly, "We just came back from Hagrid's. Didn't we Harry?"

Harry looked conflicted. "Well- er, what happened was-"

"You don't need to make excuses for her," Ron scoffed. "I know you only hang around her because you feel sorry for her, cause she's lonely." He smiled, and patted Harry on the back. "Even if you're a Slytherin, we can still be friends. That bloke- Merlin, he was a good guy and he was in Slytherin, so y'know, you might be the same. I read about that somewhere."

"You did not," Hermione screeched, "I told you about that!"

The redheaded boy turned back to Hermione, an aggressive look on his face. For one moment, Hermione thought he was going to hit her. Instead, he pointed his nasty finger with long, dirty fingernails at her, and narrowed his eyes.

"You think Harry'd wanna be friends with someone like you?" Ron said. "No offense, but you're no fun. The only reason he's nice to you is so he can copy your homework or something. He'd want to be friends with people like me." He paused. "I'm only saying this because I feel sorry about you being used."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you rethink that statement, Ron? Harry," she gestured at the other boy with the unruly black hair and startling green eyes, "is in Slytherin. They don't make their friends based purely on entertainment value." She sniffed contemptuously. "Or in your case, comedic value. They befriend others based on usefulness. Look at Voldemort for example. The people he thought were the most useful were the closest ones to him. People like you? They were minions."

Both of them continued to bicker on and on, spitting angry words at each other, battling over Harry's friendship, until Harry became infinitely annoyed at their argument. "Stop," Harry said.

The fight ground to a halt as the two of them turned towards Harry, faces still puffed up in self-righteous anger. Quickly, the Slytherin gears of cunning in Harry's head began to run.

"You can both be my friends," Harry said. Surely, he thought to himself, two friends would be more useful than one friend alone.

Similar thoughts were running in Hermione's head. Surely two minions would be better than just one. Of course, Harry would be more useful as a friend than Ron, but if she could make the effort to be civil- or god forbid, even friendly- with Ron, then perhaps he could be put to use later in life.

"Let's all be friends," Hermione smiled her voice extraordinarily saccharine, "with each other."

Author's Note: Although I like this chapter better than the previous one, It's still really... just me getting through more necessary scenes. I'm trying to take the time to show how the relationships between the characters work before I get the story started in earnest.

So you've read, and now, please review! I'll try to respond to every signed review. I pwomise!