In the Garden of Delight angels breathing bliss,
But the sweetest touch of all, is the serpent's kiss.

And she whispers in your ear, 'try my fruit of lust'.
I'm the queen of ecstasy, in God you cannot trust.
Taste forbidden fruit, the sweetest sin of all: oh, so hard they come
And so hard they fall.

- Forbidden Fruit, In Strict Confidence

"Hermione, erm, I was meaning to ask you something – can we-"

"Yes, yes. In a moment!" I am not in the mood to talk or think about anything other than Music class. I need to know what placement I've received, it's an itch I can't scratch, hiccups I can't kick.

I really hope that I'm good enough to be in Advanced. Everyone has told me I was amazing but still. I'm not about to toot my own horn until I know the results. One can always do better.

I don't remember how well I did because I was so concentrated on hitting the right chord; I was in some sort of trance, barely even heard myself. I just felt note after note, piece after piece, not the flow and harmony of it as a whole. I definitely can't begin discussing intellect and skill until I know how I stand among others.

"Hermione, you'll be just fine- "

"Of course I'll be fine!" I snap at Ron, who's currently walking me to the tower. He whimpers slightly and closes his mouth. His incessant whining is giving me a bit of a headache. It's not his fault i'm so high strung, but he should surely know by now i'm always like this.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I say relenting, grabbing hold of his arm gently. "I'm just nervous. You know me," I stop, giving him a weak smile.

"I do..I really do…" he says with wide happy eyes and a jubilant smile, sliding his hand down my arm to grasp my fingers. His expression doesn't falter when I begin looking at him oddly.

"Er, Ron, what was it you wanted to say?"

"We'll get into the Advanced section. I just know we will!"

Nott has not stopped repeating for the past week that he and I 'most definitely' qualify for the Advanced music section. He's convinced that all the Slytherins will.

I haven't searched for reassurance, yet Nott can't shut up about his 'confidence' in the matter.
I would've done so much better if my stupid composition hadn't been lost. I later that night found out Graham's stupid friend had grabbed my piece wanting to know what I was going to play and ripped it in two - he was just too scared to tell me, the git. Stupid, insolent fourth years.

We're ambling up the staircase to our first Music Class, in which we will be given our ranking. (It would be far too embarrassing to post the results on a notice board).

"I mean we will, right? You were good, I was good and -"

"Nott, will you shut up?" I hiss at him. "You're just making it worse!"

He stops to look at me, drumming his fingers on his leg out of nervous habit.

Then raising his eyebrows he says almost reluctantly, "Malfoy, why are you even worried? You were probably the best one to play. Yeesh."

This comment surprises me. Nott being flattering? I've been ignoring him all week, his constant repetition of convincing everyone that they were all fantastic makes it feel like a curse or a jinx. Like nobody will do well because of the unrelenting praise. He'll still admit that little tidbit to me?

"You think so? I guess you do have some taste after all then," I reply smirking, wherein he rolls his eyes and resumes walking up the steps.

As we reach the top of the staircase, I notice Granger and Weasel standing there talking outside the door very close together holding hands. Lovely.

Their conversation ceases as they see us, the 'intruders'. Separating from each other, Weasley walks away slowly in a strange stupor, glaring at me for interrupting. I raise an eyebrow at him, and walk forwards towards the door.

I open it, and noticing that the ginger kid is still staring at Granger with puppy dog eyes, I think fast on my feet. Turning towards her I say in an ever-so-slightly polite voice with a tiny smile; 'After you,' and nod to Granger.

She looks completely taken aback to my delight, while Weasley's mouth gapes slightly in his usual idiotic manner. Anything to wipe that stupid undeserved grin off his mug.

Granger hesitates, but wanting to be the well-mannered girl she is, she hoists her bag around her shoulder and stutters a 'T-thank you…'

I smirk at the Weasel who cracks his knuckles in rage, while following after her into the room.

Inside, it's extremely bright and extremely large. The walls give off a nice magic induced turquoise, and on the floor is a soft maroon velveteen carpet. I expected a set-up of instruments and space but find instead that there are many chairs lined up in rows. Though this doesn't bother me much, I've learned over the years to ignore these trivial Hogwarts things.

I'm about to sit down in the back row when I realize the seats have envelopes with names on them. I was about to settle down on…..I pick up the yellow envelope: Wayne Hopkins's seat.

He's in Hufflepuff, right? Probably.

I search through the rows quickly and spot 3 green envelopes in the second one. Immediately I go over to that spot since obviously they're for Nott, Milicent Bullstrode (who was the only female 7th year Slytherin who came back), and I. I grab the seat in the middle, where 'Draco Malfoy' is.

Nott comes and sits beside me on the left, wearing a little simper not unlike the one I usually sport.

"What?" I ask him when he continues to stare at me with his secret grin long after we've sat down.

"I knew you had the hots for her Drakes," he states and gives a little laugh.

"For the last time, Theodore, I do not! I held the door for her because I merely like pushing little Weasel's buttons."

Nott glares at me as I said his first name, but shrugs it off quickly, relishing my hot-tempered reaction. "Ooh, testy, aren't you? And how would pushing Weasley's buttons equate to being polite to a Mudblood, hmm?"

"Well, have you seen the way he looks at her? Like he's in love or something, and, -"

Nott's smile grows wider.

"What?"

"So you've been watching her closely huh? You so obviously aren't into her," he says sarcastically. "But now that I think about it, you've always made Potter's life a living hell – jealousy maybe?" he continues scathingly. "You feel internal attraction but push it away by being nasty to her because it's confusing to you. She's a Mudblood after all – she's almost like forbidden fruit where we stand isn't that right? Something maybe you want, but you can't have because of your status."

Okay, now he's just getting annoying. That isn't true at all, I state firmly in my mind as I feel a presence next to me.

Milicent Bullstrode is presently sitting to my right. Ugh, she has on such a strong grandma-style perfume I can barely breathe. And she's a rather erm, shall we say a big-boned girl. She's squishing me.

3 times the size of me, she is; which is rather pathetic.

My stomach as if on cue rumbles loudly.
Fuck, I need to eat.

Well I can't now, can I? I ignore the hunger beneath my skin, returning to my thoughts.

The point Nott's trying to make...is not true...At all!

Granger is an ugly, buck- toothed, bushy haired, insufferable know it all. Who's friends with Potter.

And a Mudblood. A filthy little Mudblood.

But as I turn to look at her once more out of the corner of my eye in an attempt to affirm my thinking, ….I'm uncertain about that last statement.

She's just there sitting next to Dean Thomas, certainly looking clean…no, not dirty at all. She looks like she'd smell rather nice, actually.

And her teeth are not buck toothed – but of course; I jinxed her in 4th year, they grew all the way to the floor. Maybe she's had them fixed? Weren't her Muggle parents reformers of teeth or something? That's what Blaise said. Ick.

As for her hair…it no longer holds the same signature tangledness; it's relaxed and curly instead of a huge bush, though it could use some work. Not to mention her nice eyes – no, I unfortunately can never get them permanently out of my mind when she's in my viewpoint.

Ugh.

Nott must have caught on to exactly what my trains of thought were for he says,
"Well I don't exactly blame you for your little crush – she definitely isn't the ugly duckling she was a few years ago. Kinda hot, actually – nice rack," he nudges me.

"I like where your mind always is," I say dryly.

"Students!" McGonagall announces as she walks in from the office in the back. An immediate silence is cast over the room, thank Merlin.

She strides confidently up to the front of the room – Professor Flitwick in tow. Whispers emanate throughout the rows of people; Why is Flitwick here?

"Ain't it a cryin' shame she's not in Slytherin? Can you imagine is she was a pureblood? I'd hit it up in a second, the delicious little strawberry" Nott whispers and laughs, grabbing my attention back to Granger, who has a smile lingering on her lips and a concentrated look in her eyes.

McGonagall starts talking but I'm not listening.

I can't get the idea of 'forbidden fruit' out of my head.

Something I can't have? 'Can't' isn't in the Malfoys' dictionary. It simply doesn't exist.

I get everything I want, always. At least, materially. Not that women are material, but you get it. The few times when I don't have my way, I'm a rather unhappy boy.

I could have Granger if I wanted, easily. Right? Just because she can't be bought per se doesn't mean I can't turn on the charm, and jewellery always works on girls…

Wait, wait, wait….I don't even want Granger – this is all merely, hypothetical. Yes.

Stupid Nott and his bloody fruit….

I listen to McGonagall as intently as I can as soon as she begins her opener. So far nothing she has said is of great interest, she's just discussing the curriculum in depth.

There will be 2 lessons a week; the first will be theory. A history of music and the composers, as well as a comprehensive knowledge of learning the terminology.

The second will be actual performance; we'll practice our playing in that time and receive help from the professor on aspects we can improve in.

This is all so exciting! I'm trying to think happy thoughts about music while sitting comfortably and quietly next to Dean and Lavender. However, I can't get Ron's conversation topic out of my mind…

Ron just asked me if I had wanted to try our relationship again. I was so in shock at the request I didn't know what to say. For once, I was happy to see Malfoy and his greasy friend in the vicinity so I could make an excuse to 'talk to him later'. More like in a year...

I wonder what Malfoy is playing at, him holding the door for me. And smiling? It was a nice gesture, no doubt, just not like him at all...he's up to something.

Anyways, Ron. I was thinking about Ron.

I love him obviously, and dearly. But I still don't know in what sense. I'm scared to keep risking our friendship over and over again like this. Kissing him makes me feel a spark inside my heart, yes. But everything is else feels too awkward for me. I don't know if I truly want Ron as my boyfriend after what happened in the summertime. Which I am notgetting into right now, thank you. That story will come in due time.

I've had more emotional attachment to him than anyone him else ever in my life. But our relationship was too fast, and it didn't feel right. After all we've been through you'd think I'd be satisfied with the 'adventures' we had, that I'd still be so madly in love with him….but I'm not. Jealousy raged through me in 4th year all the way till 6th about him not realizing how I felt about him. When I finally thought he felt the same way, like that he went to Lavender. I'd dreamed and dreamed about our future lives together, if we would have children, where we would live.

But now, after growing up so much last year, I'm realizing he's still immature and incompatible to me. His quirks that I loved so much became annoying when we were 'together'; he didn't give space. He was jealous and all over me. I don't like to be pawed. I like to be independent, I always have. I need space to do things. And he wouldn't leave me alone for fear of me seeing god forbid another boy.

Most of all, I really don't think this is about Ron in himself; it's about me. I'm older now, and I want to test the waters shall we say, for at least a bit, before declaring my eternal love for someone and starting a family. I want to be more adventurous with my relationships now that I've found myself a little bit over him, not just take Ron back because he's here in front of me. I always want Ron to forever be in my life, and that I'll admit is selfish. But I just need more time; what he did to me and our trust a few months ago has yet to be rebuilt even though we've forgiven each other.

"Hermione, are you alright?" I look up in surprise, popped from my bubble, to see it was Dean who whispered at me, looking slightly concerned.

I then realize I've had the glazed look about my eyes again. Too much thinking.

I sigh and reply, "Yes, sorry, just thinking." And give him a small smile.

He nods and grins, then we both focus once again on Flitwick who had taken over for McGonagall.

"…..and end with present day music, in which we will have an end of the year performance. Now, on to proper business – I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm present," he chuckles in his high voice. "And the reason is this: The difference in skill levels of those who have been playing for years, and those who have just started are so vast that we've decided to break the years into smaller groups based on their rank." There's a general murmur throughout the room.

Whispers cascade through the depths of the rows of students.
"Nice, she thinks we suck, so they're separating the lot of us."
"Honestly though, I'd rather play in front of people who won't internally laugh at me than at all the stupid advanced kids."
"Oh god, this is so embarrassing, imagine finding out you're so bad you've been placed in beginner….horrible!"

This might be slightly problematic, I think as I glance around the room. Every single student has apprehension etched into their faces. Then the negativity starts rolling in on myself.

If I make it into Advanced, what if I'm the worst of the bunch? On the other hand…there'll be less people probably, less people that I make a fool of myself in front of.

Intermediate I may be better than some, and then again maybe I won't….And even if I am, what if they think I'm just a show-off? What if I'm with people like Lavender who have no problem calling me out in public?

I really don't like having attention brought upon me, and after last year I sure get a lot of it. Questions every day, always centered around the same old topics. It's tiring to say the least, but at least now people know I wasn't, or am, just a good for nothing know-it-all. At least I hope that's how they view me.

I just want to be in a class that will challenge me, and one that I can enjoy.

Oh, Merlin, I really hope I'm put in the right one.

I bite my lip in anxiety. Just get on with it!

"Ahem," McGonagall clears her throat and everyone shuts up. "Professor Flitwick is going to teach the beginners of all years, while I handle the intermediate and advanced. This will only apply to the playing and practicing lesson of course. The material for music history is the same for each ranking, so I see no need to split you up again. We will all reconvene together for the second class of the week. Unnecessary and far too much time to waste to make 3 more classes. We've already had to cut the first to third years classes due to a tight schedule, so be thankful you even have the chance to participate in this." She looks so flustered. I feel so much empathy for her and all the hard work she puts in to this school. "Anyways, enough about that. You will find your rank in your envelope, as well as the schedules. Advanced classes are first this afternoon, and they start in an hour's time. Bring your instrument for we are beginning practice today! Thank you, see you all later." She finishes her exhausting speech and urges everyone to leave before they start to open their envelopes.

I hurriedly spring up, grab my bag and walk out of the classroom in a daze. Everyone does the same as I, walking down the corridor and chatting wildly nervous about what the contents of our sacred letter says. Dean and Seamus, well actually the rest of the Gryffindors, tow in my wake.

"Come along Hermione, we're going to open them all together right now!," Lavender squeals excitedly at me as I'm about to turn a corner away from them. Reluctantly, I pause and retreat to my house companions.

Neville looks less than enthused at this prospect, and Pavarti huffs outwardly. I nod and timidly saunter beside Neville to the bottom of the staircase, and onto a bench directly opposite to a group Ravenclaws.

As I take a seat beside Dean onto the stone, I notice everyone around me staring at each other, waiting until the cue to open; Seamus, Dean, Pavarti, Lavender, Neville, Cormac (who plays the drums), Fay Dunbar (who plays the xylophone of all things), and me.

"Um," I say nervously, restless. "Why don't we just get on with it?"

Everyone nods seriously and tears into their envelope slowly. As I'm about to rip off the Hogwarts seal, I hear a laugh, and turn to see Malfoy and the greasy boy, Nott, standing on the staircase and leaning against the curved wall. Malfoy looks unamused, while his company looks quite the opposite, talking his ear off about something idiotic no doubt.

Suddenly Malfoy catches my eye, and smirks as he notices what I'm doing. He's holding his own envelope gingerly in his hand, in no rush to open it, the prat. Probably thinks he's made it into advanced, no problem.

He probably has…a small voice reminds me from the back of my mind. Ugh, do I even want to be in that class now if he's in it?

I notice that I think all this while still staring at the damn boy, who beckons his head towards my hands, where I'm grasping the envelope tightly still. I frown at him, and the smirk widens and he winks at me.

And the wink makes my stomach flip flop. I'm unsure if it's in a good way or not, though I want to lean towards the bad.

He just looks so effortlessly attractive standing over there, in his clean loose dress shirt and robes. He's given up his normal beauty regime, and no longer puts disgusting gel in his hair. His platinum blondness actually looks touchably soft now, the slight fringe that frames his face peeks at his eyes.

My eyes widen and a flush creeps to my cheeks.

Why am I even thinking about Malfoy like this? 'Testing the waters' does not include boys who have been rude to you since day one. Yet, I can't help but think back to the day on the Owlery...when I fell on him.

I felt the same bubbling feeling in my chest from him winking at me as I did when he stared into my eyes when I practically straddled him.

Which was in a bad way, I remind myself. God, I shouldn't be thinking about him...

Luckily, a satisfied yelp comes from beside me and I can be momentarily distracted.

"Yes! Advanced!" Dean shouts and slaps Seamus' hand.

"Me too! This is going to be a right awesome class to be sure," Seamus beams. I smile lightly at their adorable friendship, and notice everyone else outraged at their pages.

"Beginner? Who does McGonagall think she is!" Cormac says angrily.

"I-I got Beginner too," Neville groans.

"I'm in intermediate…well at least you have some friends in each level." Pavarti tries optimistically.

"Ditto," Fay says unconcerned.

I look at Lavender and see her breathing heavily, a look of pure shock on her face.

"What, W-what is it Lav?" Pavarti asks, worried.

"Beginner." Everyone freezes, turning to look at each other, knowing too well what's going to happen next.

"Beginner. Beginner? Is she serious! The horny toad!" she practically screams, and everyone jumps and goes silent, unwilling to say anything in case she hexes them into space.

Then she fixes her gaze on me, mad eyes glaring at me. "And what about you, Miss Perfect Performance? Where do you stand? You haven't even opened it you little, arrogant- "

"Okay, that's enough!" Dean warns her, then looks curiously expectant at me. All eyes are on me.

Oh god, please no.

I shake as I tear the envelope, noticing that Malfoy is still staring at me from over by the wall. Stop it.

I neatly fold out the parchment inside and scan the page, down past the boring bits to find the sentence I'm looking for:

…pleased to inform you, Hermione Granger, that you have been placed in the Advanced category.

For a second, I'm unable to speak.

"Advanced," I breathe shakily, excitement and relief exploding from my chest.

"WHAT?" Everyone else quips, wanting to know the outcome.

"Advanced!" I squeak. Dean surprisingly engulfs me in a hug, saying he's glad I'll be with Seamus and him, while everyone else cheers appreciatively. Except Lavender of course.

"Yay, Hermione!" Neville says, smiling. "You deserved it."

I look up at my friend and beam. "Oh, thank you Neville! That's so sweet." And then suddenly the reality of the situation hits me.

Ohmygod! I must go practice, now! I've only got 45 minutes to tune and revise!

I jump up out of Dean's still lingering arms and snatch my bag from the floor.

"What? What is it?" Dean asks.

"I've got to go practice of course! Get my violin ready. Class is in 50 minutes!" Don't they understand the importance of first impressions in class? Who cares if it's McGonagall? I wave to everyone and hurry off, not before hearing a few chuckles and Neville say fondly,

"Only Hermione…"

I really don't want to open this wretched letter.

On the one hand, I want to be in Advanced because I know I'm worthy of it. Sorry to brag folks, but I am pretty amazing when it comes to music, if all else fails.

On the other hand, do I really want to share a class with Granger?

Well, maybe to finally beat her at something for once…yeah that makes sense. I do like seeing her squirm. Winking at her was genius anyways. She looked all frowny and confused and then I made her blush the silly lamb.

She looked kind of cute.

NO, she fucking didn't. Shut up, brain, you don't even know what you're saying.

God, I really need to fucking eat something.

I stare at the bright green letter in my hands and think of apple flavoured Fizzing WhizBees.

And then I want to throw up. I hate those things.

And then I look directly in front of me and want to throw up more. Stupid Thomas and Finnigan are going to be in the Advanced class as well, I realize. Ugh. They would have to be, wouldn't they? Just to make my life even more of a living hell.
Stupid Gryffindors.

I sigh dejectedly as I lean into the wall and cross my arms. Nott is talking a mile a minute about something irrelevant.

"And then she lifted her leg into the air, all the way above her head just like that! And I was all, damn girl, how'd you learn that? And she was all…"

I scan the gold letters of my name on the envelope back, and decide to get it over with.

"Nott?" I interject, annoyed he won't shut up.

"Oh, sorry, what?" he asks sheepishly.

"Let's open these," I respond, waving my hand with the letter in the air.

"Oh-okay sure," he says, nervous.

And I suddenly realize I am too. Because what if he isn't in my class? Actually, what if he is?

As I stare at his broad face and stringy hair, I realize that I depend on him to be my sort of wingman. But at the same time, I can't stand him. His mundane stories, his all-around arrogant creepiness. It's enough to drive you insane. Ugh.

It's a lose-lose situation. If I'm in Advanced I'll be all by myself, a lonely Slytherin (Millicent is awful. I apologise, but she is not a graceful clarinet player). It's not that big of a deal since it's only once class and I work better alone, but it would be nice to not be so isolated all the time.

On the flipside, I'll be stuck with the whiny bitches if I get Intermediate, and Nott will probably make my bones turn to sawdust with his drawn out exaggerated stories.

Okay stop it, Draco. Just open it already.

1…2…3.

I fold the top of the envelope over the back, and pull out the white sheet inside. Smoothing the creases, I read the page carefully, not missing a word.

"What'd you get-"

"Shh!" I silence him. He mumbles something, but I ignore it.

I read for a moment or two, then anxiety takes the best of me and find the section I'm looking for.

We are pleased to inform you, Draco Malfoy, that you have been placed in the Advanced category.

I gape at the sentence for a few seconds, unable to decide whether or not to be pleased or disappointed.

"So, so , soooooo?" Nott urges motioning with his hands.

"A-advanced?" I say looking up at him, trying to sound happy. But it comes out confused.

"Wow, that's awesome Drakes! I'm in intermediate," my chest hitches in fear, "but I'll be okay. Probably a lot more people in that class, so that equates to uber amounts of chicks. I'm a stud now remember?" He laughs. "And Grangers in your class, so you're all set now too!" he teases and punches me in the arm.

I make a little noise of pain and rub my bicep; I'm frail you cretin! And I do not like Hermione Granger!

"Would you just shut up about her!" I whisper-yell at Nott.

Nott's little smile fades and he looks at me quizzically.

"I'm just pulling your chain, Malfoy...and even if you did like her it doesn't really matter anymore. I've never really cared about blood much to be honest, Dad just was convinced I should. I'm pretty sure there aren't enough Slytherins around to judge you." He finishes looking at me apprehensive, like I'm going to explode again. I feel awkward now getting so angry at him.

"Boys! Wait!" I swivel behind me and see Slughorn panting to catch up with Nott and I, even though we weren't attempting to run away in the first place.

Slughorn grasps his chest and breathes deeply, holding out is hand in a 'just a moment' fashion, the dramatic little fat man.

"Yes, professor?" I try to say politely. Why is his wand in such a knot?

"Do you have – wheeze- a moment? We need to talk! And get Bullstrode too." He says urgently.

No, I do not have a moment! I need to go get my shit together before I sit with the lot of these idiots in my new class.

"Um, may we ask why?" Nott prods.

"Quidditch! Quidditch! !" he replies loudly and stupidly. "Headmaster wants to cut our team out of the league because of the low student count. First years aren't supposed to have their own brooms remember?"

Boy, do I remember, I think bitterly.

"If you want Slytherin to have a team this year we need to persuade McGonagall we have a team! Now come, come, be in my office in 5 minutes. Do you hear me, five!"

No Quidditch team? !

Nott and I look at each other, both thinking the same thing.

First, nobody shows up for school making the Slytherin pride suffer (and trust me, pride is the most imperative weapon in our houses arsenal). And now there's the potential humiliation of not being able to compete for the Cup because we aren't able enough?...

"MILLICENT!"