"Have you got the next one ready?"

"Yes, it's right here…"

"Stop getting distracted, Granger."

"What?"

"I said stop getting distracted!"

Hermione jumped when the timer chimed and quickly held the withered stem over the cauldron, allowed precisely one drop to ooze out, then retreated to let Draco stir.

They'd been at it less than an hour and already Hermione could barely concentrate. Ron had been a nervous wreck this morning, Harry not much better, and she fervently hoped that disaster was not currently unfolding on the Quidditch pitch.

Several minutes later, Draco put the stirring rod on its cloth and sat back. "Merlin, I forgot how much bloody timethis part takes."

Hermione agreed.

What if Harry hadn't figured out how to run the try-outs? If he didn't sort it out soon enough, the team might not respect his authority, and then he'd be a rubbish captain.

And what about Ron? He'd never been very good at handling nerves, and he'd been so pale at breakfast —

"Stop fidgeting, Granger."

Her hands froze where they'd been wringing themselves in her lap. "Sorry."

"What's got your knickers in a twist today?" he asked, scrutinising her. "You're going to wreck the Wolfsbane at this rate and I don't much fancy having to explain to a werewolf that he won't be getting his monthly drink."

"I'm fine, Malfoy," she snapped. But he clearly didn't believe her, and after a moment of nervously chewing her lip, she confessed, "Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs are today."

Draco scoffed. "What, are you sad you missed your chance to be a Beater?"

Hermione made a face. "I hate flying. I'm surprised you don't know that."

"Oh, I know. Don't worry, Granger, I remember first year flying lessons very well." He snickered. "I've never seen a broom reject someone like that in my life."

With a sniff, Hermione pretended to be very interested in the sizzling mess inside the cauldron. "There's more to being a good wizard than flying," she insisted. He didn't disagree, and for a moment they listened to the gurgling and fizzing of the potion. Perhaps it should have been soothing, but her hands wouldn't keep still and the quiet just seemed to amplify the disaster scenarios playing out in her head at increasing speed. Was it too much to ask that this one thing go well? Didn't Harry and Ron deserve it? She closed her eyes, emotionally wrung out. "I just want my friends to be happy."

Draco sighed in a long-suffering sort of way. "Rest assured, Granger; Potter's captain, and he's too bloody loyal not to put Weasley and his sister on the team, even" — he wrinkled his nose — "at the expense of strategic value."

Personally, Hermione disagreed, and thought that Draco's bribe onto the Slytherin team rather demonstrated the opposite. But she didn't want to talk about this anymore, not when it wouldn't make a difference, and the potion needed to be stirred again.

They worked in relative silence for another two hours, by which point Hermione had grown restless again.

"I hate being late."

"Then don't go," suggested Draco.

"That would be rude!" she cried. "Besides, I promised Harry I wouldn't let him go alone. And, seeing as Slughorn invited you, too, you can't very well get out of it, either. It would be strange for only one of us to turn up after brewing together."

"Easy: You just tell him I'm not well, or maybe I remembered a massive assignment due tomorrow."

"Fat chance."

"I thought you'd be tripping over yourself to get fawned over by a professor."

Hermione frowned. Truthfully, something about Slughorn unnerved her, though she couldn't articulate exactly what it was. "I don't like the way he — he collects students like this," she admitted eventually. "I don't think he really cares about what I do, just that it makes him look good." She peered into the cauldron. "Potion's done."

Draco eyed her for a second. "You know, if you're really looking for an excuse, I could chuck some eagle eyes at your hair."

She gave him a stony glare for that and adamantly refused to speak to him as they packed up. She screeched when he let his fingers wander near the bun on the back of her head, tickling a few hairs, and he stepped into the corridor chortling.

Slughorn's office wasn't very far away, and by the time they stood outside the door, Draco had returned to his cool, sneering self. Hermione, for her part, was incredibly nervous for a reason she couldn't define, and briefly wondered if they should stagger their entrances.

Don't be ridiculous!

Draco pushed open the door. She followed him in, holding her breath, and promptly found herself facing an ornate dining table and a dozen or so students staring at her.

"Ah! My potioneering prodigies! Glad you could finally join us. Come! We saved you a seat, of course."

Hermione gave a polite smile and wave, which no-one seemed to acknowledge except for Harry.

The evening did not improve after that. Beside her, Draco sat as stiffly as ever, while Harry cast weak smiles her way from across the table. It was, quite frankly, unbearable.

"Oh — Mr Potter!"

"Er — yes, sir?"

"I was just telling young Mr Macmillan here about your remarkable performance in Potions!" Harry grimaced and made a face like he'd eaten a lemon. "You know, if you're ever interested in joining Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy's little extracurricular brewing, all you have to do is ask —"

Oh, God!

Hermione cringed and felt Draco do something similar to her right while Harry tripped over his own tongue.

"Thank you, sir, really, but, erm, I've got — Quidditch, you see. Takes up too much time. Sorry."

"Ah, yes, no matter, no matter… Mr Malfoy, I hear you're quite adept on a broomstick yourself!"

"Thank you, sir," answered Draco politely, "though I'm afraid I'm retiring my broom for the time being. I'd like to focus more on academics."

Harry perked up at this.

"Ah, yes, of course," said Slughorn, as though he understood this very well. "One of my former students is Gwenog Jones, you know. She's done quite well for herself. Gives me VIP tickets sometimes, lovely Gwenog…" His eyes scanned the table and Hermione was reminded of a spider searching for prey. "Miss Weasley, you play as well?"

"Yes, professor."

"Ah, lovely! I daresay I've got half the Gryffindor team at my table! Who else…?"

Two seats to Harry's right, Cormac McLaggen raised his hand.

"Mr McLaggen! You're on the team, too?"

"Yes, sir," said Cormac with a disgusting grin. "Try-outs were just this afternoon, actually. Happy to announce I'll be playing Keeper this year."

NO! Harry — you didn't!

Harry, who appeared to be trying to melt into his chair, kept his gaze fixed on his plate. She could hear Draco struggling to cover a laugh. He did a bad job and tried passing it off as a cough instead.

"Well, congratulations, Mr McLaggen. Physique like yours, I'm not surprised…"

"Thank you, sir." And then he smirked at Hermione with raised eyebrows, as though expecting her to have an opinion on this, and she looked away so quickly she almost hurt something. Draco started to snicker again. Maybe Harry was right about the roast carrots being the most fascinating thing in the room. He certainly wasn't looking at anything else.

The rest of the dinner passed in the same excruciating fashion. Slughorn had a bloody receiving line when it came time to leave, and Hermione was glad to duck out with the rest of the Gryffindors and head back to the tower.

Unfortunately, that meant watching Cormac try to give Harry advice on how to be team captain. Hermione had no idea if his strategies were any good, but thought it was unbelievably rude of him to carry on like this, and was quite envious when Harry suddenly remembered his detention with Professor Snape and literally ran away.

But one sweetly phrased threat from Ginny and Cormac kept quiet the rest of the way back, even if he gave Hermione a lewd wink before he went up to the boys' dormitories.

"Eugh." Ginny stuck out her tongue and pretended to gag.

Hermione grabbed Ginny's wrist and dragged her to the sofa in the corner. "What happened? Why is he on the team instead of Ron?!"

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione, it was awful," moaned Ginny. "You should be glad you weren't there."

"Was it really that bad?"

Ginny looked at her very seriously. "Worse."

"Oh, God…"

"Yeah," Ginny winced. "You know what Ron's like when he gets nervous…"

Hermione nodded miserably.

"And then once one thing goes wrong, he sort of… gets worse… It all went downhill rather quickly, actually."

"Swift and painless?"

"Oh, no. There was nothing painless about it."

Hermione buried her head in her hands. "How upset is he?"

"Probably heaps. He's trying to play it off, of course. Pretend he's fine. Harry made him reserve Keeper."

"That's something, isn't it?"

"It's a massive humiliation, sure."

Hermione groaned.

"You know what this means, right? They're going to use you as neutral territory until they sort themselves out."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I know."

The next morning found Hermione waiting near the boys' staircase with Harry and Ginny, who was apparently there for moral support. Maybe Harry thought Ron would be more likely to listen if there were girls present.

"Harry? Come on — nearly everyone's gone to breakfast. If we don't go soon, we'll be late —"

"Just a few more minutes, Hermione," Harry insisted, eyes fixed on the stairs. "He has to come down eventually."

Honestly, Hermione wasn't convinced of that, and if Ron wasn't willing to listen to Harry in their dorm, she didn't see why he'd change his mind in the common room.

As if to prove her wrong, Ron emerged, walking quickly. He'd clearly thought Harry would've gone by now; when he spotted the three of them, his eyes widened and turned downwards. It didn't deter Harry in the slightest.

"Ron!"

"Hi, Hermione. You look nice." Ron walked by so swiftly she couldn't even thank him for the compliment.

"Ron — look, I'm sorry — I —"

"Drop it, yeah?" Ron tried to make for the portrait door, but Harry wouldn't let him. Hermione and Ginny watched in growing horror as Harry's miserable attempt at an apology unfolded.

"You know I'd rather have you on the team! But you saw McLaggen" — something in Ron's jaw twitched — "if I hadn't chosen him, I'd be accused of favouritism!" Stop talking, Harry! "Look, with any luck, he'll lose a leg by next match, and you can play Keeper instead —"

"Yeah, whatever." Ron twisted past and was out the door in a second.

Hermione and Ginny eyed each other, aghast, whilst Harry looked sadly at the spot his friend had been.

"Er," began Hermione, "shall we go down to breakfast now?"

"Sounds like a marvellous idea," agreed Ginny. She took charge and physically pushed Harry out the door while Hermione trailed awkwardly behind.