Summary:

Hermione wants Harry to study. Harry wants Hermione to fix herself up. But haggling with Hermione is not a cake walk like hitting on Hubble. Potter perplexities ensue.


When Harry woke up, Hermione was sitting up beside him - no, her, she reminded herself - still naked. She was holding a notebook labeled "Harry's Training" where she had worked out a color coded schedule for what looked like Harry's every waking hour. Harry was going to question her bedmate when the sunlight lit up her strong but pleasant face. The way she cut her hair was very 1687, she guessed, but it was a shame. It was medium long, curly and somewhat bushy, and probably all she cared about was not having it go in her eyes in a fight. What Harry cared about was, of course, how she'd look on her arm.

"Questions, Miss Potter?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"Well, first, I had no idea you'd turn out to be a nerd, no offense."

"None taken, or you'd know it quickly." Harry had to remind herself again she was a girl, with no more strength than Hermione, who could probably whip Harry's butt without breathing hard. "Still ... " she heard her continue, "... In your case, according to the Gale girl, you never had a brain to begin with. She claimed to be an expert on that, so I won't quibble with her. But in general, I believe reliance on magic tends to rob witches of whatever native wit they might have had before. Honestly, Harry!"

With that, she turned to Harry with her hands on her thighs near her hips. The posture emphasized her breasts, which defeated her purpose in addressing Harry. Regardless, she added, "If I were truly an illiterate barbarian, the way they sing about me in this school, would I have founded a bloody Academy of Magic all by myself, barely into my twenties? It's quite the other way 'round, actually. I was an apprentice of several masters, but bored out of my mind with rote instruction. I decided to leverage all my knowledge into becoming the best brigand I could be." Seeing Harry was a bit puzzled, she took pity on her: "I outsmarted them. Tactics, strategy, alliances, narking them to the authorities, whatever I needed to do. Eventually I was the only brigand around, and I restricted myself to road tolls. But that became boring too, hence Miss Cackle's was born."

"I guess Mil wasn't kidding when she said you were a top student, then?"

"No, she wasn't. Myself, Miss Moonshine-Spellbody, the Hallows, we all tend to occupy the top places. Although, for Maude, Ethel and me it's only our first year."

"I had no idea I was dating the elite. So you used to run your own bandit kingdom, now all you care about is your GPA?"

"My what?"

"Grades, top student Grant!"

Hermione snorted.

"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and — oh Harry - be careful!"

But it was too late. Somehow, Harry had kicked her pants off under Hermione's bed and was squirming around, bottomless, retrieving them. At least, Hermione noted, it was a good-looking bottom. But Harry's head was under the frame edge, and she wasn't paying attention. To be honest, it was probably Hermione's very exclamation that caused her to jerk her head up suddenly and bash it into the bed-frame. Hermione felt a bit guilty but continued. "Sorry! But as I was saying, friendship and bravery and shagging and loot — those are my Big Four."

Hermione looked pensive. "I think you and I have the beginnings of a bargain to make. And by bargain I mean I will tell you the terms and you will agree to them."

Harry, with a sore head and dust-covered knickers, was in no mood to be easy-going. Still, this was. after all, Hermione's home territory.

"First, we will rise early for physical training, including swordplay. I promise you it will have aesthetic results as well — that means it will make us look nicer, Harry. Second, for my part, I will endeavor to look my best so as not to embarrass you in your womanizing, status-seeking quest. I realize you are normally as disinclined to hard work as Miss Nightshade, but you will be rewarded. Your grades will improve to an acceptable level, you will learn many things to help keep your friend Torok occupied, and we will both learn about girlish fashion from probably the only witch here who knows the first thing about it. Esmeralda Hallow. All you need to do is agree. And when talking with Miss Hallow you will hold your tongue about her sister Ethel."

"What about Dorothy?"

"That girl is only a bit more contemporary than I am. She was born at the end of the nineteenth century. Apparently all the time she spent in Oz was wiped away when she arrived here, making her a first year again. Poor Mildred is the only young innocent you've been able to lure into your web so far, my friend."

"Still, she dresses okay. And her hair's better taken-care-of."

"We will ask — humbly - Esmeralda's opinion on that."

"The way you talk about her, this Esmeralda must be something."

"You have no idea."

Harry had to pull her stocking on one-handed, as Hermione had shoved her schedule into her other arm, telling her she was off to breakfast. She dimly noted Hermione had changed all her classes to coincide with Hermione's own schedule.

When she caught up and sat by Hermione, Harry asked about something that had puzzled her.

"The snooty nerd girl said you specialized in breaking the rules. I didn't care at the time, but did she have a point?"

"Oh? Do you mean our tryst?"

"Well, that and changing my schedule just like that."

"Both of them are affected by your status as an investigator and protector of the school. You can ask Miss Hubble about that - she was nearly expelled her first week in, but she managed to save the school, so no matter how much Ethel or Hardbroom, among others, want to get rid of her, they can't. She's very sweet about it, but she ignores as many rules as she can without causing a public issue. But that's not me. I know the rules inside and out, because I wrote them, after all."

"Oh, good point. Easy to forget when you don't look like Madam St. Clair."

"Yes, Harry, in fact, not only me, but my daughter Amelia and all subsequent headmistresses wrote dozens of loopholes into the rules. I believe Americans call them back-doors or Easter eggs."

"So what rule lets you shag whenever you want and rearrange class schedules?"

"After your change in status, I offered to re-sort your schedule to facilitate training and investigation, so all I had to do was finalize that. And naturally that took much of the night, which is why you had a sleepover in my room."

Harry noted that she didn't have a class right after breakfast. Hermione had coded in "S Training" back in her room instead, so that's where they went.

"S Training?" she asked. "What does the S stand for?"

Hermione looked at her pityingly. "At least once you're in shape and cleaned up a bit, you will be pretty enough, Harry. I suppose we can't have everything."