Chapter 1: Act I
I Hope I Get it!
“Merlin, I hope I get it,” Hermione prayed, adding the final ingredient to her cauldron. The potion prize was practically hers. Her potion was the perfect shade of puce. All she had left to do was stir her potion counterclockwise eight times and there was no way she could lose.
“Five, six, seven, eight... Oof!”
Hermione watched in horror as her perfectly puce potion turned a perfectly awful shade of aubergine. “You idiot!” she snapped, whirling around to glare at Draco Malfoy. “You bumped into me on purpose.”
“It's not my fault. Blame it on troll foot over here,” said Draco, nodding his head at Terry Boot. “He's the one whose big feet got in my way. Luckily, I have quick reflexes, or my potion might look as horrid as yours. What color is that? Prune?”
“It's aubergine,” Hermione automatically corrected before adding sourly, “thanks to you.”
“I told you, it's all his fault. Look at those things,” he said, pointing at Terry's feet. “They're as big as boats. Maybe instead of Boot, I should start calling him Boat. Ferry Boat.” Draco laughed at his own joke and then snapped his fingers. “Crabbe, Goyle. Write that down. Boot's new nickname is Ferry Boat.”
Crabbe and Goyle let out huge guffaws. “Good one, Draco,” they chorused.
“I said, write it down,” Draco ordered. He shook his head in annoyance as he watched his friends fumble around looking for parchment.
Crabbe finally punched Ernie Macmillan in the arm and swiped the parchment he had been taking notes on. Waving it in the air, Crabbe said, “Got it, Draco.”
“Well, go on. Write it down,” said Draco exasperatedly. “Sweet Merlin, it's not even going to be funny anymore.”
“It was never funny,” Hermione retorted.
“Not to mention, completely untrue,” Terry bristled. “I'll have you know that my feet are of average size. According to The History of Wizard's Fashion Through the Ages, a typical wizard's shoe size is– ”
“Shut up, Terry,” said Hermione, cutting him off before she had to hear anymore about wizard's fashion or the stupid size of his feet.
“Really, Boot,” said Draco, sneering at him. “You're embarrassing yourself. No one cares about your averageness.”
Terry puffed out his chest importantly. “I am not average. I am a Ravenclaw,” he declared pompously. “The House with the brightest wizards who–”
“Haven't won the House Cup in decades,” finished Draco. “You know what they say, 'Big head, small brain. Big feet, small...'”
“I dare you to finish that sentence,” said Terry, pulling out his wand.
“Peee-nisss,” said Draco, drawing out the word.
Terry turned beet red. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“And besides having a small penis, I'm betting you don't have any balls either. Should I call my friends over and we can find out for sure?” asked Draco pointedly.
Terry glanced over at Draco's brutish minions and pursed his lips in resignation. Shoving his wand in his robes, he angrily went back to his potion and, stirring it a little too vigorously, turned it a bright shade of magenta.
“Looks like the potion prize is mine,” commented Draco, smiling.
“I know what you're up to,” said Hermione, poking him hard in the chest.
Draco looked down at her finger on his chest and smirked. “Oh, do you now?”
Hermione quickly pulled her hand away and wiped it on her robes. “You're trying to steal my prize. Because along with that shiny ribbon and the bragging rights comes fifty House points. You're trying to win the House Cup.”
“So what if I am?” Draco challenged. “Who's going to stop me? You and your prune-colored potion?”
Hermione scowled at him but didn't reply.
Draco smirked. “Like I said, looks like there's nothing standing in my way of getting the prize, the bragging rights and the House cup.” He turned back to his potion to collect a sample to turn into Professor Snape and was surprised to find his potion had turned to the consistency of sludge.
“Nothing except for your horrible potion skills.” Hermione snickered.
“You did that on purpose!” Draco accused.
“Don't put that on me,” said Hermione, looking down at his potion in disgust. “I couldn't brew something that awful if I tried. You probably can't even get that muck into a vial. Looks like your potion skills just aren't up to snuff. I guess that potion prize is mine after all.”
“Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that,” said Draco, picking up a handful of Sneezewort. “You don't give me enough credit. I know quite a bit about potions. For example, I know exactly what would happen if I dumped this into your cauldron. Do you?”
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, but she quickly composed herself. “You wouldn't dare. You'd get detention and lose precious House points.”
Draco looked around. “I don't think so. Professor Snape seems to have conveniently slipped out of the classroom. When he returns to discover your potion plastered all over the ceiling, who do you think he's going to blame?”
Scowling, Hermione grabbed her own handful of Sneezewort. “And what do you think he'll assume if he discovers your potion on the ceiling as well?”
“Probably that the Head Girl and Head Boy are fighting again,” Draco replied coolly. “Fortunately for me, you're too much of a goody two shoes to go through with it.”
“You really don't know me at all,” she replied with a smirk before tossing the Sneezewort in both of their potions.
Teenagers are Les Misérables
Snape angrily swept into the teacher's lounge and slouched down into his usual chair with a scowl on his face.
“What's the matter, Severus?” asked Pomona. “Someone leave a couple of inches off their essay?”
“Perhaps someone chopped their Shrivelfig coarsely instead of finely,” suggested Minerva, trying to hide her smile.
“Oh, I know!” said Filius. “Someone breathed the wrong way.”
“Very funny,” said Snape sourly. “For your information, someone blew up my Potions classroom.”
“Finnigan?” they all guessed in unison.
“No. The constantly bickering Head Girl and Head Boy. I swear, I was out the room for five minutes and–”
“Were you sneaking out to listen to your stories on the wizarding wireless again?” guessed Pomona. “Don't tell me what happened between Frederick and Grizelda. I recorded it for later.”
“I don't listen to that trash,” Snape huffed indignantly. “I was running an errand and when I returned the whole classroom and everyone in it, aside from Terry Boot, who was apparently the only one smart enough to cast a Shield Charm, was covered in aubergine- and puce-colored sludge.”
“Ooh, remind me to give Mr. Boot ten points for his quick thinking and acumen,” said Filius excitedly. “I think we might be in the running for House Cup this year.”
“I don't know what you were thinking making the two of them Head Girl and Head Boy, Dumbledore,” grumbled Snape. “Those two obviously can't work together.”
“Perhaps they just need to spend more time together,” Dumbledore replied.
“They are going to be spending time together... in detention,” retorted Snape.
“You know,” mused Pomona. “I've been thinking that maybe the reason they bicker so much is because they're smitten with one another.”
“Smitten, you say?” said Dumbledore, his ears perking up. “What a good idea.”
“No,” said Snape. “Absolutely not. He's a Slytherin. She's a Gryffindor. It will never happen.”
“It's just like Tony and Maria,” said Dumbledore dreamily.
“Who?” said Snape, looking confused.
“From West Side Story,” Pomona explained, rolling her eyes. “It's kind of like Romeo and Juliet only with singing and snappy dance numbers. I'm afraid Dumbledore's going through a musical phase.”
“Dear Merlin,” said Snape gravely.
“You know, I've been meaning to ask you to brew up a lust potion for me, Severus,” said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eyes. “I hate to bother you, though, since I know you're so busy. Perhaps you could have your students do it during detention.”
“You want me to have students brew up a lust potion? For you?” said Snape incredulously.
“Well, yes. I'm all out,” replied Dumbledore as though that answered everything.
“You can't be serious,” said Snape in disbelief.
“Oh, but I am. They'll get along or suffer the consequences and really get along.”
Snape sighed. “I have a feeling we might be hearing from Draco's father about this.”
Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. “I can take care of him.”
“Fine,” snapped Severus, standing up to leave. “This is all your fault, Pomona,” he hissed as he was passing her. “And by the way, Frederick and Grizelda broke up. Grizelda's husband showed up and stopped the wedding before they could say their vows. Her husband turned out to be none other than Frederick's twin brother.”
“Tobias?” Pomona gasped. “But he's dead.”
“Not anymore,” said Snape dramatically before sweeping out of the teacher's lounge.
Hermione Get Your Wand
“I can do anything better than you.”
“No, you can't.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can't.”
“Yes, I can!”
“Enough!” snapped Snape, bursting into the room. “Your constant bickering is what landed you in detention in the first place. Don't force me to have to give you another one.”
“I'm sorry, Professor,” said Hermione, glaring at Malfoy. “We were just having a disagreement over whose potion was better in class today. Perhaps, you can help us settle it.”
“They were both horrid,” Snape replied in a monotone voice.
“Yes, but wouldn't you say that mine was a little less horrid than his?” Hermione prompted.
“No, I wouldn't.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Draco. “Mine was less horrid than yours. In your face, Granger.”
“They were both equally horrid,” Snape retorted, putting an end to Draco's happy dance. “Now, enough of this nonsense. For your detention, you will be brewing a lust potion.”
“A lust potion,” repeated Hermione in shock. “We can't do that!”
“Speak for yourself, Granger. I'm perfectly capable of brewing a lust potion,” said Draco smugly. “Looks like it's your potion skills that aren't up to snuff.”
“I can brew a lust potion,” said Hermione angrily. “And I can brew it better than you can. The point is, we shouldn't be doing it in the first place. It's inappropriate.”
“Are you questioning my methods of detention, Miss Granger?” asked Snape, arching his eyebrow.
“No?” said Hermione in a small voice.
“The directions are on the board. You have one hour. When I return, I expect to find a perfectly brewed lust potion.”
“You mean one perfectly brewed lust potion and one mediocre one,” joked Draco.
“No, I mean one potion. You will work together.”
“What! We can't do that!” they both protested.
“You can and you will. Your time starts now.”
Getting to Know You While Brewing a Lust Potion
“This is all your fault,” Hermione huffed, stomping to the potion cabinet to gather the supplies. “I'll brew the potion. Just stay out of my way and try not to mess things up.”
“I don't think so, Granger,” said Draco, pushing her out of the way to grab his own supplies. “If anyone is going to brew this potion, it should be me. What would you know about lust potions?”
“Like I would trust you to do it correctly,” said Hermione, pushing him back. “And for your information, I have read all about lust potions.”
Draco let out a harsh laugh. “Just because you've read about it, doesn't mean you know anything. I hardly expect a prude like you could possibly comprehend the complexities of a lust potion. It's obvious you haven't had any practical experience.”
“And you have?” asked Hermione. “Is that why you have that harem of girls that always follows you around? You've Confunded them with a lust potion. That makes much more sense. Since it obviously has nothing to do with your looks or personality.”
Draco scowled. “I don't need some stupid potion to get girls. I just do what comes naturally. Girls happen to find me very attractive.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Hermione retorted, carrying her supplies back to the table.
Draco followed after her. “If anyone needs a lust potion, it's you. Maybe Snape will let you keep a sample, so you can use it to get yourself a boyfriend. Merlin knows, you could use one.”
“Why? So, I can get distracted and let you get top of the class? No thanks,” said Hermione, organizing the ingredients in front of her.
“I meant so you'd stop being such an uptight bitch, but perhaps there's no hope you,” said Malfoy, starting to chop the first ingredient on the list.
“What do you think you're doing?”
“I'm starting on the potion. We only have an hour, and you're wasting it piddling around with the potion ingredients.”
“I am organizing them,” Hermione explained. “It saves time in the long run.”
“Well, I'm saving time now by getting to work.”
“You're not saving any time because I am just going to have to redo it. You're doing it all wrong.”
“I am not. It says to chop it finely and that's what I'm doing.”
“You call that fine?” said Hermione, making a face. “Your standards are pretty low.”
“Says the girl who has a crush on Weasley,” retorted Draco.
Hermione's face turned red. “Who said I have a crush on Ron? We're just friends.”
“Please,” sniffed Draco. “It's obvious to everyone except Mo-Ron.”
“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” said Hermione through gritted teeth, completely pulverizing the next ingredient on the list.
“You're telling me. You could do a lot better than Weasel.” Realizing what he said, Draco looked up to find Hermione staring at him. “I mean, not much. Maybe, say, someone like Longbottom.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Can we not talk and just brew this potion so we can both get out of here?”
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
They worked in relative silence with Hermione only correcting him every other step and managed to come up with a passable potion. However, when it came time to collect the sample, they couldn't agree on who should do the honors.
“I should get to do it,” insisted Hermione. “I'm the most responsible.”
“I can cork a potion, Granger. I'm not an idiot.”
“Are you sure about that?” Hermione sneered.
“I have an excellent record with potions. I've never turned myself into a cat,” he said, smirking at her.
“Give that to me,” said Hermione angrily, grabbing for the vial.
“No,” said Draco, holding it out of her reach. “Keep your paws off it.”
Hermione pulled out her wand. “I swear, Malfoy. If you don't give me that vial, I will turn you back into the twitchy, little ferret you are.”
“I don't think you have the guts to cast a spell like that,” said Draco, pulling out his own wand. “In fact, I bet you're nothing but a scaredy cat.”
“You would lose that bet,” said Hermione coldly, letting her spell fly.
In reaction, Draco immediately cast a defensive spell, and while it succeeded in deflecting the spell, it also resulted in the spells ricocheting off each other and colliding with the cauldron filled with freshly brewed lust potion. Splattering in all directions, the potion ended up drenching the both of them. When they cleared the potion from their eyes, they both looked at each other in horror.
“Oh, my God! What have you done?” Hermione accused. “Now, we're going to have sex. I can't lose my virginity to you.”
“This is your fault, not mine. You're the one who... Wait a minute. Did you say you were a virgin?”
“That is beside the point,” said Hermione dismissively. “The point is we are having sex. I can't believe I am going to have sex with you.” She made a retching sound.
“Would you quit calling it sex? It doesn't sound at all romantic when you say it like that,” Draco complained.
“What do you want me to say? That you're going to deflower me? That we're going to make loooove?” She sneered.
Draco let out a shudder. “No, definitely do not say that. How about we just 'do it'?”
Hermione seemed to consider it. “Okay, I guess we could 'do it'.”
They stared at each other for a while, neither making a move. Finally, Hermione said, “Do you find me attractive right now?”
Draco looked her up and down. She was still completely covered in the green slimy potion. “Not really. How about you? Do you find me attractive?”
“Not at all,” Hermione replied immediately, causing Draco to scowl. “Maybe our potion didn't work.”
“Impossible,” replied Draco. “We followed the instructions meticulously.”
“Well, I did,” said Hermione. “Your work was a little sloppy.”
“It was not!” said Draco offended. “You know what I think? I think you're lying. I think you do find me attractive right now.”
“That's ridiculous,” said Hermione, not looking him in the eye. “You look like a drowned ferret.”
“And yet you want to shag me senseless, don't you?” asked Draco, moving in closer to her.
Hermione backed away from him and tried to draw her wand. Her fingers were too slippery though, and it clattered to the floor. Backed up against the wall, Hermione finally looked up into his lust-filled eyes. “Dear Merlin,” she whispered, her heart pounding hard.
“You know what this means, don't you?” said Draco, seductively tucking a slimy curl behind her ear.
Hermione nodded. “It means we're frigging awesome at potions,” she said, crashing her lips to his.
Let Me Entertain You
When Snape turned the corner, he was not at all happy to find Terry Boot peeping into his classroom. The Ravenclaw had his face pressed up against the small window and was so enthralled with whatever he was watching that he didn't even hear Snape come up behind him.
“Having a good time, Mr. Boot?”
Terry jumped back in surprise. “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean... uh.”
“Ravenclaws have an astounding way with words,” said Snape dryly. “May I ask what is so fascinating that it has seemingly rendered you stupid?”
“Well, you see, sir. I was passing by and I, uh, heard a noise. I thought I should check it out and then I saw... well, I saw them, you see and they were... uh... well, they still are, I suppose...”
“Are they killing one another?” Snape asked dispassionately. “Because if they are, they'll probably both be dead by the time your story is over.”
“No, they're not killing one another,” said Terry, a smile escaping his lips.
“Dear Merlin, please tell me they are brewing a potion.”
“Well, something is brewing all right.” Terry laughed.
“Shit,” said Snape, pushing Terry out of the way and rushing into the classroom. At the sight of his students going at it like, well, like two teenagers, he pointed his wand and cast the first spell that came to mind. “Arresto Momentum!”
Unfortunately, watching the Head Girl and Head Boy eat each other's faces in slow motion was just as bad, if not worse, than in real time. Disgusted, he cast a Finite, and shouted, “Knock it off!”
Draco and Hermione flew apart. Hermione quickly adjusted her robes, and Draco slicked back his hair with his hand, trying to look casual.
“What the hell is going on here!” thundered Snape.
They both started talking over one another.
“Well, you see, the potion...”
“It just kind of exploded...”
“It was an accident.”
“It was his fault.”
“What! No, it was your fault.”
“No, it was–”
“It was a placebo,” snapped Snape.
“Do you seriously think I'd give two hormone driven teenagers the responsibility of brewing a lust potion?”
“Out!” ordered Snape, pointing at the door.
For once, Draco and Hermione didn't argue. Without a word, they walked out the door. It slammed behind them.
“May I say that you two make an adorable couple?” Terry said, smirking at them as they passed by him.
Draco walked back and pushed him against the wall. Putting his wand to Terry's throat, Draco hissed, “If you mention this to anyone, I will kick your ass so hard that you will be literally speaking out of it instead of figuratively like you normally do. You got that?”
Terry nodded his head vigorously.
“Leave him alone,” said Hermione, shoving Draco away, to the Ravenclaw's obvious relief. “Terry's not going to say anything. Are you, Terry?”
“Of course not, Hermione,” said Terry, crossing his fingers behind his back.
“Because if he does,” said Hermione, pointing her wand menacingly at Terry. “I have 552 hexes with his name on them that I've memorized from various books in the Restricted Section. Each one more horrible than the next. You wouldn't want to give me a reason to use them, now would you, Terry?”
Terry's eyes went wide with terror. Instead of replying, he made a run for it.
“Merlin, you're hot when you're scaring the shit out of people,” Draco commented.
“Go to hell,” snapped Hermione, stomping off to her dorm.
With Ravenclaws Anything Goes
The Ravenclaws were a scheming, bitter bunch. They were sick and tired of never being in contention for the House Cup. After all, it should be theirs. They were the smartest and brightest of the school. The fact that it almost always went to Gryffindor or Slytherin was an insult to their good name. Luckily, this year they had a plan. What better way than to take out their two biggest adversaries than with a pair of star-crossed lovers. Their victims? Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.
“You're sure they like each other?” Anthony Goldstein asked skeptically.
“They were practically having sex,” Terry exaggerated. “When the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins find out, it's going to be all out war. We'll win the House Cup for sure.”
“Then let's tell them,” said Anthony eagerly.
“We can't just tell them,” said Terry, rolling his eyes. “We need to show them.”
“How are we going to do that?” asked Anthony.
“You know what they say, a picture is worth a thousand swear words.”
“That's not what they say.”
“It will be when the Slytherins and Gryffindors see a picture or their prince and princess in a compromising position. All you have to do is get that picture.”
“Why me?” asked Anthony. “Why can't you do it?”
“I have a test to study for,” said Terry quickly, the threat of Hermione's 552 hexes still fresh in his mind. “Besides, I've already done my part. I won fifty House points in Potions today,” he bragged
Anthony looked impressed. “Isn't Granger in that class? How did you pull that one off?”
“Let's just say, I just put my best foot forward,” Terry replied smugly, laughing to himself.
Professor Sprout's Little Shop of Horrors
“Professor Sprout,” called Hermione, peeking her head into the doorway. “I got your note and... what are you doing here?”
“The same as you I expect,” replied Draco, rolling his eyes. “Really, for the so called smartest witch of our age, you'd think you'd have a little less trouble putting two and two together.”
“I'm here because Professor Sprout asked me to help with the replanting of the Devil's Snare due to my expertise with this particular plant,” replied Hermione haughtily. “I highly doubt you would be here for the same reason.”
“Well, I am. Perhaps Professor Sprout recognizes my genius.”
“Perhaps Professor Sprout is smoking too much of that plant she keeps hidden in the off limits section of the greenhouse,” Hermione retorted.
Draco laughed. “That was a good one. I didn't know you had a sense of humor. Of course, it seems like lately I'm finding out a lot of surprising things about you.”
Hermione blushed. “About last night...” she began.
“You don't have to explain,” Draco reassured her. “It happens to a lot of girls.”
“That loss of self control. I guess I'm just irresistible.”
Hermione scowled. “Believe me, you are plenty resistible.”
Draco smirked. “Is that why you grabbed my face and practically devoured me whole with that kiss?”
“The potion? I think we both know that's not true.”
“I was going to say a temporary case of insanity. And for your information, psychology has proven that the Placebo Effect can be just as powerful–”
“I'll say,” said Draco, smirking again.
“You enjoyed that kiss as much as I did,” said Hermione, jabbing him in the chest.
“So, you're admitting you enjoyed it?”
“No!” exclaimed Hermione quickly. “I think we should stop talking about it. It just makes me frustrated.”
Hermione glared at him and then looked at her watch. “Where is Professor Sprout? This is turning out to be a complete waste of time.”
“You know, maybe we should just do it.”
Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Do it?” she repeated in a strangle voice.
“Re-pot the plants. We don't need to wait for Professor Sprout.”
Hermione let out the breath she was holding. “I don't think that's a good idea, Malfoy. It could be dangerous.”
“Scared of a little plant, Granger?”
“Devil's Snare can be deadly,” Hermione lectured.
“Oh, if you don't think you can handle it,” began Malfoy.
“Oh, I can handle it. It just so happens I have real life experience handling it. I saved Harry and Ron from a nasty batch of it first year. But...”
Malfoy wasn't listening. He had already reached out to grab the plant and was pulling it out of the pot. Hermione watched in fascination as a vine immediately slithered its way up one of his legs.
“Um, Malfoy,” began Hermione.
“No offense, but I'm a little busy here. As you can see, I am perfectly capable of doing this without your help. Why don't you just sit back and enjoy the show?” He raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively.
“Okay,” said Hermione with a shrug.
The Devil's Snare had now entwined itself around both of his legs without him noticing. It really was a clever little plant. Vines systematically began climbing and wrapping themselves around every part of his body. By the time Draco finally realized what was happening, it was too late. The plant tightened its hold and pulled, putting him in the awful predicament of being held spread eagle in front of a very amused Hermione Granger.
“You're getting off on this, aren't you?”
“A little bit,” she admitted, unable to hide her smile
It's the Hard-Knock Life for Anthony Goldstein
“Mr. Goldstein,” said Pomona in surprise. “What are you doing slinking around my greenhouse after curfew? And with a camera no less.”
“I, er, was just plant watching,” said Anthony, grasping at straws.
“Oh! Well, that's all right then,” said Pomona, sounding pleased. “I'm a proud plant watcher myself. I guess I can refrain from taking off points this time since it's for such a worthy cause. However, next time, be sure to get my permission first.”
“Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am,” said Anthony, turning quickly to go.
“Did you get any good pictures?” Pomona asked interestedly.
“A few maybe,” said Anthony uncomfortably.
“You'll have to make me copies.”
“Um, I'll see what I can do,” said Anthony. “They might not turn out quite proper.”
“Which plant were you trying to capture?”
“The Devil's Snare.”
“Ooh! That's a feisty one. I hope you got some good action shots.”
“I think I did,” said Anthony, his face turning red. “I really should be going.”
“Are you sure you got a good angle from here? Let me see,” said Pomona, climbing up to the spot he had been standing.
“Oh, Professor, don't–”
“Oh, my,” said Pomona, pressing her nose against the window. “Dear me. That is not a proper use of Devil's Snare at all.”
Anthony clamored up beside her to see what was going on. He lifted up the camera to get a particularly interesting shot, but Professor Sprout snatched it from his hands.
“I'll be taking that as well as twenty House points.”
“But Professor,” protested Anthony.
“Spying on other students is unseemly, Mr. Goldstein. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I'm unseemly? But what about them. They're... they're...”
“Yes, they certainly are,” said Pomona, taking one last look and clucking her tongue in disapproval. “We should give them some privacy.”
“But aren't you going to do something about it?” asked Anthony incredulously.
“I try not to entangle myself in such affairs. I prefer to 'vine' my own business.”
Anthony stared at her in disbelief.
“That would have been funny if you really were a plant watcher. Now off to bed with you.”
Chapter 2: Act II
What's the Story, Morning Glory? What's the word, Hummingbird?
“Have you heard about Malfoy and Granger?”
“No,” replied Snape sourly. “And I'd like to keep it that way. I'm trying to enjoy my breakfast.”
“I caught them in my greenhouse last night,” gossiped Pomona. “And there was bondage involved.”
Snape choked on his pumpkin juice. “You've got to be joking.”
“Mr. Malfoy was bound up in my recent batch of Devil's Snare, and Miss Granger seemed to be enjoying it immensely.”
“I have no doubt,” said Snape, rolling his eyes.
“I also caught Anthony Goldstein peeping through the window trying to take pictures.”
“What is it with those Ravenclaws?” grumbled Snape. “I caught Terry Boot spying on them the other day.”
“You Ravenclaws are a pervy bunch, Filius,” quipped Pomona.
“It's what comes with knowledge,” admitted Filius. “The smarter you are, the pervier. I bet Albus has some stories.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “I've had a few adventures in my time. I remember one time Grindy and I–”
“No Grindelwald stories!” Snape ordered. He shuddered remembering the last one Dumbledore had told him.
“Ooh! I haven't heard any of the Grindelwald stories,” said Pomona, sounding interested.
“Count yourself lucky then,” muttered Snape.
“I bet they're juicy,” Pomona mused.
Snape pushed his pumpkin juice aside. “You have no idea.”
The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly in the Plains
“Well, that was a bust,” Anthony sulked.
“You're telling me,” said Terry. “You didn't get any pictures, and you lost us House points.”
“I don't know went wrong,” whined Anthony. “It was the perfect romantic setting. There was flowers and bondage... I think Granger was into it, but Malfoy didn't even try to make a move. I mean, he was a little tied up, but still. I'm not sure he's even attracted to her.”
“Well, he was all over her the night before last.”
“Maybe he came to his senses,” retorted Anthony. “I mean, she's not that bad to look at. Nothing a bit of makeup and a new wardrobe wouldn't fix. It's her personality.”
“It's horrid,” agreed Terry.
“Someone needs to go full out Henry Higgins on her,” said Anthony. “Not that Malfoy's any prize, of course. He's a real dick. But girls like that in a guy.”
“Yeah, the bigger an asshole a guy is, the more the girls like it.”
“No joke. Those assholes are like, 'Get my slippers, bitch,' and the girls are falling all over themselves. Pathetic.”
“And then nice guys like us get zero action,” complained Terry. “Go figure.”
“Yeah, go figure,” said Padma Patil as she passed by them, rolling her eyes.
“You think she heard us?” asked Anthony.
Terry shrugged. “Who cares? She wants to win the House Cup just as much as we do. Unfortunately, we've already lost enough points with this crazy scheme. Who are we going to sucker into doing our dirty work for us?”
The Hufflepuffs were suckers for romance, particularly the hopeless, never going to happen variety. And if there was ever such a case it was with Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. With her a Gryffindor and him a Slytherin, they didn't stand a chance. Not to mention, the two of them were like oil and water. Or as the Muggles would say, like fire and a stick of dynamite.
After hearing about Hermione's unrequited crush from three different Ravenclaws, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbot decided to take Hermione under their wing. They cornered her in the library.
“I'm sorry. This table is taken,” said Hermione, looking up from her book when the two of them sat on either side of her.
“We're here to help,” said Hannah, patting her hand comfortingly.
“I can study for N.E.W.T.s on my own, thank you very much,” replied Hermione tersely.
“We're here to help you with something much more important than N.E.W.T.s,” replied Justin.
“What could possibly be more important than N.E.W.T.s?” asked Hermione.
“Your love life,” whispered Hannah.
“We know about your crush on You Know Who,” said Justin.
“Voldemort?” said Hermione in confusion.
Hannah let out a giggle, earning herself a glare from Ms. Pince. “No, silly. Like we would really set you up with an evil dead guy. That's a little creepy, don't you think?”
“Truthfully, I find the fact that you want to set me up with anyone a little creepy,” confessed Hermione. “Matchmaking schemes make me uncomfortable.”
“But I live for matchmaking!” Hannah squealed, earning herself a glare and a shush. “And besides,” she added in a whisper, “I'm very good at it.”
“Don't you worry about it,” said Hannah, cutting her off. “I'll take care of everything.”
Hermione shrugged. She supposed it didn't matter whom Hannah was planning on setting her up with. It was finally time she got herself a love life. She was starting to have dreams about Malfoy and that couldn't be healthy.
“Now for the makeover,” said Justin, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“Makeover?” gulped Hermione
Give Me a Head With Hair, Long Beautiful Hair
“I think the color is good,” said Justin, circling around Hermione, studying her hair. “What do you call that? Caramel, Chocolate... Mocha?”
“I call it brown.”
“The texture is horrible though,” continued Justin, ignoring her. “Perhaps a hair straightening charm would do the trick.” He tapped his wand to her head and stepped back to admire his work. “You look hot. But not at all like you.”
“Definitely not at all like you,” agreed Hannah.
“But isn't that a good thing?” asked Hermione, reaching for the mirror. “Don't I want to look different?”
“Uh, uh, uh,” said Justin, slapping her hand away from the mirror. “No peeking until we're finished. And to answer your question, no, you do not want to look different. You want to look the same – only better. That's what good makeovers do anyway. I think we'll just keep it natural and go with an anti-frizz potion, some Muggle hair mousse and a little Sleekeazy's for good measure.”
“You call that natural?”
“Now for the eyebrows,” said Justin, reaching out and plucking a hair.
“Beauty is pain,” said Justin unsympathetically, plucking a hair from the other eyebrow and causing Hermione to yelp again. “Now just a few more.”
Before he could continue, Hermione punched him in the stomach. “How many more?” she growled.
“Oof! I think we're good,” gasped Justin, doubling over.
When he recovered, Justin slathered her with moisturizers and various other products Hermione didn't know the name of. Then there was foundation, bronzer, blush and something called contouring that Justin kept rambling on about. It seemed like for every part of her face, four or five things had to be applied. It was ridiculous that girls (and Justin apparently) spent so much time on something so stupid. She could have read Hogwarts, A History from cover to cover in the time it took Justin to 'put on her face'.
“Ta da!” said Justin, holding up the mirror.
Hermione took the mirror from him and opened her eyes. She stared at herself for a while in disbelief and then turned on Justin. “Three hours of torture and I look exactly the same?” she snapped.
“The same but better,” said Justin, smiling.
Don't Rain on my Parade, Ronald Weasley
Hermione walked down the steps to the common room, tugging on her clothes self consciously. Along with her makeover came a new wardrobe. Anthony actually had really good taste. Everything was simple and for the most part sensible. It was just a little more fitted than she was used to. Ever since she had blossomed, as her mother liked to call it, she had gotten into a habit of wearing oversize Weasley jumpers. Now that she was wearing something that showed off her figure, it made her feel like she was putting herself on display.
When she entered the common room, she was relieved to see Harry and Ron in their usual spot by the fire and immediately headed toward them.
“What the hell happened to you?” asked Ron, his mouth gaping open.
“You look nice, Hermione,” said Harry, elbowing Ron in the ribs.
“Thanks, Harry,” she said gratefully before glaring at Ron.
“You look different,” said Ron, staring at her chest.
“Justin and Hannah wanted to give me a makeover. It's not a big deal or anything. I mean, I practically look the same.”
“Your skirt's too short,” said Ron.
“It's longer than my uniform,” protested Hermione.
“And your blouse is too tight. It's a little tart-ish, if you ask me.”
“No one was asking you,” snapped Hermione angrily. “And just because you've finally discovered that I have breasts does not make me a tart!”
“Leave her alone, Ron,” said Harry, trying to calm the situation.
“No,” said Ron, not listening. “Someone needs to tell her what a fool she's making of herself.”
“What's he talking about, Harry?” asked Hermione, trying to remain calm and not kick Ron's ass before she got all of the information.
“Well,” said Harry, sounding uncomfortable. “Lavender heard from Parvati who heard it from her sister that you're...”
“That you're hooking up with Malfoy,” Ron spat.
“What!” gasped Hermione.
“It's not true, is it, Hermione?” asked Harry uncertainly.
“No, of course not,” said Hermione, crossing her fingers behind her back just in case snogging Malfoy in detention and getting aroused at the sight of him being tied up in Devil's Snare counted as 'hooking up'.
Ya Got Trouble, Right Here in Slytherin
“We've got trouble,” said Crabbe, marching into the common room.
“Huh?” asked Theo, looking up from snogging Daphne.
“We think Draco's in love with Granger,” explained Goyle.
“You two are idiots,” said Blaise. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. There's no way Draco likes Granger.”
“We heard a couple of Ravenclaws talking–”
“Before we beat the crap out of them,” added Goyle.
“And they were saying that Draco and Granger were practically having sex during their detention the other night,” said Crabbe.
“After we beat the crap out of them,” continued Goyle, “the one admitted that Draco and Granger had threatened him to keep their secret.”
“Apparently, Granger knows 552 hexes,” added Crabbe.
“Draco has been complaining a lot about Granger,” said Theo thoughtfully. “It seems like it's the only thing he talks about lately.”
“And have you seen the way they fight?” asked Daphne. “It's like some weird mating ritual.”
“There is a lot of tension between the two of them. It's probably sexual,” said Goyle.
Crabbe nodded. “Something's bound to happen sooner or later... if it hasn't happened already.”
“Maybe he's with her now,” said Pansy gravely.
“This is bad,” said Blaise. “We can't have one of us with a Gryffindor. It's going to bring the whole House down.”
“We need to get Draco a girlfriend,” said Theo. “A Slytherin girlfriend.”
They all turned to Pansy.
“Fine. I'll take one for the team,” she said with a sigh.
Whatever Pansy Wants
“Where is everyone?” Draco asked when he finally returned to the common room.
Pansy shrugged. “They're out.”
“That's weird,” said Draco, taking off his outer robes and sinking down into an empty chair. “I don't think I've ever seen the common room this quiet.”
“It's kind of nice, isn't it?” said Pansy sauntering over to him. She ran her finger seductively across his shoulders as she circled around him.
“What are you doing?” asked Draco wearily.
“What do you want me to do, Drakey Poo?” asked Pansy, dropping into his lap.
“Knock it off, Pans. I'm not in the mood.”
“Perhaps I can get you in the mood,” said Pansy, flicking her wand to turn off the lights and fill the room with candle light.
Draco looked at her suspiciously. “What's going on here?”
“Anything you want, Draco,” she whispered sexily into his ear, giving his earlobe a bite.
Panicking, Draco jumped up from his chair, dumping Pansy to the floor. “I have to go.”
Pansy glared at him for a minute before composing her expression and picking herself off the floor. “What's the rush? You just got here.”
“I just remembered that I have something to do.”
“Is that something Granger?” she asked, unable to hide the contempt in her voice.
“You don't really like her, Draco. You're just lonely. I'm lonely, too. We're two lost souls. We've been fighting our feelings for years. Maybe it's time to... give in,” she said huskily, closing her eyes and puckering up her lips.
Draco took the opportunity to run.
Was There Ever a Cat (Half Kneazle) So Clever as Magical Mr. Crooksy!
“Oh, Hermione!” exclaimed Hannah. “Thank goodness you're here. Poor Crookshanks is trapped in a broom cupboard.”
“How on earth did he do that? Crookshanks is normally very clever.”
“It's a tricky cupboard,” said Hannah dismissively. “Students are always getting themselves trapped in it.”
“Hold on, Crooksy,” said Hermione to the door. “Mummy will get you out of there.”
“Have you tried an Alohomora?” she asked Hannah.
“Oh, no,” said Hannah. “I always forget that spell.”
“Well, can you try one now? I didn't have anywhere to put my wand in my new outfit, and I forgot to grab it in the rush.”
“I can't! I mean, I don't have my wand either. I never carry one.” Hannah laughed nervously.
“How curious,” said Hermione, giving her a funny look. “I'm guessing you tried opening the door manually?”
Hannah hit herself in the head. “I never even thought of that. Hufflepuff!” she sang deprecatingly.
Shaking her head in disbelief that anyone could be so stupid, Hermione grabbed the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand, and she opened the door. Crookshanks ran out and gave her an angry, “Meow!”
“I don't know why you're angry with me,” answered Hermione. “You're the one who got yourself locked in a broom cupboard, not me.”
“Sorry, Hermione!” said Hannah, pushing her into the cupboard and locking her in. “This is for your own good.”
“Let me out!” shouted Hermione, banging on the door.
“I can't,” said Hannah apologetically. “He should be here any minute.”
“Why Draco Malfoy of course,” replied Hannah. “Your new boyfriend!”
“You're setting me up with Malfoy!”
“We've already talked about this, Hermione,” said Hannah patiently. “I'm sorry for shoving you in a broom cupboard, but this is how I do my matchmaking. It works every time.”
“Hannah Abbot, I swear, when I get out of here, I'm going to–”
“Thank me. They always do. Oh, here he comes! Sound like you're trapped in a broom cupboard.”
“I am trapped in a broom cupboard!”
“Good work!” Hannah stage whispered. “Oh, Malfoy! Quick, over here! Hermione Granger's trapped herself in a broom cupboard.”
“Granger's trapped herself in a broom cupboard? Classic.”
“You have to rescue her,” pleaded Hannah. “The doorknob is stuck. I need a strong boy like you to open it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes on the other side of the door. As expected, Draco opened the door and Hannah pushed him in. The sad thing was, Hannah probably couldn't have budged him if Crookshanks hadn't tangled himself in Draco's legs. Traitor.
Draco uselessly banged on the door cursing out Hannah and Crookshanks.
Crookshanks hissed in reply and then plopped down in front of the door and started licking himself.
“Just do an Alohomora,” Hermione ordered.
“I can't,” began Draco.
“It's easy. You just–”
“I know how to do it,” Draco growled. “I just can't do it now. I don't have my wand.”
“What kind of idiot goes anywhere without their wand?” snapped Hermione.
“It was in my robes, but I had to leave in a hurry.”
“You couldn't just grab your robes?”
“No, I couldn't!” snapped Draco. “You don't know. There was some scary shit going on in the Slytherin common room. Why don't you just Alohomorait?”
“Because I don't have my wand either,” Hermione muttered.
“What was that? I didn't quite catch what you said.”
“I said I don't have my wand!” Hermione snapped. “Are you happy?”
“No, I'm not happy. I'm stuck with you in the kissing cupboard.”
“Is this the kissing cupboard? Are we trapped inside the kissing cupboard!” shrieked Hermione, starting to hyperventilate.
Not knowing what else to do, Draco kissed her.
She returned his kiss with a sharp slap to the face. “What was that for?”
Rubbing his cheek, Draco replied, “You were in shock. I had to do something.”
“And that something was to kiss me!”
“Well, I couldn't very well slap a girl, although now I'm wishing I did,” he grumbled.
“Sorry,” mumbled Hermione. “I just wasn't expecting you to kiss me, is all.”
“Yeah, because we've never done that before,” said Draco sarcastically.
“Don't remind me. I haven't been able to completely Obliviate that particular memory yet.”
“Keeping you up at night, is it?” Draco smirked.
“No, is it keeping you up at night?” she asked pointedly.
“Now can we please focus on the task at hand? We need to find a way to get out of here. Okay, we should just take a deep breath and focus. There's nothing to worry about,” said Hermione as much to herself as to Draco. “Crookshanks will get us out.”
“If you're talking about that orange monstrosity who helped lock me up in here with you in the first place, I don't know how he can help.”
“He's very smart. Crookshanks,” Hermione called through the door, “go get Professor Dumbledore. Wait. Don't get him. He can be such a gossiping old biddy. Go get Professor Snape.”
“No! Don't get him,” exclaimed Draco. “He'll just give us another detention.”
“Oh, I don't know then. Crookshanks, go get someone to get us out of here. Get whoever is best for the job.”
“Meow,” replied Crookshanks, getting up and stretching before leisurely trotting off down the hallway.
“You're going to leave it up to him? A cat?” asked Draco incredulously.
“I told you he's very smart. I trust his judgment. He'll find the right person. I know it. And he's half Kneazle by the way. They know things.”
Two hours later, Crookshanks finally returned to the cupboard with help. It had taken so long that Draco and Hermione had finally just made themselves comfortable – well as comfortable as you could be in a broom cupboard. So, that is how Ron came to find the two of them 'snuggling'.
“I knew you two were hooking up!” exclaimed Ron angrily. “Just wait until I tell the rest of Gryffindor about this. Slytherin is going down!”
Hermione watched Ron stomp off down the hallway. “Did you have to bring him of all people here?” she asked Crookshanks sternly.
“Meow!” retorted Crookshanks saucily.
“Bad kitty,” Hermione hissed.
“Another year has come and gone,” said Dumbledore as he began his end of the year speech. “It's so nice to look around and see all of your smiling faces.”
Actually, due to word getting around about Draco and Hermione, the room was filled with a lot of scowling faces, but whatever.
“You're all probably wondering which House has won the honor of the House Cup. In the last few days, Ravenclaw has made an impressive showing and has pulled ahead into first place!”
All the students at the Ravenclaw table cheered. Terry and Anthony high-fived one another.
“However I have a few more House points to give out,” continued Dumbledore.
All the Ravenclaws groaned.
“To Justin Finch-Fletchley for the best makeover Hogwarts has ever seen... 50 points!
The Hufflepuffs all cheered.
“And to Hannah Abbot for the best matchmaking this school has ever seen... 50 points!”
The Hufflepuffs cheered again.
“It looks like we have a change of colors. For the first time in, well, forever, Hufflepuff has won the House Cup!”
The Hufflepuffs cheered again, but everyone else booed.
“Now, now, settle down,” ordered Dumbledore. “In the interest of House unity, I insist we drink a toast to the Hufflepuffs.” He raised his glass. Everyone reluctantly followed suit and choked down their pumpkin juice which left a bitter taste in their mouths.
Suddenly, Hannah jumped out of her chair. “I like to be in Hufflepuff!” she sang loudly and a little too perkily.
“O.K. by me in Hufflepuff!” added Justin in baritone, standing up next to her.
“Everything's great in Hufflepuff!” finished Hannah, throwing her hands up dramatically to draw everyone's attention to the Hufflepuff-colored decorations.
“Hufflepuff makes me want to throw up,” Terry muttered bitterly.
Then across the room, Blaise Zabini stood up on the table and started singing a song about his House. “When you're a snake, you're a snake all the way. From your first Stinging Hex to your last dying day.”
The other Slytherins joined him and a snappy, little song and dance number ensued.
“What are my feet doing?” asked Crabbe.
“It's called a jazz square,” replied Goyle. At the funny looks he received, he quickly added, “Or so I've heard.”
Luckily Goyle was saved from certain persecution by Malfoy singing “I feel pretty...” Malfoy's eyes went wide with horror, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop singing about feeling pretty.
“You know, he is kind of pretty,” admitted Blaise, giving Pansy a twirl.
“It's the hair,” said Crabbe.
“Very silky,” agreed Goyle.
Not to be outdone, the Gryffindors got up off their feet and an epic dance battle began. There were jazz hands everywhere.
The Ravenclaws, still sulking about losing out on the House Cup, watched the dance off from their table without much enjoyment. They were too depressed to even make any snarky comments.
“I've seen this musical,” said Anthony, observing the ridiculousness with his head propped in his hands. “It doesn't end well.”
“Serves them right,” grumbled Terry. “I can't believe we went to all of that trouble and frigging Hufflepuff won the House Cup. I have never been more embarrassed in my life.”
“I know how you feel,” replied Anthony glumly. “Want to sing a sad song about it?”
Terry nodded his head. “I kind of do.”
Terry and Anthony stood up on their bench and, swaying in rhythm, belted out a melancholy ballad. The duet inspired the rest of the Ravenclaws to raise their Lumos-lit wands and sway along to the music.
As this touching scene came to an end, all hell broke loose as the dance off between the Gryffindors and Slytherins transformed into a beautifully choreographed fight scene.
“Are we just going to sit here and do nothing?” asked Snape, looking around the Head table in disbelief.
“We're not doing nothing. We're enjoying the show,” replied Dumbledore, holding out a bowl . “Popcorn?”
Snape impatiently waved it away. “This is irresponsible, even for you Albus. What if someone gets hurt?”
“It's a musical,” replied Dumbledore dismissively. “What's the worst that can happen?”
“Don't a lot of people die in this one, Albus?” Pomona remarked.
“Hmm,” Dumbledore mused. “Good point. Severus, make sure they don't kill one another.”
Scowling, Snape stood up and a jazzy new song began. Much to his chagrin, he noticed that the tempo of the music seemed to match his every step and his fingers involuntarily twirled his wand like a baton. Snape turned and glared at Dumbledore who shrugged.
Pomona started laughing. “Severus is Officer Krupke. Classic!”
The tempo picked up as Snape angrily stomped off, uncontrollably throwing in a few fancy jazz steps along the way. As Snape suffered through the students' usual insubordination, only this time through song, Hermione and Draco quietly slipped away from their Housemates and danced their way over to the door.
We Go Together Like Rama Lamma Lamma Ka Dinga Da Dinga Dong!
When they met, the music changed to an upbeat happy tune.
“What am I singing? This doesn't make any sense,” grumbled Hermione.
“It doesn't have to, it's a musical,” replied Draco, grabbing her hand and twirling her into his arms.
“No, I mean us. This,” she said, gesturing between them.
“Oh. Does it have to?” he asked swaying her along to the music.
Hermione smiled. “No, I guess not.”
“If I kiss you, are you going to slap me again?”
“I don't know. Want to get out of here and find out?” she asked pertly.
He eagerly grabbed her hand and danced her outside, but much to their dismay, everyone else followed them.
Luckily, Ron's Dad's car had come out of the Forbidden Forest and was waiting on the lawn, so Draco and Hermione quickly climbed in before the dancing mob reached them.
After locking the doors, Hermione laughed in relief. “That was a close one. I don't think I could handle another big musical number.”
“Tell me about,” said Draco. “Besides, it's time for us to move on to the kissing scene.”
“Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?”
“Mmhm,” he replied, moving in closer to her. His lips were just about to touch hers when he suddenly stopped and looked her up and down. “There's something different about you.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Did you just discover that I have breasts, too?”
Draco shook his head. “No, I discovered that a while ago. It's something else. I know. You look less uptight. Like you finally found yourself a boyfriend.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Does this answer your question?” Draco asked, leaning in and kissing her. “Merlin, I've been wanting to do that for a long time now.”
“Tell me about it, stud,” replied Hermione, lunging at him.
Outside, the dance number was in full swing. The music was contagious, and the students were finally getting into it and having fun. Even the Ravenclaws seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“You changed musicals,” Pomona noted.
Dumbledore shrugged. “West Side Story has some great musical numbers but the ending is a bit of a downer. You know me, I'm a sucker for a happy ending. And, eh, we had the car.”
“This song is so catchy,” said Pomona, tapping her foot. “It makes me want to dance. How about it, Severus?”
“What? Who me?” asked Snape, looking somewhat horrified.
“Yes, you. What do say? Want to take this old witch for a spin?” she asked wiggling her hips suggestively.
Snape rolled his eyes and then let out a sigh. “Oh, what the hell.” He held out his hand and gave her a twirl. “Who am I to get in the way of the big musical finish?”
Hermione and Draco kissed and waved from the sky as the Ford Anglia flew off into the sunset.
“Now that's an ending,” said Dumbledore, smiling.
“And that's the way it should beeeeee! Whaooh Yeah!”