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.”