The Perfect Year

Chapter II

After a long, warm shower the next morning, Hermione headed down to the great hall complete with her silver "P" badge. Harry and Ron were only mildly surprised when Hermione had arrived with the designation of prefect at the feast last night. Both, though, were awestruck that Malfoy had received what some considered to be a prestigious entitlement.

"Oy Hermione! 'D you want some bacon?" Ron called to her from several seats down the Gryffindor table.

"No thanks," she replied, taking a piece of melon, "I'm not in the mood for bacon this morning." Ron shrugged and sat back down. Hermione was feeling rather full, for some reason. She didn't feel like doing much of anything.

"Fifth year timetables," said Parvati as she passed the sheets down the table. Hermione reviewed hers; Monday, Double Charms with Ravenclaw, study period, lunch, Herbology with Hufflepuff, and -

"Oh just beautiful; that's just made my day!" cried Ron, echoing everyone's feelings. "Double Potions with Slytherin; not once, but three times each week!" All Gryffindor fifth years were in a gloomy mood for the remainder of the morning, until they learnt the smiling charm, and Neville overdid his slightly, sending Hermione to the hospital wing for several hours to reset her face. With everyone wearing ridiculous smiles, it was hard to not feel happy. It wasn't until the end of study period that she found Harry and Ron, studying several thick books in the Common Room.

"Did Professor Flitwick give us homework?" asked Hermione concerned.

"No," replied Ron, showing her the cover of his book, which read Quidditch Tips From the Pros. "Oliver suggested these for reading. We need to win the Quidditch Cup this year!"

"Since when did you become such an all-star? I mean, you haven't even made the team yet!" returned Hermione. "And Oliver who?"

"Well," said Harry, "seen as Ron's the only half decent player we've got trying out, he's bound to be keeper."

"What a ringing endorsement," said Ron sarcastically as he cast his book aside. "You'd almost think I knew how to fly a broom, the way he describes me."

"Oliver who? You still didn't answer my question," sighed Hermione.

"Oliver Wood. You know, Gryffindor, keeper, Quidditch captain, etc." replied Harry, somewhat astounded that she didn't know that.

"Oh."

"Who else do you think?" continued Ron incredulously.

"What's he here for?"

"Four month internship. Dumbledore's letting him stay. Too bad he wasn't here all year. He didn't make the English Quidditch team, so he's going to try out next year. Meanwhile, he's got to earn money somehow," answered Ron sharply.

"Sorry."

"What 'r ya sorry for?" came a thick accent from behind the trio. It was Oliver Wood himself.

"Sorry that I didn't know enough about Quidditch for them," answered Hermione, glancing over Oliver. Still patriotic, his red hoodie displayed the proud Gryffindor lion as he shot her a grin. He was kind of cute. Not that boys were her forte, but.....

"Not to worry, you'll learn soon enough. We're going to have a smashing team this year; no doubt about it. Say, you wouldn't mind helping these boys with their homework, would you? I mean, with the way they'll be practicing, they'll hardly have time for school." Hermione drew herself out of thoughts of a shirtless Oliver and managed to reply with a nod. It's not like I don't already help them.

"Great. Now, we'll need to focus on rounding up the rest of our team. Any suggestions?" Harry, Ron and Hermione were silent. "I see. We'll be needing these then," said Oliver, pulling out several posters advertising tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "How about you go put these up," Wood told Hermione. "The boys and I need to chat." Hermione was thoroughly annoyed with that statement, but kept her mouth shut as she took in the captivated looks on the faces of the other two and grabbed the posters.

After pinning several posters up around the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione, under Oliver's instruction, headed down the Great Hall and began to pin one on the message board. Straining to pin a tack in the top of the poster, she was rudely interrupted by Malfoy.

"Showing something off then Granger," he remarked, glancing over Hermione and reading the poster. Hermione gave him a rude look, but wasn't able to reply fast enough to end the conversation there. "What's this, the Beaver's pinning up posters for the Woodchopper now? What's he doing here anyway; didn't they throw him out?"

"It's none of your business, Malfoy, whether or not Wood's back. They didn't throw him out, he's been asked back because of his talent on the Quidditch Pitch. Unlike some people," Hermione stared coldly at Malfoy, "he didn't need to get help in order to be good at something."

Malfoy was taken aback. How dare she say that! She doesn't know half the hell I've gone through to be what I am now! She'll pay for that. Changing the subject he answered her.

"I really don't like your chances at getting a Quidditch team this year. Are they so desperate that they're going to ask you to join the team? If I were you," he said softly, "I'd stay out of my way."

Hermione scowled right back at him. Malfoy swept off to the dungeons before she could add anything to provoke him further. A group of jittery First Years shuffled to the side as he passed. Draco knew he should avoid public outbursts at all costs, but he couldn't help it. It was so rewarding to be nasty. For some reason, it didn't work with Granger; she didn't seem affected by his comments. When she looked at him that once, he felt as if her gaze was going right through him, that he was a see-through ice crystal full of daggers shot from Hermione's eyes.

~*~

Snape was absent from the dungeons when the Gryffindor Fifth Years attended their first Potions class of the year with Slytherin. Harry and Ron animatedly debated the future of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, again, as Hermione reviewed the first and second chapters of their textbook.

"I wonder if he's mellowed over the summer," commented Ron as he examined the contents of the jars full of odd, pickled items floating around the walls. Hermione smirked at the comment, and her gaze fell on Malfoy, who was about to set Pansy Parkinson's hair alight.

"You never know, he might have," replied Harry. "But it's unlikely."

"Put that away, Miss Granger, or I shall deduct house points for not paying attention," snapped Snape as he strode into the classroom. No, he hadn't mellowed. "If you would all take out your mopweed and proceed to make the Cardei, or Language Potion, on page two hundred twenty-six. You will work in partners, and they are as follows: Potter, Parkinson; Longbottom, Zambini; Thomas, Goyle; Finnigan, Bulstrode; Weasley, Crabbe; Granger, Malfoy.......

Hermione grimaced as her partner was called out. What, did Snape have a death wish for her? Harry and Ron frowned at their partners, and Harry smiled feebly at Hermione.

"You can come over here, Granger," called Malfoy lazily. At least I won't fail this assignment. Father won't have my head quite yet. Hermione threw her books into her bag, cast her potion materials into her cauldron and made her way through the tables to Malfoy's seat.

Draco watched her set up, and couldn't help but notice about how much she needed to lighten up. Hermione was already bringing the liquid to a boil before he had so much as opened his book.

"What, 'd you memorize these things for fun?" Malfoy scoffed as she glanced longingly at Harry and Ron, anyone, in fact, other than Malfoy.

"Why would you care?" Hermione returned icily, adding a handful of toasted beetles to the simmering pot which subsequently turned a bright pink colour. It was true.

What was it to him if she stayed up all night memorizing the hundreds of possible combinations for a Scythe potion? Draco didn't know why, but it bugged the hell out of him. She was always too good. Top marks in all her classes, except Potions of course. Snape had seen fit to give him the top mark, over the frizzy-haired, buck-toothed, smart ass Beaver. In fact, as he studied her, she didn't seem to have frizzy hair anymore. Or buck teeth. She was still a smart ass, but she had grown a few inches over the past year, and was nearly his height. Remembering her question, Draco snapped out of his internal conversation and managed to reply.

"You finished yet? We'll be here forever if you don't hurry up. Come on, if you were going any slower you'd be petrified."

Hermione frowned at his comment; it was typical. She finished the concoction just as Snape swept past.

"Rather interesting, Miss Granger; do you recall the exact shade the potion was to be?"

"Black, Professor."

"Don't answer me so quickly. Do it again and I shall take five points from Gryffindor." Draco smirked at the comment. Snape caught sight of his grin and turned against him. "I'm rather surprised, Mr. Malfoy, that you would allow your partner to have such an unacceptable character." Malfoy's face darkened with an internal fear, and Snape rustled off down the row of tables, insulting everyone's potion and taking away house points at every opportunity. The minutes ticked by, and finally class was over.

"There will be a test on chapters one through three Friday. Class is dismissed." Gleefully, the Gryffindors ran out of the room. First day of classes was over.

~*~

Hermione sat next to the fire in the Common Room, soaking up the heat as she reviewed the remainder of her timetable.

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday

*2 means double period

**S, R, or H refers to who Gryffindors will have classes with.

"'Do you believe that!" exclaimed Ron halfway through a sentence as the portrait hole swung open. "I sure don't!"

"Believe what?" asked Hermione.

"Malfoy's going out with Parkinson. She's asked him, and he's okay with it!" shouted Ron. The whole of the Common Room turned to look at him; some as if he were half cooked and others as if he was Zeus.

"I didn't think he had such bad taste," said Hermione calmly as she flipped through a copy of Quidditch Weekly that Harry had left lying on the couch.

"You're that calm!" yelled Ron. "What's wrong with you?"

"It almost sound like you're jealous Ron," said Ginny from the chair opposite Hermione.

"Yes Ron," replied Hermione innocently, "Just how long have you had it for Pansy?" Ron's face was turning red at a remarkable rate.

"That's not what I meant," he grumbled. Ginny hid behind her textbook, shaking fiercely as she tried to control her giggling.

~*~

Professor Binns droned on throughout the entire first two periods about the history of the magic dollar as compared to other currencies. Neville was staring, dazed, off into space; Dean and Seamus were snoring behind textbooks, and Parvati and Lavender were discussing Oliver's return (and just how he rates on a scale of one to ten). Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had finished reading over the relevant chapter in the textbook (under Hermione's instruction), were debating their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"He must be pretty scared," said Ron quietly, as to avoid detection.

"Yeah," whispered back Hermione, "otherwise he would have come to the Feast. No one's seen him yet. I wonder who's got his class today?"

"Ginny said she did," said Harry. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks.

"What, are you keeping tabs on my sister or something?" said Ron apprehensively.

"No, it's just that she was talking to Colin as he was harassing me yesterday. I couldn't help overhearing. Did you know Colin's trying out for the Quidditch team?"

Hermione shook her head as Harry and Ron, once again, launched into a debate that woke up Seamus and Dean and caused Professor Binns to stop his talk.

"You five back there. Detention for talking. If you're not careful, I shall make it a week's worth."

Hermione stuck her hand up.

"Miss Granger?"

"Professor, it wasn't me. I wasn't talking."

"You are now. All five of you meet me in the staff room tonight at 9:00." Hermione sighed and slumped down in her seat behind her book. I got a detention. I never get a detention! I'm a prefect! How dare he! She cast Harry and Ron a dirty look and her brow remained furrowed for the next twenty minutes of class. Hermione groaned at the thought of not one, but two classes with Slytherin the following day. Potions was torture, and although she usually looked forward to Arithmancy, she was dreading it this year. The only Slytherin who was bright enough to take Arithmancy was Malfoy.

~*~

The castle appeared silent that night as the five of them made their way to the staff room. Their steps sounded off the walls and invisible winds made the sconces flicker and dance in the drafts.

"Ah, you're here," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "Unfortunately, Professor Binns could not be here this evening. Tonight, your detention will be to scrub the floor in the Great Hall; without magic. Mr. Filch has left you buckets and mops; he will check on you once every hour. You, may I remind you all, are not the only ones going to do it. There are two other students already working. They will be allowed to leave at 1:30, and you shall be allowed to leave at 2:00. Of course, if you finish before, you won't need to stay any longer than necessary."

Ron's mouth gaped open with outrage and shock as the other four showed similar expressions. Hermione grabbed her mop and bucket, and headed for the Great Hall reluctantly followed by the boys. At the far end of the Hall there was a figure bent over, sliding a mop roughly over the surface. The green-edged robes made her pray that it wasn't him. It was. As Malfoy dunked his mop into the bucket, which never seemed dirty, he caught sight of the five Gryffindors, each setting out to clean their allotted portion of the floor. The Beaver's here! What the hell did she do?! What the hell did I do? Oh, just brilliant, Potty, Weasel and the Mudsucker. My life is a living crap hole.

"Look," Harry whispered and pointed towards the head table. "Malfoy."

"What a creep," replied Ron. "Who else is here?" Harry glanced around the Hall.

"Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Don't know what he's done." The seven of them scrubbed in silence, until Ron could no longer resist the temptation and shot with his wand at Malfoy. It narrowly missed his head, and he rebounded on Hermione with full force, thinking it was her. Malfoy sent a blast that singed her hair.

"What the hell was that for Malfoy?" snapped Hermione. Everyone stopped mopping; Hermione never swore. "I didn't shoot anything at you, you ass. Hydrosena!" A shot of water erupted from Hermione's wand and headed for Malfoy. He tried to avoid the blast, but it followed him and he was shot in the back and he ran around cursing like a chicken with its head cut off. Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus waited impatiently for a chance to get him. "You four," she turned on them, "leave him alone. He won't bother us again."

How does she know I won't? But what she said was true. Malfoy didn't bother them once again, and they all were able to leave before midnight.

I'll get him; I'll get him yet. That pasty-faced, rude, snake-eyed, small equipped.......no don't think that. Don't think that.

~*~