Chapter 13
Being Harry Potter's Girlfriend
Harry leaned back on his stool, tipping it onto two legs until they felt like they would crack. The dungeon was cold and dank, but the boy was so mad, he could imagine the chill settling around him like a cloud of steam. Class was almost over and he felt like running out of the room screaming while throwing hexes right and left. The Potions Professor, Snape was being as nasty as ever, but now instead of Harry being his favorite one to pick on and humiliate, he was antagonizing Hermione, gleefully aware of the seething young man seated behind her next to Ron.
"Why hasn't anyone turned him into a toad yet? Aren't wizards and witches known for that sort of thing?" Harry hissed through his teeth at his brewing partner, Ron.
His tall and gangly friend snorted in reply but kept stirring the cauldron counter-clockwise while counting softly under his breath. Just a few more ingredients and the tedious potion would be ready to simmer. Ron glanced at his friend and rolled his eyes at the searing glare Harry was directing at the Potions Professor. Harry had shredded a pile of dried mugwort into a tattered mound of useless twigs. Ron sighed and handed Harry another stack of roots to dismember. It at least kept him occupied.
At a final swirl of the stir stick, Ron pulled back and squinted at his potion. It was at least slightly blue, and not neon green and sparking like Neville's; but it still looked slightly off. He peered back at the instructions on the board, and counted back in his mind over all the ingredients. Harry had been no help whatsoever this class. He hadn't taken his eyes off Snape since the professor had started harassing Hermione over the way she cut her roots or how she stirred her potion. Ron was just glad Harry hadn't flipped out completely. He remembered several classes with the former Defense teacher, Ms. Umbridge; where Harry had utterly lost it. Today Ron could see the color on Harry's face get redder and redder just like before. Ron was sure it wasn't going to be long now until his friend went combustible.
Actually, Hermione was enjoying her potions class. Every remark Snape made about how she performed her experiment was so pathetic she could tell he was just trying to make Harry blow up so as to get him in trouble. Hermione was actually a little glad of the attention. At least this way she knew Professor Snape really was aware that she knew what she was doing. He had always made such nasty comments about her in class that being able to shove her talent with brewing right up his beaky nose made her stand straighter and put a small grin on her face.
"Too fast, Miss Granger. I expect better from a six level. Shoddy potions workmanship could cause worse damage than any hex." He glowered over his shoulder at the girl as he strode down the isle looking like a bird of prey.
Neville gulped as the darkly dressed man paced behind his workstation. He couldn't keep his hands steady when the professor stopped and hovered behind him. Neville was doomed. A clatter of spoons and a large splash later, Neville's face and hands were covered in lime green muck spattered up from his cauldron. Shiny green scales erupted from his skin and the frightened boy found himself flicking a forked tongue and hissing to himself. Professor Snape swished his wand and the bubbling muck in the boy's cauldron disappeared.
"Ten points from Gryffindor. You'll go to the nurse after class. Until then, please write an essay on what you did wrong with your potion. I expect it before the end of class."
Neville blinked his now dragon-like eyes and sniffed from his newly elongated snout. How he was supposed to write with claws for hands he didn't know, but he scrambled across his desk for parchment and at least looked busy. The Potions Professor grimaced in disgust and spun around to see who wasn't attending to their own potions and were watching Neville's astonishing display.
Hermione couldn't hide her sense of loathing. How a teacher could browbeat a student like that made her furious. It would serve him right to get his own back once in a while. A sneaky little idea suddenly popped into her brain when the hawk-nosed teacher had begun his harangue. She had remembered a similarly colored potion to the one they were currently brewing that caused a distasteful reaction of putting hair all over one's face and body. It was only a few ingredients different and it only needed to be topically applied. With a stealthy gleam in her eye, she slipped the small changes into the pot then purposely leaned over the cauldron as if examining it carefully. Snape couldn't resist. He strode over and leaned his face in to see what mistake she had discovered about her potion. With a quick flick, she pulled back on her spoon, and splattered the man's face with the sticky blue solution. Hermione stepped back and affected dismay at the professor's rapidly growing beard and, well, fur.
"Sir, I knew I had mistaken an ingredient or two, I was so upset! What could have happened? Professor! Should I call Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione had mastered the wide-eyed innocent face that all girls learn to use in certain situations and was using it to perfection.
The class couldn't keep from staring at Snape, they all stood dumbstruck with stir sticks dripping in the air, unsure whether to laugh at the man or run away in fear of being hexed. The professor was dripping blue goo from his protuberant nose and was quickly turning into a rather good facsimile of the Wolf-Man. The low growling didn't help dispel the image at all.
"Class dismissed!" He shrieked as he stalked away leaving the class with full bubbling cauldrons and a good half hour of class remaining. Everyone just stood there looking at each other before shrugging to one another, then magically removing their potions and filing out of the door.
Hermione waited stiff-backed with her face to the front of the room until everyone but Ron and Harry had left. She hid her face from the two boys as she waved them out the door in front of her. Worriedly, they shoved all their books and parchments haphazardly into their bags and put away the cauldron as slowly as they could.
Her whole body was shaking, and she ran out the door with her head down.
"Go! Go! I can't hold it any longer!" She gasped with tears running down her cheeks.
"Hermione? Are you alright? I'll kill that evil toad for everything he said! I am sure that he will…"
Harry pulled back his angry tirade when he caught her laughing so hard she doubled up and threw her book bag on the floor. Large, full tears were coursing down her cheeks and she was laughing so much, no sound was coming out anymore. She started gasping for air and reached her hands out to a completely confused Ron and Harry.
"Could you possibly believe that I would mess up the Festinatio potion? I could do that one with my eyes closed!" She hiccupped loudly as she giggled.
Both the boys stared dumbfounded at the normally prim and proper and law-abiding girl. Her cheeks were red as apples and her grin spread from ear to ear. Ron turned and grabbed Harry by the shoulders.
"What have you been teaching this girl? She was so sweet when we met. Remember when she thought getting expelled was worse than death? Here you have her performing pranks on the teachers!" Ron shook his head mockingly and clapped a hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"Don't let him corrupt you completely, my girl. However, when my brothers hear about this your stock will definitely go up in their books." Ron beamed down at his friend and grabbed her hand to help her up from the floor.
Their laughter rang down the hallway as they walked together to the already buzzing Great Hall for lunch.
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The crowds were blowing on their hands and stamping their feet to keep their blood flowing in the first really cold day that heralded the opening Quidditch match of the season. The Slytherins were playing against their favorite enemy, the Gryffindors, and tempers were flying high.
The Red and Gold team was flying high above the pitch running relays and cross path formations to warm up for the
upcoming competition. Harry had finally been convinced to take on his old Seeker position, much to the relief of Ginny
Weasley who was a much better Chaser and had taken that role instead. It was odd to not see the Weasley twins in their
beater spots, but the "new pranksters", Jervy and Bartley, had taken to the positions with abandon. Ron
floated around his goal with a hawk-like concentration on his face even though the game had yet to begin.
Malfoy's team was huddled together on the ground around their own goal posts whispering plots and counter plots that would bring down their enemies to the Slytherin's greatest advantage. Malfoy would turn every once and a while and throw his arms up making the whole Green and Silver side of the stands erupt in cheers and stamping feet. Harry thought he looked like a maniacal cheerleader with his prancing and posing. The blonde Slytherin kept throwing sneering grins up in the direction of the Red and Gold team. Harry knew they were planning something underhanded, but what else was new?
Before long, Madame Hooch whistled loudly and the match began. Harry swung high and positioned himself above the fray so he could keep an eye on the match and still hunt out the snitch. The air was colder there, and Harry kept rubbing his gloved hand together in anticipation. He loved the feeling of absolute abandon that flying gave him mixed with the fierce concentration finding the snitch required. It seemed strange that two completely opposite things meshed so well in Quidditch. That was one of the delightful but oddly brilliant things about magic that he loved.
He swooped down in wide circles to warm himself up and ready his mind and body for the exercise to come. He could make out Hermione in the stands as she jumped up and down and waved his direction. He grinned and flew fast over the tops of the Gryffindor crowd buzzing their capped heads and causing them to whoop in delight. He could hear the boos from the crowd across the stands, but that only made his House yell all the louder. He carried himself up higher and settled in to scan the horizon for the elusive glimmer of the snitch.
Jervy and Bartley were brilliantly rushing the other beaters and swooping circles around the chasers making the Slytherin team spout angry threats against them. Harry couldn't help but laugh when Jervy smashed Nott right in the backside with the bludger as the Slytherin had bent over to fly his broom lower.
With a loud laugh, the announcers gleefully noted the masterful move and suddenly everyone recognized the Weasley Twins as the ones commenting on the game. A loud roaring cheer erupted as the two young men were clapped on the back and generally shoved about. Harry waved at the two and even Ron was seen grinning from his guard position.
"Can't seem to get rid of those two, can we?" Professor McGonagall grimaced playfully at the Headmaster.
"They always seem to be in the mix of things, don't they, Minerva? I wonder how they came to have that commentator's position. Do you know anything about it?" He openly grinned at the smirking Transfiguration Professor. He knew she had a soft spot for the twins even though she always acted as if they were the bane of her life. He didn't doubt she had fallen prey again to their conniving ways.
"Well, Gred, it seems our protégés are working out magnificently if I must say so."
George nodded to his brother as if they were watching the Ascot race instead of witnessing teenagers bludger each other mercilessly.
"Yes. I must say." Fred agreed.
"It looks as if our younger sister has knocked young Baddock off of his broom with a right hook. Wasn't that quite lovely?"
"Quite!" Fred agreed as he drank a cup of tea.
Lee Jordan was sitting behind them laughing so hard he couldn't speak. He shook his head and grabbed them both with his arms around their necks.
"Don't you think you should comment on the game a little and stop acting like complete gits?" Lee grinned at the two boys who looked back at him with their noses in the air.
"Who lets the riff-raff in these days?" Fred brushed Lee's arms off and straightened his clothing as if it were much finer than the loud neon yellow tee-shirts that proclaimed, "Weasley's Wheezes are Wonderific!" in bold type face that changed colors randomly.
Hermione was sitting next to Neville as they watched the game progress. She had brought a book from the library, but for once she couldn't help but pay attention to the match. It was different now that Harry was her boyfriend. It mattered when he was just her friend, but now, she wanted him to know she really was watching. She was bored out of her mind, but she hid it well. She gasped and grabbed her book close to her chest when Harry dived nose first in a swooping arc that nearly crashed him into the goal posts until he pulled up into a tight save. She didn't let out her breath until he saw her and waved. She knew he was acting a little foolish on her account, so she rolled her eyes and waved back even though she wanted to throttle him for making her almost pass out.
Neville had never been one to care much for Quidditch, but he watched so he wouldn't be left out of the conversations that inevitably happened in the dorm room every night. He liked to fly, but he wasn't that great at the whole quaffle thing. He'd rather be doing racing or just doing rolls and twists. He liked to have both hands on the broom, though, and that didn't help when you are trying to make points with a ball in your hand. Malfoy always said stupid things about how he knew he couldn't fly at all, which was a bald-faced lie. Neville wasn't the only one who really wished he could someday shove that Slytherin's face into the smelly pile just outside Hagrid's hut.
The boy sat with his body propped against the next bench above him and he absently rubbed his wrist. He had a burn just like Hermione's that he had scratched until it had scabbed over in a painful red itchy patch. Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand to keep him from ripping the scab right off.
"Neville! It will never heal if you keep picking at it! Look. Mine has gotten much better. We must have been hit by the same spell at the Hogsmede attack. Mine is still red, but if you don't mess with it, it will eventually go away."
Neville grimaced at her but he did stop scratching. These matches always take so long. He thought. At least Hermione is sitting next to me. That's something! He couldn't help stealing a glance at the pretty girl next to him. He knew she and Harry were going out, but he could still dream, couldn't he?
Ron had caught three in a row which sent the whole side of the stadium that wasn't Slytherin into rolls of yells and screams. Even the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses were cheering for Gryffindor. It was the beginning of the season with no one in the lead as yet, and Slytherin was notoriously the hated of the four. Luna Lovegood, of Ravenclaw, could be seen from a mile away wearing her ridiculous lion hat that roared off and on at odd moments.
Without missing a beat, the Gryffindor team swooped into formation and narrowly hooked another goal by side swiping the Slytherin beaters and confusing their chasers until Ginny could throw one in. Harry was watching carefully for the snitch and was studying Malfoy out of the corner of his eye as well. He knew the blonde boy had something up his sleeve, but they were winning by sixty points and he couldn't help but grin at the other boy's obvious anger.
Hermione had finally thrown her book down and was standing up and cheering with the others around her. Lavender was jumping up and down and had grabbed her hands around Dean Thomas' neck making the boy's face get redder and redder from lack of oxygen.
Hours passed and the wind started to pick up sending couples happily into snuggle position. It was getting colder, and the match was still pretty even after three hours of play. Neville's eyes were glazing over with boredom. Why don't I just sneak out? He thought to himself. No one would miss him, and maybe he could get some time in at the Herbology lab all by himself for once. He could practically hear a voice in his head agreeing with him. Almost as if he wasn't in control of his own actions, he stood up without even speaking to Hermione and slid down the row to the stairs. He was happy and whistling a little to himself. It was good to get out away from everyone else, sometimes.
He walked down the stairs and turned to his left to where Filch was standing muttering to himself. Neville reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. With a gentle, "Dormire," Neville cast a sleep spell on Filch who slid softly against the wall in a grunting and whiffing snore.
He's gone to sleep. How odd. He thought to himself. The boy stared blankly at the caretaker then smiled vacantly as he pulled the school's master keys off the man's left hip. Yes, I think I'll go to the Herbology lab. That will be lovely. He continued whistling to himself as he pushed the sleeping figure roughly into a nearby cubby and locked it. Without a backward glance, he happily walked out the stadium toward the Castle. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and jauntily started humming `Weasley is our King.' He frowned a little when he pulled the large ring of keys out of his pocket and stared at them disinterestedly. Just some trash in my pocket, it seems. Shrugging to himself, he pitched the handful of keys hard across the Hogwarts apparition barrier. Continuing on, he spent the rest of the afternoon ensconced in the lab puttering around to his hearts content.
Soon after Neville had entered the Herbology building, a dark figure appeared just outside the Hogwarts barrier line. Nott chuckled to himself at the ease the boy's mind became his plaything. The bracelet had done its trick and no one had noticed the boy's departure. The caretaker's magical keys glittered on the ground and Nott grabbed them and held them close. Next time, I am going to use the girl. If I get her to kill that Potter boy, I know my master will be very pleased! Nott laughed wildly then apparated into nothingness.
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