Draco and Hermione

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The first day of classes seemed to go incredibly fast, and Hermione found herself back in the common room early with an excuse to be studying. She quickly went over to the back of the room and sat at a table, got out her Transfiguration book, and then got out the note Draco had slipped her. After making sure the coast was clear, she opened it up and began to read:

'We have a deal. I am not allowed to be mean to you, in public. I'll tell the others it's because McGonagall is watching me, since I'm a former Death Eater or something. Write a reply and put it under the lounge beneath the golden clock. PS: the shove doesn't count, because it's technically not motivated by malice because I did it to give you the note, see how these things are open to interpretation?'

Hermione rolled her eyes at his final statement and how arrogantly intelligent he was trying to be, because he knew how it would annoy her. When she'd finished reading the note, she quickly scrunched it up and put it back into her pocket, with a amused scoff. She immediately began writing her response.

'Okay fine, shoving is only allowed if you're trying to tell me something or send a message, otherwise, it's mean. And why did you underline, 'in public'? Make sure you make this lie with McGonagall believable, otherwise it could cause more harm than good if she finds out. I can't believe I'm encouraging you to lie, see how bad of an influence you are? PS: I owe you a shove.'

When she'd finished writing it, she got up and walked over to the golden clock pretending to read the time, and slipped the paper underneath the lounge like he'd instructed. There were still hardly anyone in the common room, and nobody had noticed what she did. Either way, she would be sitting near the lounge studying while she waited to make sure that he is the one who finds it, and no one else. The minutes ticked by as she continued reading her Transfiguration textbook, which was actually from her first year. Her plan was to re-read all of the textbooks she'd received from first, second and third years so that she could revise all of the content, before she taught the younger classes. And she'd read her seventh year Advanced Transfiguration as well, so she could get Outstanding and pass any Ministry exams they had planned for her later on. She had complete confidence in becoming a professor now, and so did Neville; he was the one who gave her the idea to read older textbooks at breakfast. He was still reading 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' when he walked into the common room.

"Nearly finished?" asked Hermione casually.

"Nope, I think it's going to take a while. I can't read as fast as you, and this books huge," admitted Neville gloomily as he held it up. It was indeed a gigantic Herbology book.

"You'll get there. Have you seen Harry and Ron?" asked Hermione next, since they said they'd arrive shortly after her.

"Yeah, they were getting into an argument with the Slytherin's. Parkinson called Ron stupid for not getting into Potions, and you know how that'll end," said Neville with a grin as he sat down at the fire. Hermione sighed, and a second later the common room door opened again and in came the party.

"Potter only got into Potions because he is 'The Boy Who Lived' and he can have whatever he wants! You're still dumber than Goyle!" said Pansy as she entered first.

"I got an Outstanding in our sixth year," Harry defended himself.

"So did I, in sixth and seventh, because I was here last year."

"That's only because Snape favours Slytherin's. And while you were here, I was risking my neck fighting Voldemort, so don't pull that shit," said Harry heatedly.

"Slughorn was teaching in our sixth and seventh years you idiot, and he favoured you, not us! And I still managed an Outstanding, because Potions runs in our blood!" spat Pansy, though she flinched when he said Voldemort's name and conveniently ignored what he'd said. Harry thought about saying that it also ran in his blood, thanks to Lily being amazing at Potions, but this was neither the time nor place to talk about his mother.