mágoa ( ✓ )

chapter two

THE SECOND TASK of the Triwizard Tournament grew ever closer, and classes had returned in full swing. In Potions class, Snape was having them brew a Wit-Sharpening potion, and someone like Hermione Granger found this to be a very useful thing to know what with everything that'd been going on. Just the other day, she'd overheard Harry admit he still hadn't figured out the golden egg, and Hermione thought that perhaps – perhaps, she could help him out. It was Ronald she was mad at after all, not Harry.

Still, she did not approach him or even sit in the same area as the boys. She chose to work with Neville, finding that he was hopeless when it came to Potions, and feeling terrible for how often Professor Snape likes to yell at him. With her help, they successfully brewed their potions, and Snape considered them passable before moving on to check the progress of another table.

"Parkinson, get your head out of the clouds! Your potion is not supposed to be that color." The professor snapped, and Hermione glanced back to find the black-haired student hurriedly trying to salvage her potion, messing it up further. There was a small explosion, and her short hair stood on end. She cried out, and someone laughed at her.

"Serves her right." Neville muttered, opening his Herbology textbook as now that they'd finished their potions, the rest of the class could be used as a free period. In spite of herself, Hermione stood up slowly and rushed towards Parkinson's table, moving to help her clean up the gloopy substance sticking to the surface. At the same time, Blaise Zabini had stood to offer help; Pansy's own partner Daphne Greengrass was busy applying rogue to her pale cheeks. As they encountered one another at the table, Zabini looked at the Gryffindor questionably.

"I've got it, Granger." He said quietly, sending her a warning look that wasn't threatening towards her, but rather signified just how much she should not be over in this section of the classroom. The other Slytherins would tear her apart with ridicule. When she didn't move automatically, Pansy's eyes flashed towards her, her dark eyes also filled with alertness.

"Haven't you heard him, Granger? You're not wanted!" She snapped, and Hermione frowned at her. Days prior, the Slytherin princess had approached her in the library: she'd even sat down across from her and admitted that she concerned herself in matters she didn't need to. Now, here she was returning to her own cruel self.

With a sigh, Hermione headed back towards her table. Neville stared at her as if she'd grown a third head. "Hermione, what's gotten into you? Approaching the Slytherins is practically a suicide mission!"

Three tables away, even Harry and Ronald were staring at her. Before she could explain herself, the bell rang, signifying the end of class. She hurriedly gathered her belongings and rushed through the door and towards the dungeons' exit. She had Ancient Runes next, whereas most of the Gryffindors had Herbology.

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A Hogsmeade weekend was quickly approaching, and as Hermione Granger sat on her bed in the girls' dormitory studying, she heard the door open and two sounds of footsteps approaching her. Her bed hangings were pulled open and her eyes met the blue coloring of Lavender's, and the brown of Parvati's.

"Hermione, we hate to see you so upset. We may not be aware of what's happened, but we want to help. What do you say the lot of us go to The Three Broomsticks on Saturday?" Parvati asked, and Hermione closed the textbook she'd been skimming through.

"As nice an offer as that is, Parvati, I'd really rather not spend my day drinking butterbeer and checking out cute boys. I have essays to write, extra credit assignments to complete..."