Nobody ever asked my birthday

Chapter 211

Harry climbed the stairs up to the Room, enjoying the warm stretching of his muscles. When he entered the room, though, he nearly stepped back out. Hermione was in there, stackng and sorting assignments and papers and parchments. They were Everywhere! Harry was frankly afraid that he'd tumble a pile and then get stabbed by an angry quill.

... and it was Slytherin's turn to teach, too.

Harry somehow doubted that Hermione had told either Malfoy or Goyle about the ... new arrangements.

Harry closed his eyes, willing Hermione and her papers about twenty feet farther from the door.

A safe distance, in other words.

Common sense and Hermione had parted ways a while ago.

(And Hermione was a sensible girl, but far from common about it.)

Harry had had more experience with Hermione's manic side than most - so he settled in to wait. She'd be done (probably) by the time it was classtime, at least.

Goyle came in, about fifteen minutes before most would arrive, carrying a feathered snake - was that really a quetzlcoatl? He stopped, looked mutely at what Granger was doing, and said dumbly, "I don't suppose I should have bothered with lesson plans, mm?"

Goyle's gaze on Harry was solid, not accusing, and so Harry found himself saying, "Fraid not, sir."

Goyle stared at Granger, again, and then said, "She's as busy as bees right before winter. What's on the menu?"

"Damned if I know," Harry Potter said honestly, "but Snape was trying to remove all that from the library, so I reckon it's pretty handy."

Goyle continued to look at Granger, responding only with a noncomittal, "Hmmm..."

[a/n: Yes, of course Hermione is doing entirely too much work. That's Hermione.

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