All over the school, teachers were getting the assistance bug. Even Trelawney, who feared to let anybody in on too much of her operation, had a fourth year Ravenclaw cleaning tea cups and dusting off the crystal balls. The only hold out was Professor Quirrel who seemed to worry about letting anybody close to him. He continued to handle DADA all by himself.
Ron continued to groan at the very idea of doing more work than absolutely necessary until one Saturday he came into lunch all sweaty and windblown with his face red and chapped.
West grinned at the other assistants [Hermione and Neville] before making his comment. "Well Ron. You look like you've finally succumbed to the Working Weekend virus."
"Working? Do you think I'm nutters like the rest of you?" He stuck out his chin as he swelled with pride. "Madam Hooch has made me brooms keeper. She gave me this key to the shed and now nobody gets a broom on the weekend without my say so. And during class I'm going to go around and tell the rest of you how it's done."
West spent Saturday mornings with Snape on a regular basis. Between the two of them, they saw to it that all first years were as prepared as could be for each lab. Saturday afternoons and Sundays he spent with Hermione, often researching in the library but sometimes just sitting in the common room or on occasion walking along the lake shore. It was just at such a time, at the start of November, that he reached for her hand. She did not draw back.
But as West's dad had said, "Scuttlebutt in a boarding school is as common as sand fleas in your skivvies." A few days later in Potions class Snape sneered, "Mr. Westinghouse, are you in love with Miss Granger?"
West sputtered, "Professor, that is a most personal question."
"ANSWER ME!" the sallow wraith demanded.
The boy turned to the girl; their eyes locked. Dean Thomas, who sat behind them, later swore he heard violins. West felt his heart race. He was having trouble breathing. Hermione was starting to blush. He found his voice. Without taking his eyes off of her, he said, "Yes sir. I AM in love with Miss Granger." Her eyes were sparkling. Ron, sitting on her other side, looked about trying to find were the bird song was coming from.
West didn't know what came over him. As he gazed into her eyes he became oblivious to everybody and everything around them. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted it more than anything he had wanted in his life. He found himself leaning towards her. He knew it wasn't proper, that in Britain one didn't kiss in class right in front of the teacher, but he was beyond caring. And he knew Hermione didn't care either because she was leaning towards him.
Their lips touched. It wasn't vigorous, not passionate. Physically, it was most sedate, chaste. But his heart was no longer his own as he soared through the clouds. The touch of her velvet lips, their taste, the scent of her perfume. The glow of lamp light on her shining brown hair.
Then they both realized what they were doing and broke off. The kiss seemed to have lasted only a moment but now the room was empty save for themselves and Professor Snape. The potions master sat at his desk looking straight at them as if he couldn't believe his eyes. He was too disbelieving even to demerit them.
They fumbled around for an apology, but before they could form the words he said, "Oh just get OUT of here." They grabbed there gear and hurried out.
Alone in the room Snape groaned, "That's just what the world needs. Grow up and marry and fill it with courageous little Gryffindors."
A few months into term, West came across something in the library that did not jibe with his experience and true to his scientific training he sought out a specialist in the subject. "Professor McGonagall, in The Pocket Guide to Animagi it says the form of an Animagus is determined by the witch or wizard's personality and each person can have only one form. How is it you can be a gray cat and an ogre?"
The old woman looked somewhat embarrassed but managed a smile. "You mean like this?" And there before the boy was the ogre he had seen before. It spoke to him with her voice. "I'm afraid you caught me losing my temper when you and your parents visited. I really should apologize to your father, his behavior was quite understandable under the circumstances." Then the old woman was back. "The cat IS my Animagi form, the ogre is mere illusion. But you must admit it is most effective."
The school year flew by. Students not that scholarly threw themselves into sports. With Ron assisting the brooms mistress she was able to organize an activities program for all the students who had completed first year flight training. Even the Weasley twins were finding little time for pranks.
Unlike most students West and Hermione felt no temptation to search out the cause of concern in the Forbidden Forest or the east wing on the third floor. She had been trained since birth to follow all rules. He on the other hand had learned to view all rules with suspicion. But three summers in the Utility Cadets had hammered home the importance of safety and the regulations on these two items smacked of OSHA.
The favored place held by a few students began to weigh on certain other students, students who were used to privileges of birth rather than reward of a job well done, Draco Malfoy among that lot. For most of his life he gotten special favors by simply saying, "Lucius Malfoy is my father." He had been all but guaranteed an easy ride in Potions under his own head of house.
But Severus Snape seemed not to have been notified. "Mr. Malfoy, is that the best you can do?" was frequently heard in the dungeons. In truth, it pained him sorely to have to favor the house of his arch rivals, but taking the foreigner to his bosom had increased his productivity without much extra effort on his part. His next performance review should be stellar.
One day at lunch Malfoy confronted West. "You think you're something special, don't you, Westinghouse? Well you're nothing. You're less than nothing. You're a peasant from a long line of peasants and all your descendants will be peasants."
"Why thank you, Draco."
"What?" Malfoy looked taken aback and rather confused.
"Farmers, these 'peasants' as you call them, are the anchor of the food chain. You remember from elementary, err, primary school, this little ditty.
When the banker says he's broke
When the merchant's up in smoke
Still the farmer is the man who feeds them all
It would put them to the test if the farmer took a rest
For the farmer is the man who feeds them all
The farmer is the man, the farmer is the man
He lives on credit till the fall
With the interest rates so high
It's a wonder he don't die
But the farmer is the man who feeds them all
"I never heard such tosh," Malfoy answered coldly.
West considered. Of course, the rich would have been raised with a different perspective. "Well Draco, let's just say that I glory in the label of Productive Member of Society." Just the sound of the words slid him into a comfortable pride.
The Slytherin mimed spitting on the floor of the Great Hall. He was tempted to do it for real but the last thing he needed was more demerits. "It's time somebody put you in your place. I challenge you to a Wizards Duel."
Before West could say "What's that," Ron jumped in. "I'll be his second. Who's yours?"
Nodding to one of his henchmen, "Crabbe. Meet us in the Trophy Room at midnight, if you're not scared." He left smirking.
"Ron, what the blue blazes is this about? What do you mean, 'Wizards' Duel?'"
"Don't worry about it West. You can't hurt each other, you'll just throw sparks. And you can beat him. It's just like an old west shoot out. You'll get the drop on him and BAM!"
West held his forehead. "Ron, I know you don't listen in class, but I thought you were listening to me. I'm a CITY boy. I've never held a gun. And a duel isn't the same thing anyway. For one thing, we need a referee."
"A REFEREE?! You mean a TEACHER?"
"Doesn't have to be, any authority figure will do. Your brother Percy's a prefect; he'd serve." Ron's sour look showed little familial affection. "But Draco would say he was prejudiced toward his own house. Yeah, we need a teacher. And the only one we'd all agree on is Professor Snape."
"Snape? Are you bonkers? He hates us! He hates all Gryffindors!"
"I'm not so sure. Since I've been helping him out instead of glaring at him and calling him a prat behind his back, he's proved to be a pretty square dealer." He hesitated before offering Ron his speculation. "Uh, maybe he always was or had it in him to be but each new class came in expecting him to be a beast. If they covered it as well as we have, he couldn't help but notice and respond in kind."
"Well, then, Malfoy will say he favors you for all the help you give him."
"Oh Malfoy will think it, alright, but he won't dare say it. Snape's ego demands people tell him he's honest and forthright, especially when he isn't. An outburst like that will be just the thing to push him over the edge and give Draco detention. Most likely the first Slytherin to get it since he started teaching."
Ron still looked like he was on his way to the dentist (Hermione looked over the author's shoulder and demanded, "What's wrong with dentists?) but went along with West as he went up to the faculty table. Snape was just finishing up as they arrived.
"Excuse me, sir."
"Ah, Mr. Westinghouse. What is it? Is there something wrong with the lab?"
"No sir, it's a personal matter. Draco has challenged me to a wizard's duel and we need a referee."
Snape's eyes popped open. "A DUEL?! What nonsense is this? First years don't duel. I should give you detention just for asking. Uh, you said Mr. Malfoy challenged you?"
"Yes sir. The Trophy Room tonight at midnight, with Messrs Crabbe and Weasley as our seconds."
"Midnight? After curfew? Are there any rules at all you plan to keep?" He heaved a great sigh. "Maybe detention isn't the way to go with this problem. Maybe I should let you two go ahead and blast away at each other until you've had your fill, might teach you both a lesson. Be ready at eleven thirty at the portal to your common room. I'll bring Malfoy and Crabbe along, but not the Trophy Room, you might break something. I'll take you to a room on the seventh floor. It's normally off limits to first years but I'll write out a pass for all of you. I've got to get to class." And he left.