Damn it, Harry!

- Why did you do that?

- I didn't do it.

- You know that noone believes it. I don't believe it.

Harry stared at Mrs Granger with a blank facial expression for couple of seconds and then sighed heavily. Noone has ever believed him and he got used to it a long time ago. He didn't care about it anyway.

A thick silence took over the entire room, which was, in Harry's opinion the most depressing place in the entire world. And he had seen a lot of them.

Everything in the room was supposed to make him feel comfortable, but somehow it managed to achieve compldetely opposite effect. Colorful walls were causing him a headache after he was staring at them for too long, his chair was way too soft and comfortable, so he couldn't sit straight. Instead he was just sinking into its soft pillows, making him feel so small. He hated it. He hated everything about this stupid room, with its stupid paintings, he hated the way Mrs Granger's calm voice was spreading around it, he hated that it sounded as if she was talking to some child and he was not a child.

Whatever people wanted to call him: rude, irresponsible, careless, disrespectful, ungracious, arrogant, vulgar, blunt and whatever-else-came-to-their-mind - they were all right. Most likely. But he wasn't a child. Not since a long time ago.

- Harry, I don't understand why you are doing all this - Mrs Granger's calm voice broke the silence. - One more stupid move and you'll end up in a juvenile ha-

- Because of drawing a dick on some stupid door?

- Not some door, but vice-principal's one! - the woman raised her voice. Harry looked at the watch in front of him. Seven minutes into their discussion. That must have been some kind of a record.

- Professor Snape has a huge connections all over the city and his one word might ruin your entire future - her eyes softened a little when she looked at him. - Trust me Harry, you don't want to end up in a juvenile hall. You. Don't. Belong there.

Harry almost laughed at these words. Funny how she wanted to make him believe in all that after he heard from everyone for years that the juvenile hall is exactly where he belongs. But he guessed she had said this exact same sentence to everyone she's ever worked with. She was a social worker, after all.

- Well, Snape hates me, so I guess there's no hope for me anyway - he said calmly and with satisfaction caught Mrs Granger's annoyed look.

- Listen, Harry - she started, looking as if she was using all of the self-control she had left. - I understand that you have some kind of a problematic family life-

Harry snorted sarcastically. That must have been an understatement of the decade.

The woman ignored him and continued with even more composed voice. - You live with your aunt and uncle, right? - Harry opened his mouth, but she didn't wait for his answer. - Madame Principal told me that Mr. Dursley might have some problems with alcohol, is that right?

This was the question Harry certainly didn't want to answer, but Mrs. Granger didn't continue her speech and was looking at him with a questioning expression on her face.

- Oh, he doesn't have any problems with alcohol, he loves it. He just has problems with everything else. Especially me.

She didn't like this kind of an answer and he knew it perfectly well.

- I don't understand why you don't let anyone help you, Mr. Potter - she finally said and Harry knew what it meant. Mrs. Granger gave up on trying to reeducate him: now she's gonna stop calling him by his first name, speaking with this annoying soft voice, bringing cookies and making tea at their meetings. She finally has had enough of Harry James Potter.

- Cause I don't need any help - he simply said, standing up and looking at her with a defiant expression on his face. Challenging her to deny his words. She didn't.

- Go to the caretaker and ask for some rag and detergent. Wash this stupid drawing away, before Professor Snape will see it - she said in a hollow voice. - He should be in school in 45 minutes.

- I told you I didn't do-

- Do as you're told!

Harry pursed his lips so tightly, that he could compete with Aunt Petunia, refraining from replying with thousands of different answers stucked in his head. Instead, he turned around and went out into the corridor, slamming the door as hard as he could.

At least he didn't say anything stupid. That was already some progress.

***

The drawing was not coming off.

Harry was scrubbing the exact same spot for the last ten minutes and nothing seemed to change. Except for his hands, which were currently all prickled from the detergent.

His thoughts were wandering all around his mind, when he was trying to find some interesting topic he could focus on, just not to get bored from this laborious work.

But nothing seemed to come, so he just started trying to scrub harder, his hands were already burning from that stupid detergent and he didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't focus on anything else, just like it always was and just like Aunt Petunia always complained, he was just stubborn and stupid and-

- Why are you doing this? - he jumped at the sound of the voice and turned around to look at its owner.

The girl with a bushy hair, that seemed to make her head two times bigger than it actually was, was looking at him with surprise and a little anger on her face.

Well, that wasn't anything new.

- Oh, it's just a hobby of mine - he said with a sarcastic tone. - Obviously I was told to wash it away.

She glared at him and Harry shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. What exactly was her problem?

- But you didn't draw it - the girl simply said and Harry suddenly felt the need to tell her to lose herself. He's already been annoyed and didn't need to be reminded of that.

- How do you know? - he said instead. Acting stupid was always the safest option.

- Because I did it.

Harry smiled indulgently. He looked at the girl, with her tidy school uniform, tight tie, shiny shoes and a bag, stuffed with some heavy books. But yet, she was looking at him defiantly, as if she was only waiting for him to deny it. And Harry didn't feel like arguing right now.

- And why would you do that? - he asked calmly.

- He's a sexist. And a mysogynist. Professor Snape, I mean.

- Well, that explains everything - Harry said with a little laugh and gladly observed the annoyed look on her face.

She didn't say anything to that, but was just standing there, stabbing him with her gaze.

- Are you that new girl? - Harry asked, coming back to his work. It was easier to scrub while he could talk to someone. - The one with this fancy name? What was it aga-

‐ Hermione - she interrupted him. - And it won't come off with this thing you use, I dra-

- I hate to break it to you, but your parents had to be truly unhappy with your birth if they named you something like this.

- It's from William Shakespeare, you idiot - she said through clenched teeth. - The-

- Winter's Tale, I know - Harry suddenly turned around. - I was just playing with you.

Hermione stood there for a moment with opened mouth and Harry waited for her to say something like you don't look like you'd know this.

- Anyway, you can just leave it to me - she suddenly said, taking a step closer to him. - Go back to your classes.

In every other situation Harry would be over the moon with this opportunity to escape, but her teacher-like tone of voice threw him off. So he stayed.

- How are you gonna wash it away? - he asked suspiciously. - You've just said it won't come off.

- Who said I'm gonna wash it away? - she answered, reaching for the detergent he had in his hand. Harry stepped back and raised his arm, putting it out of her reach.

- I can't let you do that.

- Why not?

Harry sighed and looked at her pityingly. Wasn't she supposed to be smart? A swot, even?

- Because - he said slowly, as if he was talking to a child. - That would put me in trouble. And I can't afford it right now.

She spat and said with the same tone he did before:

- It won't put you in trouble, because it was me who did it.

- And you think anyone's gonna believe it? - that Hermione was starting to annoy him more and more. - Do you think Snape, who despises me since the day I stepped into this school is going to believe that the girl who looks like a swot with straght As at all her tests did it instead of someone like me, who can't even write his name straight? I think the aswer is obvious.

She stared at him for some time and then stepped back, nodding her head.

- If that's what you want - she said slowly. - But the drawing is not gonna come off. I asked the cashier for the strongest marker they had and she gave me this one.

Hermione showed him a marker - at least she had the decency to look apologising.

- It would only come off because of some special detergent, but I didn't buy it.

That was not a good information. Harry looked at the girl with disbelief and then sighed, streeking for the marker.

- Give it to me - he said heavily, only one idea was stucked in his mind.

- What do you wanna do? - she asked suspiciously, but did what he said.

- What do you think? - he snapped at her. - I'm gonna try drawing something on this art of yours. So at least it doesn't look like a dick.

- I can help-

- No. Just... go away. Before someone sees us together - it sounded rude, but he couldn't care less.

- Am I embarassing you? - Hermione asked sharply.

- Maybe - he said, just to annoy her. - But the bigger question is: am I destroying your reputation?

She didn't answer, only shrugged and stared at the drawing.

- Aren't you suppose to have English classes in just a few minutes? With this new teacher? - she asked instead.

Now it was time for Harry to shrug. - Maybe. But I've never really cared about English classes. Or about making good first impressions on a new teachers. I might have never made a good first impression in my entire life.

- You didn't make a bad one on me - Hermione said and blushed right after words escaped her mouth.

Harry laughed and looked at her in disbelief.

- Your lie is so obvious, that even Sprout wouldn't fall for it. - he said, starting drawing on Snape's door. - I didn't even tell you my name.

- So what is it, Troublemaker? - she asked quickly.

- Harry - he answered, before the bell announced the start of a lesson. - Just Harry.

The last thing he heard was the sound of Hermione's steps as she walked back to her class. Harry took a deep breath, looked at the Snape's door and started his drawing. Yes, he was doomed, but what was the worst thing that could happen to him?

And just like that, 20 minutes later he finally finished his work, proudly staring at something he would call the best artwork of his life.

Unfortunately, Snape wasn't as happy about his caricature on his office's doors later that day.