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The Chemical Reactions of Hermione seeing Harry's Quidditch Pants Off. -- By Hermione Granger. You asked for a report. An extra credit report to be exact on whatever subject we take interest in. A free reign, you proclaimed my dear professor. Sure this might not have been what you had in mind. But you never specified on what. Okay, I get that as a student, Head Girl to the eye, you might expect some high standards from me. I even expect them myself, so you are not alone in this utter delusion. But sometimes surprises can be a good thing. I can personally attest that they are very good things. But that is later on in the report that you are surely reading with an attentive eye. The title might have widened up your eyes, did it not? Even as I write this up, my gut is wrenching in anxiety. You must know that I have never done any of this sort before, contrary to the gossip of me being portrayed as some scarlet woman. Maybe that is what prompted this change. This need to prove myself by doing something different from what is expected of me. From attentive bookworm to feisty peeping Tom. Though, that can be taking the titles bequeathed upon oneself a bit too harsh. Look at me dragging through the mud here. You asked for a full on report. Details to the exact microscopic point of said subject. Lab report? Done. Analysis? Complete. Data/Table charts? Right on the dot. Though, all these necessities brought on a different aspect to the report. Sure it began with a lingering thought—recurring thought that would not let me be. Until I acknowledged it and just let it be brought out of my system. What a better way than to kill two birds with one stone. No, do not squint at this, professor. It is a mere Muggle saying. Excuse my rambling, but this is the part where I drown you with suspense. Yes, it might be a tad cruel of me, but you need to know my thoughts on this. What exactly does Potions have to do with Harry’s Quidditch pants? Professor, I can be the first to actually admit that learning can be found everywhere. Also that Harry educated me well...if you know what I mean. Now without further ado, my report. __________________________________ Day One: Summary: After close observation and noticing the hungry stares of many females, I have determined that Harry looks good in Quidditch pants. Observing the stands the day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, I am firm in my belief that ‘sex gods’ are the ones responsible for the bringing hoards of females. At least that is what a girl sputtered out with drool hanging out her mouth. I will keep her identity secret to maintain privacy. I scoffed at the mention of this. After all, where was the loyalty to their favorite sport? It seems that it is centered upon the star players. Male star players, to be precise. Now professor you must remember I have a good head on my shoulders. I do not obsess over those Teen Witch magazines that are sighted everywhere in the girl dorms; Nor do I follow in these ridiculous fads that last five seconds. But Quidditch, the bloody sport, changes everything. Especially when a wizard named Harry Potter is involved in it. I was just sitting there idly on the bench propped upon the particular stand I was temporarily taking residence in. I did not say a word or give any misgivings on whether I had intentions other than simply watching a spectacular match. After all, we want to keep the subjects comfortable. The witch beside me was watching the same scene as I with a slight drool. Nothing overly dramatic you may say. I would not have noticed it were it not for my casual asking on what she thought of the prospects of the match. It was only when she began talking did a piece of it lodge itself near my eye. With great disgust I acknowledged and put up with it. Thank goodness for magic! You would never know how useful the scourgify spell really is until you find yourself doing undercover work such as this. Anyway, it wasn't until the main subject flew in close to my proximity, did I get a tremendous reaction. The girl, I shall name as subject X, shrieked in my ear and the females standing close by rose only to give a flirtatious grin and a slight hair toss. What was it exactly that caused this? That was what I was encouraged to find out. After interviewing countless subjects on their input, I came to a conclusion. Quidditch Pants. Yes, that is what the squealing arose over. Why? My interview with one subject placed below can summarize that for you. Please take note of the exclamation marks. * Subject: Like are you blind?!? Did you not see that bulge in the pants!?! Never have I been so angry at the mounds of clothes the school uniform requires! * It seems that these tight fitting pants allow the details of puberty to show more prominently among the male athletes. These Quidditch players are after all no slackers in the physical department. Most were quite pleasing to the eye. Yes, Mister Potter filled out remarkably. You must take notice of this. The sinewy muscles were there, but not bulging so much to discourage the ravish female attention. Instead, his lean and confident posture attracted the female population like a bee to a flower. This has me insisting on using such silly similes to describe the attraction that just emits from our young and delicious Mister Potter. In addition to that,  his shy boyish smile made the young woman next to me positively swoon. I personally felt my knees buckle a bit. Yet, I still think that was a reflex my knee had when the first year toppled on top of me. Really they are getting quite pesky! I swear that I never would have voiced off such phrases that came out of subject Y’s mouth at that age. If you must know the loud proclamation contained the words: Harry, pants, and off. What exactly is the world coming to? By Merlin, these thoughts only occurred to me in fifth year when he bent over and—I am getting ahead of myself. To conclude Day One’s report: Harry looks damn good in Quidditch pants. _____________________ Day Two: Summary: I have determined that I like Harry sweating after Quidditch practice. Perhaps it was rather obstinate of me to not delve in these kinds of affairs. I turned a blind eye when my roommates gossiped on celebrity doings. As if I gave a bleeding thought on Celestina’s sorrid affairs! Though what I failed to notice right away was that if celebrity lives were the main point in such conversation amongst the Hogwarts female population, local celebrities are sure to be tackled by them. Poor Harry never stood a chance. His unofficial fan club positively hounded on him. The poor lad would turn to me and question where he misplaced a quill or such. Ron even let it out that a pair of boxer briefs had gone missing from Harry’s trunk. Now I was just confused as to how Ron knew of this. But he gave me the male shrug as if it was common news. It was later on that I neared a near catatonic subject did I digress and hand over the said boxer briefs back to the rightful owner. I have never been so hexed in my life by someone. I had to stay at the Hospital Wing afterward for a complete two hours! The subject did not apologize for her behavior and dismissed her actions by commenting: * Subject: Have you no decency? Are you mad? Those boxers were worn on the last Quidditch match! That means recent sweat! * Decency? For Merlin’s sake this is coming from someone who steals underclothing from unsuspecting victims! * Subject: He was just asking for it with those cute apple bottom cheeks of his! * Pardon my obvious astonished expression at that. It seems that subjects observe more than what is presented to the public. And people are envious of Harry? Lord, the poor daft git has to now lock his trunk with spells Dumbledore personally cast on it. Isn’t that a sign of the insanity brewing amongst the female population? It was during one of these moments in which I pondered on how to rectify the situation, that he walked in. Normally you do not notice entrances to the noisy Gryffindor common room. But Harry just glowed for attention, though he did his best to dispel this. I was so enamored by him, as the rest of the young women in close proximity. I tried my best to be aloof and indifferent to this Man Veela in front of me. Goodness! Did he know what that lopsided smile of his caused? It should be illegal to turn someone into putty with just one flash of his brilliant straight teeth. Lockhart never looked that good. Pshaw! Who the hell is Lockhart compared to Harry? All I could do was stare at him. His soft plush pink lips. He was saying something, but for once my brain could not process the words. All my attention was drawn to how his mouth opened and shut and dear lord! Was that his tongue flicking out to moisten them? I suddenly found the room getting warm. Curse the first years for playing near the fire and doing something to it! Damn it! The words from one of the subjects echoed around my head. Something about sweat and Harry. Only when I stood transfixed by him did I fully comprehend why one would resort to such drastic actions of stealing boxers. Sweat looked good on Harry. The sweat glistening on down his face looked like a sort of accessory. Something he deliberately spritzed on. It looked nothing like something the body disgustingly does after extensive physical activity. Only when he shook me softly with those graceful hands of his did I then bolt up the girl dormitories and head for a cold shower. Sweat never looked so good. ________________________ Day Three: Summary: No one else may look at Harry in quidditch pants except me. I thought I recovered a bit from the Slytherin and Gryffindor match. After a few days I was back to my normal Head Girl self. Everything was as normal as can be. I avoided the Quidditch practices so nothing more would bring out a side of me I am slightly scared of. The one that would comment on Harry’, parts. I mean I should not concentrate on that. I have officially named this suggestive side of mine: Innuendo. And no, I am not schizophrenic. Just a tad original. No, I am not mental. Special, I say. Damn it! At least I named it and live at peace with the voices in my head! Where was I? I am really veering off topic here. Oh yes. Avoidance of spectacular tight fitting and clinging-like pants should not be attempted. Especially on such a fine specimen as Harry. An unfortunate Harry just does not know of revolution he causes when he does not change out of those pants right away. When he shifts in them, the cloth just clings on like some second skin. And by Merlin, it is just taunting me! I almost fear that Harry knows what is going on. That he is doing these things on purpose. But then I know my daft git is well daft when it comes to these situations. Also terror was crawling up my spine. My emotions were getting in the way of my business relationship. I should be neutral and just observe. But professor you should understand that lately Innuendo has twisted my words so much that the other professors worry I have run a fever! This damn blushing just will not stop. I have tried countless potions and some work. Though, I do not want to drug myself into oblivion! I subordinately asked a young witch on how she handled the same circumstance I found myself facing. * Subject: Oh bless you! You think you can get rid of this? Like it is some disease? <insert cackling> That is just cute. * So all in all, I received no advice for a cure. The most I can do was to avoid looking at Harry when he gets back from practice. But it near impossible to avoid the after parties of his Quidditch matches. He just glows with happiness and swings me around in some victory dance in the middle of the field or the Common Room. How can I deny him to use me as some hug source? Especially when after the whole swinging episode he pulls me back and grins... It is during these moments in which my nose is almost in contact with his. And I can stare endlessly into his emerald eyes. His eyes... Oh dear professor just do not get me started on those luminous eyes of his. I can feel a flurry of butterflies in my belly just at the mere memory of them. Tell me how is it possible for him to inherit ‘green as a freshly caught frog’ eyes? It is lethal to have them in close proximity with a woman that is on hormone overdrive! But it seems that I am not the only one enraptured by Mister Potter in this way. Of course I noticed how his fan club is a tad obsessed with him. Though they had no permission to stare at him in some predatory way. That is my job. Oh drat, professor just ignore that last sentence. Needless to say I did not appreciate the looks these women were giving my best friend, but that is not relevant to the study. Another day passes us by. ____________________________________ Day Four: Summary: Harry’s Quidditch pants are mine. I was casual and aloof once again. I regained my sense of conduct and reasoned that my past thoughts were not appropriate. However, all that just washed away when I decided to take a walk out in the fields. I was tired of sitting there and interviewing subjects. I needed to take a breather and appreciate the Scottish lands surrounding Hogwarts. I was simply admiring the green landscape and even thought of conversing with Hagrid. But it seemed my feet just had a mind of their own. Somehow my traitorous legs carried me to the Quidditch field right after practice. As if they were planning this the whole time! Out Harry walked alongside his teamates. They were all chuckling over something. I found that I did not care. My eyes fixed upon Harry’s face. And by Merlin, he was sweating. Of course I have already showed you my views on Harry sweating. Some Neanderthal instinct encompassed me. That dominant feeling that is hard to suppress. Just seeing Harry holding a broomstick and having his legs being hugged by those darn pants made me growl. I have never been so envious of a pair of pants before. I had no control over my actions. I found myself stomping over to a clueless Harry. Did he know what he did to me? He even had the nerve to look at me funny and question why I had some glint in my eye. As if the git did not know! I was only suppose to observe and calculate reactions. Never did I imagine myself fitting in my report and being one of the subjects. Yet, this feeling of sheer curiosity and lust made me dare to experiment. After all, what a better way to analyze my whole project by experiencing it myself. My mind was made up. Those Quidditch pants were coming off. That was final and I will hear no other end to it. I should warn you that I am a stubborn person when I am determined on something. I dragged said subject into some quarters I made sure only he and I were in. Needless to say, my hands were active participants in exploring Harry’s body. That is all you need to know. _______________________________ In conclusion, unexpected relevations resulted from this project. I must apologize for the lack of detail in my final analysis. Though, if you must know, I was a bit preoccupied with different matters. Hopefully you will excuse that part and acknowledge the beginning. Although I must thank you professor for encouraging this. Harry and I are utterly grateful that you invoked this side of me. ______________________________________ As fascinating as it may be to determine if Mr. Potter is anatomically correct, frankly I expected more from you, Miss Granger. Though, you have now convinced me that I should specify exactly what I mean, so I won’t be bombarded with these sickening reports of lovers rendezvous and Quidditch pants. Also may I ask where the chemical part of this report is? However, you did hand in all that is required and provided circumstantial details. Which, might I add, I don’t think my mind will ever recover from. I shall give this an... Acceptable. I am being lenient Miss Granger. I expect none of these kind of reports in the future. Keep those in a diary or something of the sort, and let them remain there! Sincerely, Professor Snape  Hermione looked at the rubric. “He gave me an Acceptable for it. It figures.” “Not bad, Hermione,” Harry told her, giving her that accursed heart-stopping grin. “‘Acceptable’ is just fine for me. That report deserves more, though. An ‘Excellent’ or ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ at most. That’s the best report there is on Quidditch Pants.” “Not to sound egotistic or anything, but it certainly is,” Hermione agreed. “Very elaborate and detailed,” Harry couldn’t resist saying, carefully taking the paper away from her. Hermione could only look at him wide-eyed. “Of – of course it would be,” she managed to say, rather flustered. She didn’t notice that the paper was gone; all she was focused on right now was Harry. “Now that we’ve gotten that over with, we can now focus on ourselves,” Harry murmured, softly caressing her face. Hermione’s heart was pounding crazily in her throat. “Yes, we can.” She smiled impishly. And so Hermione busied herself with Harry’s absolutely maddening Quidditch Pants for the rest of the night. ________________________ A/N: The whole thing just came out of nowhere. Seriously, the plot bunny hopped by when I was chatting with Nitya and Nielle. I was annoying them about my writer’s block with one of my stories. It was during my thoughts on one of my drabbles did my instant message get mixed up with Nitya’s of chemistry. Nielle came up with the title and Nitya wrote out the end. Writing like this is definitely a new thing for me and it might be the last. Anyway I want to thank MD for going through it. Obviously my grammar last night was just horrible and you had to go through it.

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