Alright, guys!

So I'm rewriting "The Bargain," so that hopefully now I may have a clearer direction of what I'm doing, and that the story may flow a bit more smoothly. Trying my best to improve and keep this error-free, so if you find any, don't be scared to shoot me a note! The title has been obviously changed.

The air hung thick with tension. Tension so palpable, so condescending and discriminating, it was almost overbearing. Minerva McGonagall was sure that if looks could kill, one of her two most stellar students – both of them, really – would be six feet under by now. Once upon a time, the man who would have sat in the chair she occupied now; high and imposing behind the long wooden desk when in comparison to the placement of the other two – this man, always with a quick smile to his face and a permanent twinkle in his eye, would have found most enjoyment out of this situation. He would have found the current exchange of hatred and displeasure interesting and hilarious, to say the least. McGonagall did not. She had never had the patience that professor Dumbledore was able to exert while he was headmaster, nor did she particularly have any of his good natured humor. In fact, she was quite exasperated as she watched the blonde young man and fervent brunette shoot daggers at each other with their gaze. Good natured humor, indeed. If only.

Some amusement, although very dry on its own standing, could be drawn from all of this. McGonagall, always a stickler for tradition, had ensured that the students whose educations were interrupted by the war had a fair chance at graduating. She had pleaded again and again with the Ministry of Magic, and after enough persuasion they had consented. For once since the war did the Ministry see that students' getting a proper education was by no means a threat to organized government, but an aid; after all, what would become of Wizarding England if the next wave of wizards and witches could not perform basic spells to begin with? And so, the Ministry convinced parents to let their children return to Hogwarts to repeat their school year; those who were already of age were invited as cordially as possible to join as well. Hermione Granger, now sitting in front of her, was thrilled to accept upon first notice. Mr. Malfoy's mother had to be persuaded a bit more.

The girl's fists were now balled up on her lap as she put all of her might into a staring contest with Draco Malfoy, who was sitting rather stoically, yet with a glare of his own.

This had been going on for far too long.

"I am safe to assume by your silence, then, that you two accept?" asked professor McGonagall. This had seemed to be too much to ask. The previous bickering started immediately.

"Professor, you must certainly be mistaken!" cried a desperate Hermione, looking bewildered as her gaze broke away from Mr. Malfoy's.

"Believe it or not, Granger, there are people in this world who can appreciate me," Draco supplied, spitting out Hermione's last name as if he simply had prevented himself from saying something far more inappropriate in front of the Headmistress. McGonagall had no chance to respond to the statement that had been clearly directed towards her, so she watched on.

"Oh, yeah? You mean like your Death Eater of a father?" Hermione bit harshly, color rising quickly to her cheeks. Draco's receded to pure white.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione looked up, a mixture of surprise, fear, and self disapproval creeping on her features. She had obviously let her anger loose in the heat of the moment. The look of disappointment on McGonagall's face was enough to shame the girl into silence. Good.

This was dry amusement, indeed. McGonagall had always tried, much like every other person on staff before her – except perhaps for professor Snape and Salazar Slytherin himself – to preserve and encourage House friendship and cooperation. Yet, here she was with the two students who were most unlikely to ever cooperate with each other, much less create a friendship. Hermione Granger was a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and anger. Draco Malfoy was obviously seething in his spot. McGonagall could only assume, and did not want to really find out, what was going through his head at the moment.

"I am sorry, Ms. Granger, that you dislike what I've proposed," she said, to which Hermione opened her mouth, ready to say something. McGonagall put her hand up and continued, determined not to be interrupted just yet. "However, I feel as though the post of Head Girl and Head Boy should be given to the two who were most deserving in academic standard."

Both of them looked up at the Headmistress, one in defeat, the other one in obvious pride. Hermione Granger did not like knowing that somebody else could rival her intelligence and grades, much less being told about it. The young man standing there; still pale, and with what appeared to be fists shoved into his pockets; seemed to smirk with pride for a passing second before he scowled back at Ms. Granger. McGonagall inwardly cringed at the words that followed out of her own mouth:

"You may, as you know, resign this post if you really find such objections to the job, Ms. Granger."

The dignified huff that came out of the girl was all McGonagall needed. You can take the girl out of Gryffindor, but you can't take Gryffindor out of the girl. She knew instantly that Hermione would not back out, and felt a pride inside of her resembling that of a mother hen seeing its first chick come out of the egg. To expect anything less of a Gryffindor would be to deny her own legacy as the Head of House for the lions: a title that she held in feverish pride, even though it had been passed onto another professor.

Draco looked disappointed. He quipped, "And here I was about to do a little victory dance, Granger; pity."

Hermione glared at him with such a passion, that she turned several shades of red – and this time it wasn't due to embarrassment. "I'd rather jump off the astronomy tower first, Malfoy, than hand over the position I've worked so hard for all these years because of you."

"Be my guest."

"Bite me."

"That's disgusting – you probably taste rotten, much like your bloo-"

"Children!"

She was ready to pull her graying hair out. These two would probably make her hair go white in the blink of an eye if she didn't get them to shut up. She'd be glad to have them out of her office.

"That is enough, Mr. Malfoy! Watch your mouth, 'lest you want me to enchant a soap bar into washing it for the next millennia. And you, Ms. Granger – I expected better behavior!" she gave them a glare that made them both shrink in their seats; Hermione looked as though her ego was positively deflated. "I am asking you; please act like the grown up you claim to be!"

She looked at Malfoy; he was not getting off the hook so easily. "As for you, Mr. Malfoy – you know very well that this is not up for discussion. Be thankful that the only duties and time you'll be serving are here within this castle and not with your father."

The smug smirk he had directed towards Hermione got wiped off his face so fast that she would have missed it had she batted an eyelash. The nagging feeling inside her told her that she should be cautious with her words to her students. It kept on creeping up, and she had tried her best to stay neutral, but sometimes – enough was enough. In all truth, Draco Malfoy was only here so that he may avoid a darker sentence in Azkaban, and right now she had no problem in reminding him of it.

"Do I make myself clear?" she asked one last time. Both students nodded resentfully, but remained quiet. She sat back down; she hadn't noticed that she had sprung up from her chair at the inappropriate conversation.

"Now, as for living arrangements: you," she looked over both, almost in warning, "will be sharing a common room for the year. Your belongings have been placed in your respective rooms."

A collective groan from both was heard, but it was obvious they had no intention of arguing – as much as their faces betrayed how much it took out of them to not do so. She ignored them.

"You will be sharing the bathroom with the prefects, as we have of yet to create a decent bathroom within your quarters. I am sorry about this." Both nodded. McGonagall could have sworn they looked rather relieved. Well, Ms. Granger looked relieved, Mr. Malfoy quickly masked whatever expression he was about to let on.

"Well, now…are there any more questions?"

Silence.

"Well, then. Off you go."

They both stood, giving each other a wide berth to ensure that whatever it was they hated about the other did not rub off on them. McGonagall nearly rolled her eyes. Hermione went first, stomping her way out of the office, with Malfoy following behind, lax in his step yet his stance was stiffer than ever.

Merlin, was she glad to have them out of her office. She looked on at the portrait of a sleeping Dumbledore, and asked with a sigh, "How did you do it, Albus?" but the only response she was met with was a series of soft, breathy snores, from what was now only a shadow copy of the previous headmaster.

Ok, so what do you guys think so far?