Dracaena Draco

CHAPTER FOUR. THE TRIALS OF DRACO.

To say that Hermione's curiosity had been aroused by the article she had found whilst clearing out Doctor Jones' office would be to make a gross understatement. The very next day, which, as luck would have it was a Sunday, she disappeared off to the Library straight after breakfast, and didn't appear until dinnertime. Harry and Ron were not especially perturbed by this ... Hermione seemed to spend most of her free time in the Library anyway. At dinner that evening, she barely spoke a word to either of them ... and instead kept glancing across the Hall in the direction of the Slytherin table, where Draco was sitting, looking utterly miserable. Occasionally the others would flick bits of food at him. Neither Harry nor Ron had actually noticed that Draco appeared to be in a state of some anguish... he had taken to wandering the castle on his own, without even Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione, however, was beginning to get worried about him, and secretly was hoping this didn't mean she was attracted only to vulnerable men.

Monday morning saw an area of low pressure moving in from the Atlantic, bringing with it thick, grey clouds and pouring rain. Their first class that morning was Care of Magical Creatures, with Hagrid's replacement, the mysterious Xavier Wilmot, whom nobody had actually seen.As bad luck would have it, the Gryffindors and Slytherins had once again been put together, and so, at a quarter past nine, they dutifully pulled on wellingtons and waterproofs to squelch down the hill to Hagrid's little hut ...only to find that Xavier Wilmot had moved them inside due to the inclement climate.

Xavier Wilmot turned out to be a tall, lanky figure with a beard so thick that it looked ... to them, almost unreal. He was grinning broadly at them, and there was a certain glint in his wide, staring eyes that seemed very familiar to Harry, who was sure he had seen the face somewhere before. He was about to open his mouth to speak, but Wilmot chose that moment to call for silence.

"Sorry about the weather," hebegan ... his voice gruff and faintly unnerving. "I was planning on doing alittle outdoor practical work today, but we seem to have been thwarted.Anyway," he looked around the assembled class, and Harry, for the briefestof seconds, could have sworn that his gaze alighted on him. Of course he wasused to it ... everyone who met him couldn't help being interested ... onHarry's first day, Professor Flitwick had got so excited he fell off his chair.This time, however, Harry looked hurriedly away. "My name is Xavier Wilmot,and in the absence of your usual teacher, I will be taking your Care of MagicalCreatures class this term. We will be beginning work that will lead you up toyour OWL's, probably the singularly most important exams you will take atHogwarts. It will be your OWL's that decide your future career prospects, aswell as what subjects you will choose to study to advanced level, for yourNEWT's, at the end of the Upper Sixth Form ... so I really cannot impress on youthe importance of the coming months," Harry was certain Wilmot was lookingat him again. He shuffled his feet nervously.

"We will be starting this term withwork on tricorns. A tricorn, as I am sure you by now know from your holidayreading," again, he cast his eyes across the class. Harry had done theholiday reading, but he noticed that both Draco and Ron were looking at thefloor, nervously. "Is a close relative of the unicorn, distinguishable bythree horns on its head ... instead of the usual one, hence the name. Cananybody tell me why tricorns are so rare?"

Hermione's hand was already in the air.

"Hermione?" said Wilmot, turningto her. This struck Harry as being slightly odd, for he hadn't actually beentold any of their names yet. Nobody else seemed to have noticed.

"They were hunted to the verge ofextinction last century," said Hermione. "Their horns possess healingpowers, and there is no stigma associated with killing them ... as there is withunicorns."

"Correct," said Wilmot."Two points to Gryffindor. Can anybody tell me where they are to be foundin the wild?"

Hermione was waving her hand about in theair, but this time, Wilmot passed her by. "Harry?"

Harry, who hadn't been listening, gave astart, and looked up. "Sorry, sir?"

"Were you listening to a word I wassaying?" asked Wilmot. "Where do tricorns live in the wild?"

"Spain?" guessed Harry ... hiscuriosity again awakened as to exactly how Wilmot knew his name, when to thebest of his knowledge; he had not actually been told it.

Wilmot shook his head. "Be thankfulI'm not taking points from Gryffindor, Harry ... you of all people must be awareof the need to pay attention in your lessons. Hermione? Enlighten usplease."

"Central Asia," said Hermione."The Pamir and Hindu Kush mountain ranges, Iran, as well as in the formerSoviet republics of Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan."

"That is correct," said Wilmot."Thank you, Hermione. What properties do the horns possess? Ron Weasley,perhaps?"

Ron, who had been surreptitiously pickinghis nose, looked up. "Are they good for rheumatism?" he asked,sounding unsure of himself.

"That, and two other things,"said Wilmot. "When mixed with certain other ingredients, the powdered horncan be made into a potion that can cure most known diseases of the centralnervous system, and this is why tricorns were, and remain, so valuable. It hasone other use too. Can anybody tell me what this might be?"

Hermione waved her arm in the air again."It can be used as part of the Ancestral Potion," she said. "Torecall the spirits of your distant ancestors. Many wizards used it in the pastto give themselves strength during duels and battles. The potion forms anintegral part of the Ancestral Rite, which must be performed to complete thespell. It's one of those dual action things. You need to do both parts to makeit work."

"Well done," said Wilmot,looking considerably impressed with her. "I suggest you all read the settexts, as Hermione here clearly already has done. You may take another twopoints for Gryffindor."

Hermione looked very pleased. Wilmotcontinued to speak. "You therefore see exactly why as of 1980, there wereonly two hundred and fifty known specimens in the wild, as well as two furtherspecimens resident at the Institute for Advanced Magical Research, where Iworked with them until their death five years ago. Since then, their numbers,under careful stewardship and close co-operation between the British and theIranians, have risen to something approximating two thousand, which is prettygood going. Most of these specimens range across the Al Ashka Preservation, inthe remote Iranian interior, a protected area, and one very hard for Muggles toaccess. Now, as you may already have been told, I worked for some years at theInstitute for Advanced Magical Research, where I was daily in contact with thesemagnificent beasts. The first thing it is important to know about a tricorn, isnever ... ever to get between a mother and her foals. The horns are very, verysharp indeed, and men have been disembowelled by angry female tricorns beforenow ... I have witnessed it happen, and it is not a pretty sight. If a tricornbelieves it is being threatened in any way, it will without hesitation charge.If this happens to you, there is not a lot you can do ... it's partly why theInstitute insisted we sign disclaimers before we began our work on them..."

The class weren't entirely sure if thiswas a joke or not ... one or two of the Slytherins tittered slightly. TheGryffindors, on the other hand, were hanging onto Wilmot's every utterance ...all except for Harry, who was trying to figure out why Wilmot's face seemed sofamiliar to him. Maybe he should stop behind afterwards and ask him. He resolvedto check his photo album at morning break, to see if he couldn't be spotted inany of his parents' wedding photos.

The lesson ended promptly at elevenfifteen ... and after two hours in the classroom, which by now was filled with athick fug of condensation, they were all relieved to be let out. Harry waiteduntil everybody else had filed out, before approaching Wilmot's desk. Wilmotlooked up at the sound of his approach, and smiled.

"We meet again, Harry," he said."I wanted a word with you, as it happens. Have you got a couple ofminutes?"

Harry nodded.

"Shut the door will you?" askedWilmot. "I don't especially want anybody to see this."

Harry gave him a funny look, but closedthe classroom door anyway. "How did you know my name?" he asked.

"Everybody knows your name,"said Wilmot. "It wasn't especially difficult for me to work out who youare. Actually, it was laughably easy."

"And Hermione and Ron?" askedHarry.

"I've met them before," saidWilmot. "Actually, you don't know it, but you've all met me before. Take aseat," he gestured to the teacher's chair. Harry sat down on the edge ofit, whilst Wilmot perched himself on the edge of the desk.

"I'm wondering, Harry," saidWilmot, "just why you decided to stop behind after everyone and seeme?"

Harry could feel himself blushing. "I... I," he began. "I, it's, er, nothing really."

"Isn't it?"

"Well, that is ... it'll sound reallystupid," said Harry. "You'll only laugh at me."

"Promise not to," said Wilmot,grinning cheekily, his features almost childlike. Evidently something wasaffording him great amusement. "Seriously. I won't laugh at you ... I swearon Snape's life."

Harry smiled. "I thought you lookedfamiliar," he said, quietly. "I wanted to ask you whether I knew youfrom somewhere else. Are you in any of my photos ... of my Mum and Dad?"

"I already answered thatquestion," said Wilmot. "We've met several times, Harry ... and yes, Iam in several of the photos."

"That explains it," said Harry,looking relieved. He was assuming that Wilmot meant he had met Harry as a baby,before Voldemort's attack on his parents. "Well, if that's it, I think Ishould be going. Ron and Hermione will be waiting for me."

"Don't go yet," said Wilmot."Don't you want to know how I knew your parents ... or why you think I lookso familiar?"

Harry paused, he was halfway out of hisseat. "Go on then," he said, curiously.

"I know your parents because I wentto school with them," began Wilmot. "Your Father and I were very goodfriends."

"Nobody ever mentioned you tome," said Harry, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.

Wilmot smiled indulgently at Harry, in amanner Harry found strangely settling. He felt, though he didn't know why, astrange affinity with Xavier Wilmot ... it honestly seemed as though he knew himalready. "I didn't always go by the name Xavier Wilmot," said Wilmot."That is a pseudonym ... there is no such person, well," he paused,"actually there is. He was my maternal grandfather ... he taught Charmshere, a very long time ago, back in the fifties anyway. Do you want to know myreal name?"

"Go on," said Harry.

Wilmot's face cracked into a broad smile."You honestly don't recognise me do you?" he said. "Is it soobvious, even with the beard?"

"That's a fake beard?"

Wilmot shook his head. "No," hesaid. "This is all my own work ... a couple of growth charms, and you toocan have a full set of whiskers in the time it takes the average man to shave inthe mornings," he sounded like a TV commercial.

Harry, who wasn't shaving yet, couldn'thave hazarded a guess as to how long that was ... he felt his chin selfconsciously.

"I am frankly amazed, Harry, that youcan't see past my disguise," said Wilmot. "If I told you that my realname was Sirius Black ... would that help?"

Harry fell off his chair.

* * *

He woke up in the hospital wing, withconcerned faces peering at him, though without his glasses, he couldn't make outwho they were. His head was aching something terrible. It felt like somebody wassetting off a jackhammer inside his skull.

"What happened to me?" he asked,the pain in his head throbbing.

"You fell off your chair and crackedyour head on the desk," said a blob shaped a bit like Ron.

"Am I okay?" asked Harry,feeling his head gingerly. There was a large piece of sticky plaster on hisforehead.

"You're fine, I think," said thepossibly-Ron.

"Mild concussion," saidHermione's voice. Harry assumed it was indeed, Hermione.

"Could I have my glasses, do youthink?" he asked.

The probably-Hermione handed him hisglasses, and he put them on gratefully. The blobs materialised into, perhaps notsurprisingly under the circumstances, Ron and Hermione.

"Where's Sirius?" asked Harry.

Ron looked to Hermione, an expression ofextreme puzzlement on his face. "Sirius? Sirius isn't here, Harry."

"He must have hit his head harderthan Mr Wilmot thought," said Hermione. It dawned on Harry that, of course,they had no idea of Wilmot's true identity. He supposed he probably shouldn'ttell them what Sirius had said. If it really was Sirius. Perhaps he'd justimagined it. He shivered ... a chill rushed down his spine. Was he going nuts?

"It's nothing, don't worry aboutme," said Harry, his voice still sounding, to him, slightly woozy."What time is it?"

"About a quarter past one," saidHermione. "You were out for nearly three hours, we were starting to worryabout you."

Harry heard a familiar voice in thedistance, talking to Madam Pomfrey. He sat up in bed. It was Wilmot, or rather,Sirius ... that is, as long as he hadn't been dreaming. He turned to Ron, whohad turned to see what was going on.

" ... nevertheless," Sirius wassaying. "I would like to speak to him."

"The boy needs rest," MadamPomfrey was protesting. This was generally her standard protest whenever anybodytried to visit anybody else in the hospital wing. Sirius, however, seemed tohave other ideas.

"He looks fine to me," saidSirius, pushing past her into the room. "Harry, are you feeling anybetter?"

"He was going on about SiriusBlack," said Hermione suspiciously. Sirius couldn't help but grin."You wouldn't have any idea why, would you?"

"Why on Earth would Harry be going onabout a convicted felon? He's probably still a bit shaken up, that's all,"said Sirius. "Why don't you two run along and get some lunch. I'd like aword with Harry."

"We'll see you later," saidHermione, she ruffled Harry's hair in what she thought was a friendly sort ofway, though in truth, Harry found it very irritating when people did that sortof thing to him. Never having been treated as children should be, it irked himwhen people did try and treat him like a little kid. She and Ron ducked out ofthe way, and left the ward, their footsteps echoing on the hard floors as theyreceded into the distance. The window above Harry's bed was open slightly, andHarry could hear the far off cawing of an unseen rook, somewhere in one ofHogwarts' myriad of towers. Sirius drew the curtains around Harry's bed, and satdown on the end of it, missing Harry's feet by inches.

"This has to be some sort of record,Harry," he began. "You've got yourself into hospital within three daysof the start of term. Even for you that's a fairly impressive start.Congratulations."

"I won't have to stay overnight willI?" asked Harry. It was all very well spending time in the Hospital Wing,but it didn't half get lonely at night in there.

Sirius shook his head. "I imagineyou'll be well enough to go back to lessons as soon as lunch break is over. Youhave transfiguration this afternoon I believe, with Professor McGonagall?"

Harry nodded, he wasn't sure of his owntimetable yet, but that sounded about right.

"You'd better be ready forthat," said Sirius. He raised his voice in a cruel yet accurate impressionof Harry's Head of House. "The fact that you've been out cold in thehospital wing for most of this morning doesn't mean you can skip lessons as andwhen you choose," Sirius smiled, as if recalling a long forgottenmemory. "She said that to your Father once ... under almost exactly thesame circumstances as well."

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"He got clobbered by the WhompingWillow," said Sirius. "It was Remus' time of the month, and he wassneaking back from the Shrieking Shack one morning ... well, I expect you canprobably guess the rest."

Harry nodded. "Can I ask yousomething?" he asked.

"Go ahead, make my day," saidSirius.

"How come you're suddenly teaching atHogwarts?" asked Harry. "Shouldn't you still be on the run?"

"I take it you've not been keeping intouch with events over the summer," said Sirius, mysteriously.

Harry shook his head. "The Dursleyswere stopping my post. I didn't even get any birthday cards."

"Not even from me?" askedSirius, looking annoyed.

Harry shook his head again. "Not evenfrom you," he said.

"That truly takes the Huntley andPalmers! Bloody hell, Harry. I swear, I swear to God I'll help you get themback," said Sirius, clenching his fists in barely concealed rage at thenerve of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. "One of these days, I'm going to goover there, and teach them a lesson they won't forget in a hurry. I spent fiftyGalleons on that birthday present too. What is more, I had to go through theindignity of asking the woman in the cake shop to write 'Happy Birthday Harry'on your cake," he shuddered. "She kept winking at me, too."

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "Ididn't want you to go to any trouble."

Sirius smiled. "It wasn't yourfault," he said. "Pity about the present though. Wonder what happenedto it?"

"It probably ended up in thedustbin," said Harry. "But you were going to tell me something. Stopgoing off message."

"You sound just like Fudge,"said Sirius, indulgently. "Actually, fitting I should mention him. Fudge isto blame for all these shenanigans. You remember he was talking to Dumbledore,when we were in the hospital wing? End of last term," to Harry, he seemedto be skirting saying anything that might upset him. Nobody had dared mentionCedric Diggory's death to him, when in truth, it would have made him feel a lotbetter if they had.

"Yeah, go on."

"Dumbledore told him, in no uncertainterms, what to do ... you remember what he said?"

"Keep talking."

"Yes, indeed, anyway. So, Fudgedidn't take a blind bit of notice, so Dumbledore decided he had to rely on us,instead of him. Everyone was very busy for some weeks. Snape, well, Snape was aspy in the olden days ... for our side, against Voldemort."

"Dumbledore told me that," saidHarry. "Did he ..."

"Try to contact Voldemort?"asked Sirius. "Yes, that's exactly what he did. Only problem is, nobody hasseen hide nor hair of him since July."

"He's not on sabbatical then?"

"Of course not," said Sirius."The same goes for Hagrid ... he had to go and try to contact the giants.We could do with having them on side this time round. Nobody actually knows whatbecame of Hagrid either. The rumour mill has gone into overdrive of course.There are some people, high up in the Ministry, Cornelius Fudge and LuciusMalfoy amongst them, who believe Hagrid went over to the Dark Side, and aredoing as much as they can to spread that view around the Ministry. Anyway,that's as much as I know about them. I was up and down the country all summer,mobilising people who we think might be friendly to our cause. Anyway, inmid-August, Dumbledore offered me a post here. It's probably the safest placefor me to hide out under the circumstances, and I happen to have experience withmagical creatures. So here I am ... here we are."

"Is it really as bad as itsounds?" asked Harry.

"You tell me," said Sirius."You met Voldemort last summer. You were there. If he really is back, andI've never hoped more that you are mistaken, Harry, things will, to quote yourFather, 'shortly be getting rather rough.' As it goes, you are our only witness... you are all we have to go on. That's why it's so vital this year that youdon't do anything stupid."

"Like what?" asked Harry, he hada sinking feeling that as he had done last year, Sirius was about to startlecturing him about what he was and wasn't allowed to do ... something Harry hadtaken with a considerable pinch of salt, as Sirius had successfully brokenalmost every school rule ever written during his time at Hogwarts, including theone regarding use of wooden cutlery on Fridays, a hangover from the days ofRowena Ravenclaw, who couldnÂ’t be trusted.

"No sneaking around at night,Harry. Definitely no unsupervised trips into Hogsmeade, with or without theInvisibility Cloak. Dumbledore's writ doesn't extend beyond the schoolboundaries, so if anything should happen to you, he wouldn't be able to help youthere."

"I can look after myself," Harryglowered at Sirius. "I stood up to Voldemort, didn't I?"

"But next time, you might not be solucky," said Sirius. "I don't want you to take any chances this year,Harry. Neither does Dumbledore. That's why we're going to have to come down veryhard on any rule breaking on your part."

"That's not fair!" said Harry.

"Would you rather we let you out todie, or would you rather we did our best to keep you safe?" asked Sirius."People out there are looking for you, Harry. They'll do anything to tryand find you ... they could even be close by now. If you help us by stayingwhere somebody can see you, we can help you. You can choose to be selfish ofcourse ... it's up to you, but don't expect us to help you then. Perhaps itwould be best if you gave me the cloak for safe keeping."

He was referring, of course, to Harry'sprecious Invisibility Cloak, which had been handed down from his Father, alongwith the Marauder's Map, a tatty old piece of parchment penned by Sirius, hisFather, and their friends Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew during their time atHogwarts, that revealed all the secret passages in and out of the school to thebearer, as well as pinpointing the location of any roving members of staff.Together they afforded Harry almost total freedom to range all over Hogwarts asand when he pleased. Harry had them both safely tucked away in his trunk, underhis bed.

As if sensing what he was thinking, Siriusadded. "I think I'd better take the Map off you too, Harry."

Harry looked up. Sirius' face was a maskof seriousness. Inwardly, he knew it would be absolutely no use protesting. Hedid anyway. "You're not being fair."

"I'm being fairer than I should,Harry. If McGonagall had had her way, you'd be being guarded day andnight," Sirius well remembered that particular staff meeting ... he hadbeen surprised to discover that Harry had a very large file all to himself,which was kept in Dumbledore's office, and appeared to be stuffed full of whatlooked like fan mail from teenaged girls. "I know you're a good andtrustworthy boy ... but we just don't want to take any chances with you ... notafter what happened last year."

Harry scowled at him.

"It's no use trying to throw thegrumpy adolescent act on me," said Sirius. "Our minds are already madeup. Please, Harry, do as I say ... don't make it harder on yourself," hechecked his watch. "It's almost one thirty," he said. "You'dbetter get going if you want some lunch. Oh, and, Harry, one last thing."

Harry, who had been in the process ofclimbing out of bed, stopped. "What is it now?" he asked.

"I'm here incognito ... as far asyou, Ron, Hermione, anybody else here is concerned, I'm Xavier Wilmot. Pleasedon't go spreading the word about my true identity. If it was to get out thatDumbledore was employing an escaped murderer, Hogwarts would be finished."

"I won't tell anyone," saidHarry. "I promise."

* * *

Draco slouched along the corridor towardsthe Great Hall. To the casual observer, the set of his shoulders, the pace ofhis walk and the fixed scowl on his face betrayed his mood instantly. He wascompletely dejected, a shadow of his former self. Two days of persistentpersecution by his fellow Slytherins had left his self-esteem lower than it hadever been before. They had been flicking food at him at mealtimes ... puttingthings in his bed, usually things that were either slimy and aggressive, orbetter still, both. That morning somebody had stolen his towel whilst he was inthe shower, and he had been forced to steal his way back to the dormitory usinga conveniently placed rubber duck. As if this wasn't bad enough, that very dayhe had received a letter reminding him of his duties...

66 Berkeley Place

,

‘London

SW5 6MA

Sunday September 3^rd, 1995.

Dear Mr Malfoy.

I am writing to you on behalf of our mutual master, Artemis Chaldean, regarding the forward movement of the 'mission' you are currently engaged upon. I need hardly remind you that Mr Chaldean expects results quickly, as does your Father. It is now vital we obtain Harry Potter by means either fair or foul, within the next few weeks. To this end I enclose the final details of the potion you are to make.'

Enclosed, Draco had found a small, crumpled piece of paper with the recipe written on it in blood red ink.

'I need hardly remind you that failure in this task will result in Mr Chaldean's immense displeasure, not to mention dire circumstances for yourself. Do not fail us.

Yours truly,

Andrews, David.

Secretary to Artemis Chaldean, BMA, GSOH, WLTM, BA.Pot. (Oxford).

'

Draco had read the letter through severaltimes. It did not make pleasant reading. The words 'immense displeasure' and'dire circumstances' stood out in particular. Draco wasn't exactly surewhat Andrews meant by this, though it didn't take a great deal of intelligenceto work out that a punishment would be in the offing. Draco considered himselfto be somewhat of an expert on most conceivable forms of punishment, havingundergone a great number of them during his lifetime ... he had a feelingChaldean was capable of more than hitting him a few times. What were thenames of those curses they had done last year?

He looked up as the buzzing sound of happyconversation met his tired ears. His footsteps had lead him straight past theGreat Hall, where the other students and faculty were at lunch. He peered aroundthe door. He had been trying to avoid eating at the same time as the otherSlytherins for fear of what they might try and do to him.

What hurt the most, he thought, as hewatched Crabbe and Goyle shovelling vast quantities of shepherd's pie into theiralready overstuffed bellies, was that there really was nobody he could goand talk to. He could hardly owl his Father ... most likely if he divulged whatwas on his mind, a severe rebuke, maybe even a howler, would come his way. HisFather had always told him to stand up for himself, to maintain his honour anddignity at all costs. Draco, however, had never, ever had to stand up forhimself before, and the realisation was dawning on him that he wasn't actuallyable to, and with that, the certain knowledge that he was as much of a coward ashe thought he was. He could have spoken to Snape ... if he had been here, he wasSnape's favourite, by a long way. Doctor Jones, on the other hand, was more orless completely unapproachable. He had only known her a few days, only had onelesson with her, but one thing was already clear in his mind; Doctor Jones hatedhim.

He hung back near the door until Crabbeand Goyle had finished, and then slipped into the Hall. Most of the otherstudents had gone now. Only Harry, Ron and Hermione were left at the Gryffindortable. Draco contemplated going over to sit with them, but he knew that he wouldreceive no kindness there either. He sat down in his usual seat at the Slytherintable, from where he had a clear view of the back of Hermione's head, and helpedhimself to what remained of the shepherd's pie.

"Didn't think you'd dare show yourface around here again, Malfoy," someone said. Draco turned round.Pansy was standing behind him. "Thought you were hiding in shame!"

Draco didn't reply. He took up his fork,and was about to start eating when his plate was dashed to the floor. Itsplintered into a thousand pieces, and the sloppy pie went all over Draco'sbeautifully polished shoes.

"Answer me, Malfoy! What do you thinkgives you the right to sit at the Slytherin table?"

Draco looked frantically around the hallfor help, but none seemed to be forthcoming. The only two teachers who remainedat the Top Table were, as bad luck would have it, Doctor Jones, and ProfessorMcGonagall, both of whom seemed to be getting on like a house on fire, andneither of whom had noticed the loud crash as Draco's lunch met its doom.

"I'm still a Slytherin ... like it ornot," said Draco, quietly. He was still holding a forkful of pie halfway tohis mouth.

"Go and sit with those MudbloodGryffindors," hissed Pansy. "That's all you're fit for. People likeyou are scum."

"Sooner be a Mudblood than yourfriend," Draco found himself saying. "And call my family scum againand I'll hit you so hard you'll be able to see next Tuesday!"

Pansy turned up her nose at him."Scum. Filthy, cheating scum. How do you think you got all your money? Cheating,that's how! It's dirty money!" she said. "I don't know why I everdeluded myself that I fancied you, Draco Malfoy. Your so called mansion is afront. It's all over the Ministry. Money laundering, Swiss bank accounts, dirtydealings. Sooner or later your poxy family is going to get what's coming toit!"

"And what might that be?" askedDraco, raising his voice in frustration ... he could feel cold, blind ragewelling up inside his body.

"A good kick up the rear end,"said Pansy.

"That's what somebody needs to giveyou!" hissed Draco. "You're a nasty little witch, and I can't believeI ever deluded myself than I fancied you."

Pansy gasped. "How dare you!"she hissed. The next thing Draco knew, she had slapped him across the face. Thefew remaining diners turned to stare in their direction.

"Get out of my sight!" she said."I never want to see you, or hear you again!"

She turned on her heels, and stormed outof the Hall. Draco looked down at the floor. His lunch was no more. He looked upagain. Hermione was looking at him ... her face ... her expression looked likepity. She turned away hurriedly when she noticed Draco was staring at her, andpretended to be once more deep in conversation with Harry and Ron. Draco couldtell she was only pretending. As he put his hand slowly to his cheek, which wasstill burning from Pansy's attack, he wondered what was on her mind ... what shewas thinking. Above all he wondered what she thought about him.

"I just want to be liked," hebreathed to himself.

* * *

As it happened, Draco got his chance totalk once again with Hermione later that very afternoon, when he came across herin the library, her nose buried deep inside a reference book. Draco was somewhatalarmed to note that it was the self same book he had stolen from his Father'sstudy that hot, hot morning that now seemed so very far away in time ... thebook in which he had first read about Dracaena Draco, the plant that was causingall the trouble in the first place. Summoning all the little strength he feltwas left inside of him after the ordeals of the last few days, he went over,stood behind her, and coughed slightly, as he had been taught to do in etiquetteclasses.

Hermione gave a little jump, startled bythe sudden noise. She looked up. "Oh," she said, in a voice that couldhardly be said to be bursting with enthusiasm. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering, could I ... talk toyou?" asked Draco.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm trying toread," she replied haughtily.

"What are you reading?" askedDraco, pretending he didn't already know, and peering over her shoulder to lookat the text, a habit Hermione found deeply annoying at the best of times.

"Will you quit looking over myshoulder?"

Draco withdrew hurriedly."Sorry," he said. "I meant no offence."

Hermione gave him another one of her funnylooks. "You don't give up easily do you, Malfoy? I'll say that in yourfavour."

"I don't know what you mean."

Hermione, truth to tell, was actually abit worried about Draco. Not as worried as she would have been about Harry orRon, but still slightly vexed. She knew he had been lying when he'd claimed thathis black eye and bloody nose were 'nothing.' Hermione was by nature a generoussoul, given to try and make peace with as many people as possible. At herPrimary School, back home in Marlow, she'd always been the one who'd helped out,comforted the underdogs as they licked their wounds. Perhaps, she thought, thisis the same instinct surfacing again. Perhaps ... she thought, a bit alarmedthis time, I'm doomed to be a mother figure forever. Above all, hercuriosity had always been insatiable. Maybe if that hadn't been so ... she wouldhave told Draco to go away and leave her alone, and that would have been the endof that. However, Hermione, being Hermione, did not do this. Instead, she lookedup at him, and said. "You still seem determined to be nice to me. Youhaven't called me a Mudblood once this term, which is saying something as far asyou're concerned. So what's eating you?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing much,"he said. "You changed your tune quickly, didn't you?"

"Someone makes the effort to be niceto me ... I ought at least to give them a chance. Don't you think so?" saidHermione. "That's what my Sunday School teacher always told me ...remember? Love your enemies ... stuff like that."

"I never went to Sunday School,"said Draco, shuffling his feet nervously, as though he felt this was somethingthat he ought really to be ashamed of. "My parents aren't veryreligious."

"You weren't missing anything,"said Hermione, smiling. "But I guess sometimes stuff rubs off on you.Anyway ... you're not happy, I can tell. You need talking to, not puttingdown," she closed the book. "So what's new in the wacky world of DracoMalfoy?"

Draco wrung his hands. "Nothingmuch," he said.

"So nobody gave you that black eye,nobody bloodied your nose? That little fracas in the Hall at lunchtime ... thatwas a figment of my imagination was it?"

Draco forced a smile. "You're beingunexpectedly feisty," he said.

"Feisty isn't the word I'd use,"said Hermione, she was unconsciously fluttering her eyelashes at Draco, whohadn't noticed. "Take a seat."

Draco perched on the edge of the table, ashe did so, scanning the room for hostile elements. None seemed to be in the wayof presenting themselves at that particular moment. Very few of the Slytherinsreally bothered to use the Library much. All the same, I'd better be on myguard, he thought. "What about Harry and Ron?" he asked.

"Quidditch tryouts," saidHermione. "Harry's gone along to give Ron moral support. If you're worriedabout them bowling up out of the wide blue yonder and having a go at you, thendon't be. I have them both wrapped around my little finger anyway," shefavoured Draco with a wicked smile. Draco wondered what she meant by it.

"Shouldn't you be doing thesame?" he asked. "I mean, watching the Quidditch ... lending yoursupport, for the greater glory of Gryffindor."

"Draco, there's work to bedone," said Hermione. "They have my spiritual support, which they mayuse as they see fit. Anyway, I don't find Quidditch that enthralling towatch."

Draco gave her a look suggesting she'djust said something tantamount to sacrilege. However he didn't say anything.Instead he coughed, then spoke again. "I thought you and Harry were ... youknow."

"An item?" said Hermione."Heaven forbid. Harry's lovely and all, don't get me wrong, but he's justnot my type. I don't go for little guys in glasses."

"And Ron?"

"Too lanky," said Hermione."And his brain seems to be located in his pants. Look here, fascinatingthough my twisted love life no doubt is to you, that's not what I thought youwanted to talk about. What is the matter with you?"

"You'd never believe me if I toldyou," said Draco.

"Try me," said Hermione."You never know. Sometimes it helps to talk."

"Well," said Draco. "I'mnot really that popular at the moment."

"In what way?"

"Just generally ... you know, with myHouse. Things being what they are ... I've made a bit of a pig's ear of things,and I don't even know if I want to put it right."

"Why should that be?" askedHermione, closing her book, and putting it to one side.

"Mainly because I tried to talk toyou," said Draco. "They think I'm trying to get in with theGryffindors."

"That's what it looks like from whereI'm standing too," said Hermione. "Why are you trying to get in withus? Is it really worth getting beaten up for?"

"I wasn't beaten up!" lied Dracowith feeling.

"Pull the other one, Draco,"said Hermione. "Someone had a right go at you. Who was it? You shouldreally go to a teacher."

Draco looked up in astonishment."Like that'll make any difference," he said. "Besides, they allhate me apart from Snape, and he isn't here."

"Not everyone hates you," saidHermione, taking Draco's last remark as an admission that somebody had indeedbeen bullying him.

"Yes they do," said Draco.

"I don't."

"That's very nice of you to sayso," said Draco, unaware that he was blushing to the roots of his hair,which Hermione found faintly endearing, and thought made him look rather cute.However, she said nothing, and allowed Draco to carry on talking. "I had alot of time to think things over during the summer," he said. "A lotof time. I suppose I should really have been doing my homework, but you know howit is."

Hermione nodded. "What were youthinking about?" she asked.

"About a week ago," said Draco."My Father had a visitor, some bloke he used to work with. This guy told mesome things that, kind of shook me up a bit."

"A bit?"

"A lot," said Draco. "Hesaid quite a lot of things about what my Father used to do. Back, some time ago.I'd rather not go into what he said, but he gave me a lot of food for thought,and now I'm confused, I suppose."

"What about?"

"Life ... the universe, everythingreally," said Draco. "You know how it is when there's something you'reitching to tell somebody, like making a declaration of love? That's kind of howI feel now."

"There's something you want to tellme badly, isn't there?" said Hermione, who knew exactly what he meant."Does it have something to do with that cutting I read you when we were indetention."

"Indirectly, yes," said Draco."But that isn't really very important right now. I guess there is somethingI want to tell somebody, but I'm not sure if that person is you. If you see whatI mean?"

"Would it do me any good at all toknow what it is?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, I suppose it would," saidDraco.

"You're not going to tell methough," said Hermione. "But that's what's bothering you? Right ... Iguess we should backtrack a bit. Who knocked you around?"

Draco glanced around the Library, andHermione noticed for the first time that the look in his eyes seemed hunted. Heseemed to be on the alert, as if anticipating attack from any quarter, at anysecond. Finally, he spoke. "It was Crabbe, and Goyle," he said.

"What? I thought they were yourfriends."

Draco shook his head, and hurriedly wipedthe sleeve of his robes across his eyes, as if wiping away tears. "Hermione... that's it ... I don't have any friends."

"Crabbe and Goyle always used to hangaround with you ... didn't they?" she asked. "I thought you guys wereinseparable ... the gruesome threesome. Was it not like that?" she couldanticipate the answer from the look on Draco's face.

"No. Crabbe and Goyle just kind ofdrifted around me," said Draco. "My Father always chose my friends forme ... he vetoed any I brought home from Primary School. He's a good man ...really, he just, needs to be in control."

"That isn't the mark of a goodman," said Hermione. "But I'm not here to judge your Father. Actually,if you'd believe it, I came up here to try and get some research done and I endup playing Agony Aunt to beleaguered adolescent schoolboys."

Draco grinned slightly at this, but it wasa forced grin, and Hermione could tell it meant nothing. "I suppose Crabbeand Goyle were just the kind of friends he thought I needed. He could alwaystell you see. I can't fight for myself, I never could. I was a premature baby, Iwas always very weak. I suppose that's why he forced me to go to boxing classes.He thought it would put hair on my chest."

"Did it?"

"No, I was eight and a half,"said Draco. "Anyway, he used to make Crabbe and Goyle's Fathers bring themround to play with me. Play being the operative word. I won't pretend I wasspoiled rotten ... and being an only child ... well, you must know what onlychildren are like ... selfish little sods, most of them."

"Very insightful of you," saidHermione, who was one herself. "Carry on."

"Yeah, so, they just kind of stuck tome," said Draco. "When we came to Hogwarts, I was actually verypleased we all ended up in Slytherin. It was where I wanted to be, of course,but Goyle was petrified he'd end up a Ravenclaw, or a Hufflepuff. They, well, Iguess they had their uses as henchmen. The point was, I don't think either ofthem ever really liked me. I think they were just as pushed into being friendswith me as I was with them. Saying your little boy is friends with the heir tothe Malfoy fortune carries some weight, you see."

"Don't get bigheaded," saidHermione.

"I wasn't," said Draco."That's the truth, honest to God."

"You think they were in it for themoney?"

"For the toys, probably," saidDraco. "I had rather a lot of them. The money, well, that's tied up in somesort of investment portfolio. I don't get to touch a Knut of it until I'm twentyfive."

"You're dabbling in the stock marketare you?" asked Hermione.

Draco made a face ... he, of course,didn't have the faintest idea what the stock market was. "Probablynot," he said. "The money is in holdings in Eastern Europe and Asia... we have property in the Caucasian Mountains ... Nagorno-Karabakh, Naxcivanand Chechnya, if I remember rightly. My Father has a ninety per cent share inthe family business. Only nobody is quite sure what the family businessdoes."

"Nor are we here to discussinvestment possibilities in Malfoy Incorporated and it's subsidiaries andshareholders," said Hermione. "You were telling me about Crabbe andGoyle."

"I can't really think of much else tosay about them," said Draco. "I'm sorry ... look, I've been botheringyou ... you don't want to be seen talking to me. It won't do wonders for yourstreet cred at this particular moment in time. But thanks for listening tome."

"It's no problem Â… and sayingstreet cred is really bad for your street cred, these days" saidHermione. She changed the subject "Look ... I know it won't ... I mean, youprobably don't really want to be seen around me at the minute. I imagine yourstreet cred has touched rock bottom of late. But, if you need an ear, or ashoulder, then I am here, and I will listen to you. That's if you think you needit."

Draco smiled ... the first genuine smileshe could ever recall of him. For a moment, he looked so much more alive ... notlike the normal Draco Malfoy, but a subdued version of the same."Thanks," he said. "I appreciate that. Um ... Hermione."

"Fire away."

"I'd, you know," he wrung hishands again. "Some of the things I've told you ... they're things I nevertold anybody else at all, before you. I'd appreciate it if..."

"I won't tell a soul. You'd bettergo," said Hermione. "Harry just came in. I doubt he'd be particularlysympathetic."

Draco slipped off the desk, and meltedseamlessly into the shadowy realms of the tall bookcases. Harry approached thedesk at which Hermione was sitting. He was still sporting the large piece ofplaster on his forehead, partly obscuring his scar, though no less obvious inits way. Hermione was somewhat worried to note that there was now a very large,colourful bruise on his right cheek.

"Who were you talking to?" askedHarry, taking off his glasses, and polishing them on his robes.

"Justin Finch-Fletchleyactually," lied Hermione, plucking the first name she could think of out ofthin air. Harry seemed satisfied, and sat down on the desk, almost exactly whereDraco had been. "He wanted help with his Transfiguration homework."

"You mean you gave it to him? Oh well... want to know how I got this?" he asked, gesturing to his face.

"Roll up for the Hermione Grangercounselling service," she muttered under her breath. "One night only,two Sickles a minute, call 0800-HERMI. Please ask permission before youdial."

"Sorry?" said Harry, lookingvery perplexed indeed.

"How did you get the bruiseHarry?" asked Hermione.

"Bludger," said Harry, proudly."Didn't even see it coming. Damn near knocked me off my broom."

"It looks nasty," said Hermione."You really should go up to the Hospital Wing, put an ice pack on it."

Harry shook his head. "At this pointin time," he said. "I'd rather dance naked across hot coals than spendany more time with Madam Pomfrey breathing down my neck. Do you have any ideahow much starch she puts in the pyjamas?"

Hermione didn't.

"It's like trying to sleep in aconcrete overcoat," said Harry. "Anyway, it's stopped hurtingnow."

"Fair enough," said Hermione."Look, Harry, I don't mean to be mean or anything, but I'm rather busy atthe minute. Was there something important you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Well, actually," Harry began."Yeah, but it's kind of private. I'd rather not talk in here."

"There's nobody else here," saidHermione, scanning the library. "Nobody can hear."

Harry swung his legs nervously ... hehadn't yet changed out of his Quidditch robes, and there was another lividyellow bruise on his shin. "It's nothing really. Actually, you'll probablythink it's silly."

"Very few things you have ever saidto me have turned out to be silly," said Hermione. "I can think of oneor two, but they're the exceptions that prove the rule ... in this caseanyway."

"But this is rather silly," saidHarry. "Hermione, what do you think of me?"

Hermione was somewhat taken aback by whatappeared to her to be a very direct approach, and one she had never known Harryto take before ... he tended to be a bit dithery when it came to explaininghimself.

"You think I'm being daft, don'tyou?" said Harry, noting the astonished look on Hermione's face.

"Not at all," said Hermione,quickly. "I ... I'm just a little bit surprised. I don't know if I cananswer that question."

"Have a go," said Harry."You see, I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last week ... and nowthat Cho has gone back to Hong Kong," he paused. "Not that I mean tosay for one second that I'm only telling you this because she isn't ... youknow, available..."

"I understand," said Hermione,who didn't ... at all. "Carry on."

"Yeah, anyway ... like I said, I wasthinking a lot, and I think there's more between us than just being friends. Ifyou see what I mean ... I was wondering, if ... you know, felt the same wayabout me? It's just ... I think we could be good together, as long as Ron didn'tget in the way or anything."

Hermione pondered the question for amoment. She was dimly aware of some unidentifiable person looking at books inthe next aisle. She lowered her voice and spoke in a whisper. "Harry, Ithink you're really nice," she said.

Harry looked relieved.

Hermione went on. "I really like you,and I really value you as a friend and an ally," she caught the look onHarry's face. "I'm not answering your question am I?"

"Do I look okay?" asked Harry.

"Superficially, no," saidHermione. "You're covered in bruises. I guess ... I know what you'regetting at. Harry, I want you to listen to me," she considered how best toput this to him without deflating him too severely. "You are very goodlooking, and believe me, when the time comes, you'll have no trouble getting agirlfriend. The thing is ... I don't think I'm the right person for you. Is thatwhat you were thinking?"

Harry nodded.

"I think you know that as well. Ithink you know what you want ... I just don't think either of us are ready forthat yet ... and even if we were, I don't believe it would be right."

Harry's face was half hidden in theflickering shadows, but it looked very much as though he was biting his lip."I see," he said.

"Don't be disheartened Harry,"said Hermione. "I want you as a friend, platonic, you understand? I thinkyou want the same."

"I made a complete arse of myself,didn't I?" said Harry. "I'm really sorry. I ought to go."

"Stay if you want," saidHermione.

"No, really, I need to get changed,have a shower and stuff. Look, I'll see you later. I'll be with Ron in theCommon Room. Okay?" he slipped off the desk, and was gone, leaving Hermionesitting at her desk, looking slightly stunned. She was sure she'd done the rightthing, however. She already knew that she didn't have any romantic feelingstowards Harry ... but now, knowing that he did made her feel distinctlyunsettled. Was he for real? What he had said seemed honest enough, and ofcourse, Harry, not having had the benefit of parents, or even a halfway normalchildhood, would naturally find speaking his mind and his heart harder than anormal person. Sometimes, she quite forgot that Harry was not normal, even for awizard. What he had just done must have required an enormous amount of courage.She knew she had done the right thing by letting him down, but had she done itin the right way? Hermione wasn't at all sure she had. She had never seen Harrytruly upset by anything ... save for that one time in the Hospital Wing. Shewasn't even sure if he knew how to express himself like that. She would hate tothink she had upset him. For a moment she considered going after him ... butdecided against it. What Harry needed was time alone. Sighing, she picked up herbook again.

From his vantage point a few feet away,Draco stared at her, open mouthed.

* * *

Draco was surprised to see that the nextmorning, Harry and Hermione appeared to be chatting away as though nothing hadhappened between them. Evidently Harry was made of sterner stuff than Draco hadpreviously assumed. Again, he waited until most of the rest of the students hadfinished their breakfast and gone off to organise their books and bags for theday before he sat down to eat. As a consequence of this, there was just oneother Slytherin at the table, Johannes Ericssen, who was slyly looking at Dracoover his bowl of lumpy porridge.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Dracolooked up. In many ways, Johannes reminded him of himself at the age of eleven.Timid and insecure, apparently friendless, yet hiding that behind an outwardshow of cheek, that if the rumour mill was to be believed, had already resultedin two detentions and twenty points lost for Slytherin.

"Not really," said Draco."Forget it, it's nothing for you to be worried about."

"I saw what happened to you,"said Johannes. He had a strong South African accent. "Why did they attackyou?"

"Because of something I said,"said Draco, the tone of his voice making it clear he wanted to be disturbed fromhis repast no further. Johannes didn't take the hint.

"Is it because you don't want to bein Slytherin?" asked Johannes.

"Of course I want to be inSlytherin," said Draco. "Eat up and leave me alone, kid."

"I didn't want to be inSlytherin," said Johannes. "My parents were both in Gryffindor, a longtime ago," he added, as though this wasn't immediately obvious.

"That's nice," said Draco."Aren't you in a hurry?"

Johannes shook his head. "I've gotPotions first with Doctor Jones. She's really horrible to us."

Draco smiled. "Yeah," he agreed."Really horrible," he took up his knife and fork, and began to eat hisbacon.

"Do you know Harry Potter then?"asked Johannes.

Draco looked up from his breakfast."Kind of," he said. "We don't get on very well."

"He seems really nice," saidJohannes. "He helped me out when I got lost the other day."

"You shouldn't really have donethat," said Draco, sipping his tea. "We ... that is to say, Slytherinsand Gryffindors, we have a kind of a feud going on ... it's been going onpractically since Hogwarts started, and so we don't usually talk to each other.I'd look out Johannes ... if any of the others see you talking to him or hisfriends, they might turn nasty."

"You were talking tohim," said Johannes. "And Hermione Granger. I saw you!"

"That was different," saidDraco. "I had a very good reason for that."

"Is that why the others tried to beatyou up?" asked Johannes.

Draco scowled at the other boy, andlowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Yes!" he hissed. "Butdon't go blabbing about that to anybody, understand. I'll make it worse for youif you do. Got that?"

Johannes blushed bright red."Okay," he said. He returned to his breakfast, and not another wordpassed between either of them.

* * *

"As you no doubt remember,"Doctor Jones went on. "The homework I set you during our last lesson was toread Chapters One through Fifteen of ‘The Relevance of Potions in a ModernMagical Society' and make notes on what you learned. Please take out yournotes and place them on your desks in front of you."

There was a flurry of activity as theclass delved into their bags for their assignments. Draco, this time, had donehis. Doctor Jones was almost immediately at his side.

"I see we have decided to pull oursocks up, Malfoy," she said, picking up the notes, and rifling throughthem. Draco had actually been forced to do them twice, as Crabbe had ripped upthe first set. "They're a bit messy," she said. "But they'lldo."

Hermione gave Draco a supportive smile ...thankfully nobody except Draco noticed it.

Jones walked across the classroom to whereCrabbe and Goyle were sitting. Much to Draco's annoyance, both of them hadcompleted the set work as well.

"This is an improvement, Goyle,"she said. "See what we can achieve when we don't eat as we work? Now, let'ssee how the troublemakers did."

Draco, and most of the rest of the classturned to look. Harry, Ron and Hermione all had their work out in front of them.The sense of disappointment radiating from Doctor Jones was evident even on theother side of the room, where Draco was sitting, all alone at the front desk.None of the Slytherins were talking to him now.

"Today," said Jones. "Wewill be attempting to brew the Ancestral Potion. Can anybody apart from Grangertell me exactly what this is?"

Draco thought he remembered, andtentatively raised his hand.

"Go on, Malfoy," said Jones."Do tell us," a paper dart hit Draco on the back of the head, butJones didn't notice it, or that it had been thrown by Millicent Bulstrode.

"It recalls the spirits of yourancestors," said Draco, who wasn't sure he wanted to meet the Malfoys."We won't actually be drinking it, will we?"

"No," said Jones. "It canbe very dangerous if used unwisely. If everybody took it, the dungeon would beoverflowing with ghosts, besides the fact that it needs to be performed intandem with a very complex rite that I would not advise anybody here to try.Actually, I don't know why it's on the syllabus ... it is completely pointlessand very rarely used nowadays. I believe the last occasion occurred sometime inthe 1980's, about twelve years ago. Now, can anybody tell me what this potion isuseful for?"

"The spirits can transfer theirresidual strength into their descendant," said Draco. "It makes themstronger in battle, or in duels."

"We are being very sharp today,Malfoy," said Jones. "A point to Slytherin. Let's see if Granger cantell us more. What is the principal ingredient?"

"Tricorn horn," said Hermione.

"Correct. However, we can no longeruse this, on account of the tricorn being a very rare and protected species. Igather Xavier Wilmot is teaching you about them?"

The class nodded. "Heed his words ...he is a very wise man. I used to work with him ... I used to know himvery well. Now, in the absence of tricorns, a substitute can be used which isalmost as effective. This ingredient is nothing more than common or gardensheep's liver. This is what we will be using today. Please pair off."

The class split into pairs. Draco's eyesroved frantically over the classroom, trying to find somebody who was preparedto work with him. However, all the Slytherins had already chosen their partners.Pansy was grinning malevolently at him.

"Malfoy, come here," said Jones."Granger doesn't have a partner either. Work with her."

To jeers and catcalls from the Slytherins,Draco slouched over to Hermione's workbench. Harry and Ron were already settingup their equipment, and both of them shot Draco glares filled with pure hatred.

"Hello," said Hermione,brightly. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Not much," said Draco, who feltlike he was about to wither under the stares of Harry and Ron. "Come on,we'd better get started."

"Before we start," said DoctorJones. "I was somewhat alarmed to discover that somebody had broken intothe restricted store cupboard in my office last night. If it was any of you, Iwarn you now that any further night time excursions will result in severesanctions. I also add that it any of you know who the culprit is, please tellme."

Draco swallowed, and tried not to look inher direction. He had been following Chaldean's instructions for the mixture ofthe Dragon's Blood potion ... the powdered Dracaena Draco leaves needed severalhours of patient distillation before they were usable, and some of theingredients were very hard to come by, hence Draco's midnight raiding visits tothe dungeons.

"I want you to bring a quart of waterto the boil," said Jones, who had once again taken to stalking the aislesbetween the workbenches, looking for trouble, and when she couldn't find any,creating it herself.

Hermione said nothing to Draco as shefilled up her old pewter cauldron with water, and muttering a few choice words,conjured up a small blue fire to heat it up with. Draco was just beginning tothink that their heart to heart had meant nothing, when to his surprise, sheslipped a little note into his pocket, and tipped him a wink.

"Don't say anything," shewhispered. "Remember, Draco ... I hate you."

"Understood," said Draco.

Harry and Ron didn't appear to want totalk to either of them ... something for which Draco was, in truth, profoundlythankful, as he didn't much feel like talking to them either. Indeed, the onlyperson he really wanted to talk to at this point was Hermione. She was actuallythe only person he felt he could talk to. None of the Slytherins were taking anynotice of him. As they waited for the water to boil ... which took a good fiveminutes, he glanced quickly across the dungeon to where his erstwhile friendsseemed to be sharing a very funny joke. Occasionally one of them would look atDraco, and then they would dissolve into fresh fits of laughter. Draco feltslightly sick, and quickly looked away again.

"I really need to talk to you,"he said to Hermione, who was watching the water, which was beginning to bubbleviolently.

"Not here ... not now," saidHermione. "Come and talk to me later."

"When later?" asked Draco,raising his voice slightly.

"I don't know," said Hermione."Look ... meet me in the Library, seven o'clock, after dinner. Nobody evergoes to the Library. Have you quartered those gall bladders yet?"

"I'm right onto it," said Draco,seizing scalpel and wooden chopping board. "Do you want the shreddedmandrake leaves yet?"

"They go in last, Draco."

"Yeah ... sorry. I knew that."

On the other end of the workbench, Harrywas watching the proceedings with a certain degree of interest, whilst Ronwatched the boiling potion, which was emitting brief puffs of foul smellingpurple smoke. It was not meant to be doing this.

"Harry," Ron said. "Shouldwe have added the gall bladders first?"

"Don't think so," said Harry,tearing his attention away from Hermione and Draco for one second. "I don'tthink Hermione has."

The cauldron was starting to vibratealarmingly. "Perhaps we should try doing something, Harry," said Ron,indicating the potential for disaster by waving his hands around.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm onto it," saidHarry in a very half-hearted manner.

"Harry! Stop ogling Hermione for oneminute and give me a hand!"

"Okay!" shouted Harry, whirlinground, catching his sleeve on the jar containing their stewed sheep's liver, andknocking it over. "Quit bugging me! Take it off the boil orsomething."

Ron tried to pick up the cauldron by itshandles, and jumped back as it burned his hands. He yelled in pain. From hervantage point at the teacher's desk in front of the class, Doctor Jones lookedup.

"Are we completely incapable ofcarrying out simple instructions without killing ourselves?" she asked,storming over and waving her arms in the air to dissipate the thick, chokingsmog that now hung over the remains of Harry and Ron's potion.

"I think we may have put theingredients in in the wrong order," said Ron. Jones had pulled on a verylarge, very thick oven glove with a picture of a cat sewn into it, and removedthe cauldron from the fire. She coughed loudly.

"I assume you thought it would beamusing to mess around during my lessons, did we not, boys?" asked Jones,surveying both them and the smouldering potion. "I can see no other reasonfor such a superb display of supreme incompetence. You aren't retarded by anychance?"

Harry scowled at her. "It was anaccident," he said. "We messed up the ingredients!"

Jones shot him a death ray glance whichsilenced him. "How dare you raise your voice to me, Potter!" shehissed.

"I wasn't," protested Harry."All I was saying Â…"

"Silence," Doctor Jones said."I see you have evidently not even been schooled in the basic mannerismsand conventions of polite society, Potter. Do we by any chance reside in adustbin?"

Harry remained silent.

Doctor Jones carried on speaking. TheSlytherins were looking on with looks of intense glee on every one of theirfaces. "Since we are unaware of basic courtesy, Potter, I feel it must bemy unfortunate duty to instruct you on your sub-standard behaviour. You never,ever, talk back to a teacher ... and if you talk back to me ... well, you hadbetter be very brave, or have some sort of death wish."

Somebody, it sounded like Pansy Parkinsonsnickered loudly. Doctor Jones ignored her.

"You and Weasley are banned frompractical work in these lessons until such time as I am duly convinced thatPotter here has mastered the tricky problem of respect for one's superiors.Clean this mess up, and see me after the lesson," she stalked off. Therewas a brief moment of silence before the usual buzz of casual conversationresumed.

Harry turned to Ron. "Sorry," hesaid.

"That was unfair," said Ron,reaching for the paper towels to start mopping up the mess. "Here," heleant closer. "What's happening between Hermione and Draco?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know,"he said. "They seem to be working together ... and not actuallykilling each other."

Ron shook his head. "Weird," hesaid. "You don't think she was serious ... you know, what she was saying onSaturday."

"That she thought he was cute,"said Harry. "Nah ... Draco isn't her type. I'm sure of it."

"How would you be so sure?"asked Ron. "Unless she's seeing you. Hey ... perhaps Draco is her bit onthe side. You've got competition, Harry!"

"Hermione is not seeingme," said Harry, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice as he thoughthow much he wished she was. "Whatever makes you think she and I have athing going?"

"Because you talk in your sleep,Harry," said Ron.

Harry blushed. "What ... since when?Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought, some day the moment willcome," said Ron, "when it will be right for me to tell Harry about hisnocturnal vocalisations. Now is as good a time as any."

"I don't keep you awake ... doI?" asked Harry, not daring to look Ron in the eye.

"Between you and Neville ... yes, youdo," said Ron. "Sounds like you have some pretty fruity dreams everyso often!"

"I don't want to know," saidHarry. "Shut up already and get cleaning."

"You asked," shrugged Ron,affecting an air of being offended, though making it obvious that he wasn't.

"What sort of things do I say?"asked Harry, after a minute's awkward silence, during which both boys engagedthemselves in moving the spilled potion ingredients around the desk a bit,without actually managing to make it cleaner.

"Sometimes you don't make a whole lotof sense," said Ron, grinning slightly. "Mostly, you just sort ofgrunt incoherently. Once you told Snape to eff off."

Harry smiled. "Well, that's somethingI suppose."

"And the other night," Ron wenton. "You kept telling Hermione not to go away. You were having some sort ofargument about Quidditch."

Harry glanced quickly over to Hermione,who was chopping up her sheep's liver, ready to add it to the bubbling potion.She didn't seem to have noticed, or heard, what they were talking about.

"Not so loud," hissed Harry."Be that as it may ... I am not in love with Hermione ... period. She isnot my girlfriend." Harry couldn't remember a lie having ever been sodifficult to tell before. True, they were not officially an item ... Hermionehad done more than confirm that when they had spoken in the Library the previousevening. However, it was true that he fancied her. Ever since she had fixed herteeth by magic, finally discarding her braces for good, he had started to noticeher more. At the time, he had been infatuated with the unobtainable Cho Chang,who was not only in the year above him, but was already going out with someoneelse. However, Cho's Father had been recalled to Hong Kong over the summer ...at least, that was what the rumour flying round the school said, though someSlytherins had made up one about her having had a suicide pact with CedricDiggory. Either way, Cho had not come back to Hogwarts that term, and so Harryhad finally had time to think about other things ... that is to say, Hermione.

"Whatever," said Ron, whoobviously didn't believe him.

"What would you do?" askedHarry, watching Hermione and Draco whilst continuing to wipe the workbench withthe single damp dishcloth that Doctor Jones had begrudged him. "What wouldyou do, if Hermione and Draco were going out together?"

"I don't know," said Ron,pondering Harry's question with an expression of deep thought creasing hisfreckled brow. "Probably ... hell. I don't know. Why such awkward questionstoday, Harry?"

"No reason," said Harry. "Iwas just thinking ... you know. What would happen if they were an item?"

"The Slytherins would turn onhim," said Ron. "He wouldn't get a moment's peace. The risk is toohigh ... he'd never try anything."

"Haven't you noticed that theSlytherins have already ostracised Draco?" asked Harry.

Ron looked up suddenly. "You don'tthink?"

"Nah," said Harry."Hermione has better taste than the world renowned poseur Draco Malfoy. Heof the gelled back hair and the snazzy designer robes."

Ron snickered. "I think you'reright," he said. "We're just talking crap. It would never happen ...and we know it!"

Harry, however, wasn't so sure. CouldRon honestly not see it? He thought it was obvious. Harry didn't considerhimself an expert on other people's body language ... but all the same, hedefinitely thought there were some signals being given out from both of them.Draco seemed to be being polite ... or at least, he wasn't actually atHermione's throat. He also seemed to be more subdued. He was deferring toHermione, letting her do the work. Though maybe that was just because Dracowasn't actually very bright. Then there was Hermione ... she seemed to beflashing her eyelids at him ... occasionally actually touching him on theshoulder. It couldn't really have been any more blatant.

"But what if it did?" saidHarry, not taking his eyes off Hermione for a second. "What if they reallydid declare their undying passion to an unsuspecting world?"

"What now?"

"How would you feel about Hermionethen? Forget Draco for a minute," said Harry.

"I don't know," said Ron."I honestly have never given it a second thought."

"Would you still talk to her?"asked Harry. "Would you want anything to do with her?"

"I don't know," repeated Ron,sounding more than a little irritated. "Look ... can we just drop the wholelove thing? I think it's making me nauseous."

* * *

"I bet you enjoyed that, didn't you,Malfoy," Crabbe said. "In cahoots with that Mudblood Granger now arewe? Thought you had better taste."

"Bugger off," said Draco,looking the other way. It was just past dinner time, and Draco was heading offto the Library for his planned rendezvous with Hermione. It was just his luck,thought Draco, that Crabbe happened to be going the same way, laden with overduebooks.

"But I don't feel like doingthat," said Crabbe, putting his arm around Draco in what any passing personwould have interpreted as a mere friendly gesture. Draco however, sensedulterior motives.

"What do you want?" he asked,trying to wrestle free of Crabbe's grip, which proved impossible.

"I want a friendly chat," saidCrabbe. "You know, like the kind we used to have."

"What about?" asked Draco,feigning not being bothered.

"I didn't like doing what we did onSaturday," said Crabbe. "I didn't enjoy it at all. It was Goyle'sidea."

"Really. Couldn't help noticing thatyou weren't objecting at the time," said Draco. "I was the one whoended up with a black eye and got punched so hard in the stomach I spent most ofthe afternoon in the toilets throwing up."

This information didn't appear to botherCrabbe in the slightest. "I'm giving you a friendly warning, Draco ... afriendly warning because I don't think you know what you're doing ... I don'tthink you've realised that you're throwing away everything ... our friendship.Everything, just because you can't stop gawking at Hermione Granger. Frankly,Draco, it's painful to watch."

"I do not have a thing for HermioneGranger!" said Draco, finally wriggling free of Crabbe. "Why doeseverybody think I do? All I did wrong was talk to her a couple of times."

"That isn't exactly how it looks frommy point of view," said Crabbe. "Come on, Draco ... admit you admireher ... admit you fancy her if you must. You aren't exactly hiding it ... youmight as well start wearing a sandwich board, or have a major leafletcampaign."

"I'm not admitting to anything,"whined Draco. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Draco. This is a friendlywarning," said Crabbe. "They don't want me to tell you this ... I'mnot even supposed to be talking to you. If Millicent, or Pansy catches me,they'll do exactly to me as they did to you. However, I'm prepared to riskgetting my lights punched out because I still value your friendship."

"That's nice to know," saidDraco. "Believe me ... you're preaching to the converted. Now, if you'djust let me go on my way ... I have a lot of studying to get on with."

"You aren't carrying any books,"said Crabbe. "You haven't even got your rucksack on!"

"I'm doing research," said Dracoin an annoyed tone of voice. "Will you let me go now?"

"Draco," said Crabbe. "Iknow you're lying to me ... but I'll let that go see? On account of me being anall round bloody nice bloke. But let me warn you, Draco. I can take so much andthen no more. If you don't ditch this Hermione thing at the hurry up, I swearsomebody is going to punch you so hard you'll be puking your guts out for aweek. Is that understood?"

Draco could do nothing but nod sheepishly.He stared down at his shoes, willing Crabbe to go away.

"It's such a lovely evening,"said Crabbe, looking around himself. "Perhaps I'll come with you to theLibrary. I was taking some books back anyway, and maybe I can help you with yourresearch."

"That won't be necessary," saidDraco.

"Oh no, but I want to," saidCrabbe.

The Library was not full. There were aboutfive other students sitting at desks, poring over the massive leather boundvolumes of magical lore in which the Hogwarts Library seemed to abound. Dracolooked around desperately, but in the half light could not tell if any of themwas Hermione.

"Wait for me here," said Crabbe,striding over to Madam Pince's desk. "I can help you look for the books youneed."

Draco could do nothing but lean casuallyagainst one of the bookcases and wait as Crabbe got his books stamped and paidhis overdue fines. He kept turning round, evidently to check on Draco.

"Pssst!" someone hissed. Dracospun round, hoping it was Hermione. Indeed it was ... she was peering himthrough a gap in the shelves.

"I thought you weren't going to showup," said Draco joyfully, momentarily forgetting about Crabbe. "Look,someone else decided to come with me. It isn't worth you risking your neck bytrying to talk to me here. I'll try and slip away from him. Meet me out by theGreenhouses. Fifteen minutes?"

Hermione nodded, and disappeared fromview.

"Draco ... who were you talkingto?" Crabbe's voice.

Draco spun round to face Crabbe, who wasstanding just behind him. Hoping to goodness that he hadn't seen exactly who hewas talking to, he said. "Nobody."

"I can tell when you're lying,"said Crabbe. "Your earlobes go all red."

Draco put his hands to his ears selfconsciously. "I was looking at an interesting book," he said. He couldfeel an itching, tickling sensation running down his spine. It felt as thoughsomebody was using him as an electricity conduit.

"You were talking to somebody,"said Crabbe. "You were whispering. If you're going to try tricking me,Draco, at least try not to make it quite so blatantly obvious that that's whatyou're doing."

"Who said anything about trickingyou, Vincent?" said Draco, playing his 'innocence' card. His Mother, whenshe was actually in a parenting mood, and passing a rare moment by not sittingat her dressing table, trying different types of lipstick, was often wont totell Draco in a patronising voice how 'perfectly sweet' he had been as a littleboy, and that he was still her 'little baby, really.' Draco hoped she was right,and not just being indulgent. From the expression on Crabbe's face, she wasbeing indulgent.

"Just watch it, Draco," saidCrabbe, putting his face close up to Draco's. "Your folks might fall forthe cute act, but not me. I'm not as stupid as you think I am," he spat thelast words with such ferocity that he sprayed Draco in the face with spittle.Draco wiped it off on the sleeve of his robes.

"Just piss off and leave mealone," said Draco, scowling at Crabbe. "I didn't ask for this tohappen to me..."

"But you see, Draco, you did,"said Crabbe, scowling back with equal venom. "I'm starting to get annoyedwith you Draco. Believe me, I don't like you so much that I'd be prepared to letyou get away with insulting me and walking off unscathed."

"Just let me go!" said Draco,raising his voice. The other students reading turned to stare at thedisturbance, and Madam Pince hissed for quiet.

"If you boys can't keep it down overthere, I will be forced to ban you."

Crabbe seized Draco by the left forearm."Come on, Draco. Let's finish this somewhere else," so saying, he ledhim out of the Library at the double.