Draco's Delicate Condition

Chapter 1 - The Dragon's Egg

It was only three days since the start of term and already Draco Malfoy was dissatisfied. It was evening, well after dark and he stepped onto the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.

'My kingdom,' he thought sarcastically as he trudged through the thick sand of the pitch, and it was. Only a few hours earlier he accepted the Slytherin team captain position to the rousing applause and accolades of Slytherin house. He stopped walking and craned his head back to stare at one of the Quidditch goal hoops that loomed 50 feet overhead.

Why can't I be excited about any of this? I'm Slytherin team captain, why don't I feel excited or scared or something, anything? I am Captain Draco Malfoy.

His fifth year at Hogwarts was underway, and in Draco's own opinion, being team captain was not due to the three years he played Slytherin seeker, with increasingly marked improvement in skill that led to his being the most adept Slytherin seeker in living memory. Nor did he believe his new assignment as team captain had anything to do with his bold leadership that came to him naturally and lead his fellow Slytherin to look to him for leadership, nor did he think his captainship came to him because of his savvy on Quidditch game strategies and his astute skill at gauging of other team's weaknesses.

Right. I'm Captain Malfoy. Just one more privilege for which I owe Father, with interest, not that I'm not paying for all this already.

Draco resented the implied debt with every fibre in his being. He was already paying back the debt to his family, through an old loan he carried within himself on behalf of the Malfoy family. When Lucius Malfoy first sat Draco upon his knee and told Draco of the dark magic that would rule his life, Draco was not old enough to understand the concept. For years his father's words meant nothing to him, but now, as a young man approaching manhood, the words haunted his waking hours and his haunted his dreams. The words now meant a great deal.

Draco mused to himself, he was no longer the child while perched on his father's knee, repeating the story of his own family obligations. Smiling as his father stroked his blonde hair and told him, 'You are a clever little boy Draco. You must remember that life is a path you travel alone. The only ones you may trust with your burdens are members of your own family, your own pure bloodlines. Remember that my clever little boy.'

Kicking his way through the thick sand of the pitch Draco thought how ironic that Quidditch, the very thing that should be helping him deal with anxieties, was the source of a good deal of his anxieties, and it was all thanks to Harry Potter. Since the year Draco and Harry entered Hogwarts, Harry, the spoiled Gryffindor managed year after year to hog all the attention an for what? Having the damnable luck to manage to stay alive. Draco grew disgusted at thoughts of what his time at Hogwarts might have been had Harry done everyone a favour and just died when he was supposed to. Draco gave the pitch sand a kick, turned and headed back towards Hogwarts castle.

A series of frantic barks rang out in the still night air. Draco gracefully twirled around, staring into the darkness across the pitch. In the light of the half moon, a huge and massive black dog raced along, throwing up clouds of sand that gleamed in the moonlight. Draco froze momentarily, the better to admire the glowing sands, then swivelled and struck off at a dead run. His long legs and light feet, beat rapidly against the thick sand but the hound was faster, careening into Draco's legs, behind the knees. Draco fell forward, and hit the sand rolling as he had been taught, his arms protectively over his neck.

Wand? Who needs a wand for a walk on the pitch. What was I thinking? Idiot!

The elephantine dog stood on Draco's back, methodically licking the back of Draco's head and hands. Sticky slobber ran down into the collar of Draco's nubby silk shirt.

'Bad boy, Fang,' a female voice called out. 'Bad, bad boy!'

'Stupid MUTT!' Draco rolling onto his back and swung his fists at the Fang. He punched the dog in the chest and the animal yelped, but like the good-natured animal it was, it stubbornly resumed licking Draco's face. Livid, Draco pushed the drooling, licking, slobbering dog's head away from his face. The stench of the dog's breath was horrendous. Still pushing the dog's head away, only one grey eye open, Draco watched a young witch running towards him. He frowned. He had recognized her immediately.

Why don't they keep that know-it-all Mudblood and that git Hagrid's stupid mutt locked away after hours, Draco thought. Can't take a walk without being accosted by inferiors at this sorry excuse for a school.

Hermione Granger skidded to a halt by Draco. Fang's heavy tail wagged heavily but energetically as the animal continued to lick Draco as it if the task was the dog's sole purpose in life. Hermione couldn't help smiling. She grabbed Fang's collar and set back her weight against that of the giant boarhound. She strained to pull the dog off of Draco.

'Off Fang! Come on boy, OFF!' She panted as she struggled against the weight of the heavy hound.

Draco swore at Hermione and tried to kick Fang, but as the dog was standing on his legs, all he could mange to do was aggravate himself further. But Hermione pulled steadily and stubbornly and eventually Fang, probably out of saliva, backed down, allowing Hermione to pull him away from Draco.

Furious, Draco leapt to his feet. Thick coils of fetid and stinking slobber dripped from his pale face and even his blond fringe glistened with the dog slobber. Draco snarled, 'I'll have that animal put down! It's dangerous.'

Hermione had the look of someone who had accidentally trod on a dangerous snake. In a manner of speaking it was exactly what she had done. She knew first hand just how fast Draco could owl his father, demanding destruction of a so-called 'dangerous' animal.

'Fang? He is as harmless as a bunny. He's just... friendly, Malfoy.'

In the half-light of the full moon, Hermione could see white hair of the angry boy in front of her, glistening with spittle under the half moon. She held her hand over her mouth so Draco couldn't see her smiling.

Angrily brushing the sand from his clothing, and swearing like a Gringotts goblin on 'free-wand-with-a-new-account' day, Draco stared at Hermione sizing her up. He figured the Granger half-breed must have grown 1 or 2 inches taller than himself since the previous spring. He took Granger's height as yet another a personal assault to his dignity.

Hermione stood firmly pulling back on Fang's collar, for the big dog was still wildly enamoured of Draco - no accounting for canine affections. Hermione laughed openly at Draco.

' Malfoy! You've changed your hair!'

She meant that his hair was cut much shorter he usual wore it, but Draco thought she was making sport of his new 'spit curls'. Add to that having been cheated out of his solitary walk, Draco went over the edge.

He barked at Hermione, 'If that animal had bitten me Granger, I'd have you have you up on charges so fast your head would spin. If I get a rash or infection from that creature's spit, you'll hear from me - you Mudblood.'

Hermione's smile evaporated so fast, it seemed like dark magic. It was not the first time that Hermione had heard Draco call her by the swear word, 'Mudblood', but as always the filthy word hit her like a sharp stone. She grew angry with herself as tears flooded her hazel eyes. She blinked rapidly and pulled on Fang's collar.

There. That's more like it, Draco thought. The sight of Hermione's unhappiness was first-rate payoff and the best thing he though had happened to him all day.

Go on swot - we got the tears, now bugger off and scoot back up to the castle.

But Hermione did not run off. She wiped her eyes with one hand, and snivelled a little, but she stood her ground and spoke.

'Malfoy... I hear you made Slytherin Quidditch Captain.' Hermione was still breathing heavily, probably more from excitement than from having run through the thick sand and wrestling Fang. She continued speaking, her voice steadier. 'I suppose that's no surprise.'

Draco bristled in anticipation of what he was sure she was going to say next, that perhaps he had bought his way to his captain's position, which considering his father's recent gifts to the Slytherin team, was not a far fetched theory.

But instead Hermione said something startling. 'Harry has admitted to me on occasion that he has to work harder every year to stay ahead of you as seeker. Of course he'd pitch a fit if he knew that I'd told you that. You won't tell on me, will you?'

Hermione's unexpected statement dumbfounded Draco.

Was that a compliment from the Mudblood? An indirect complement from Scarhead Potter?

Draco was only familiar with two responses from Granger, either tears followed by her rapid retreat, or on rare occasion, her unbridled anger. He remembered in their third year, Hermione slapped him so hard that Draco thought his grandchildren would probably feel the blow. But as a true Slytherin, Draco could only see weakness in tears. But Hermione's anger, when she showed it, was something Draco could relate to, and something he knew how to deal with.

But Hermione's poise, this friendly banter, from an inferior that he had openly insulted was something unexpected - new. It was almost as if the witch was deaf to nasty insults. As Draco carefully analyzed the new phenomenon, he gave the general impression that he was plotting the most efficient way to fillet Hermione - butterfly cuts or flank steaks? In truth Draco was not as poised as he looked, he was in fact, a bit off balance - he detested the feeling.

Out of the dark, ran three more figures, sand crunched beneath their racing feet.

'He bothering you Hermione?' asked a bespectacled teen, Harry Potter, first to arrive on the scene. The boy's black hair glistened in the moonlight.

'Potter.' Draco bristled, instantly annoyed that Harry's hair was unfairly, spit free. Draco loathed Harry even more than he loathed Hermione.

A second boy approached. Ron Weasley, whose red hair looked pale in the half-light. The Weasley family were pureblood wizards, but poor, therefore beneath Draco's notice - except for hurling scathing insults in every possible opportunity. If Draco were to take to hating Ron, it would have been a promotion of sorts for Ron.

Draco slurred as he addressed the rival boys. 'Look Potter. It's your Weasel. Always right up behind you, isn't he?'

Harry held up a hand to caution Ron from straight away leaping to attack Draco.

A third person approached, yet another redhead, Ron's younger sister, Ginny Weasley. Draco paid less even attention to Ginny than Ron. In Draco's eyes, Ginny was too insignificant to even waste a good insult on.

Harry Potter walked between Hermione and Draco and with great delicacy questioned Hermione. 'Did Malfoy... insult you?'

'No Harry,' said Hermione earnestly. 'Actually, for once, Malfoy is in the right. He is a bit put out because Fang knocked him down.' Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and she began to giggle. 'And snogged him.'

Everyone except Draco started to snicker, and when they got going the snickering turned easily and loudly into raucous laughter. Harry and Ron threw their heads back, gripped their middles and lost themselves in a fit of glee. They pointed at Draco, which irked the very dickens out of him. Hermione and Ginny whispered to each other, and giggled.

'Yes, Granger...very funny,' drawled Draco. 'See how funny it will be when I speak to Madame Hooch about an animal being exercised on the pitch.'

The friends paid Draco no mind. The laughing hadn't begun to slow down. Ron pretended to pluck and rub dog spittle from Harry's mop of hair. The four burst into fresh gales of laugher.

Must be nice having your own cheerleaders wherever you go.

Hermione spoke, 'Oh, Malfoy, easy on, we're just having a spot of fun. I'm really quite sorry. I couldn't help Fang going after you, knocking you down like that. Fang apparently loves you!'

'Awww,' chimed in Ron and Ginny. 'Isn't that sweet?'

'Fwang wuvs ickle Malfoy,' sniggered Harry.

As if on cue, a dollop of dog slobber slowly dribbled down Malfoy's forehead. Everyone, except Malfoy, snorted and hooted with merriment.

Draco abruptly stopped looking annoyed. Obviously there were other students as hard up for meaningful entertainment as he was. He took two steps toward Harry who stopped laughing and immediately took on a defensive stance facing Malfoy.

Draco drawled. 'So Potter, I hear you are the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year. I'm glad.'

'What?' Harry was taken aback. 'Pardon, come again?'

'I said Potter I am glad you are the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Now perhaps this year won't be as boring as the last four.' Draco's shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels.

'Boring?' Harry said incredulously. 'Between you and me Malfoy, I'm hoping for a nice boring year - for a nice change.' Harry's green eyes flashed, even by moonlight. 'Boring? Ron, Hermione, Ginny, can you believe how nice that would be? I only hope this year is boring! Maybe this year Voldemort won't try to serve my blood up for pudding. Maybe this year will be so boring that I can stay out of the infirmary the whole year. Wouldn't that be nice and boring?' Harry sounded rather overexcited as he voiced one of his fondest dreams - a year of wonderful complete, mind numbing, boredom.

Sure you're bored. Easy to be bored when you always get all the attention Mr. Harry 'look at me I'm sooo famous' Potter.

'I'll just run along Potter. I didn't mean to interrupt your evening.' Draco pulled one hand from his pocket and jerked a thumb towards Hermione and Ginny. 'I know you want to finish walking your dogs.'

Before Harry could respond, Ron shot forward, ramming both fists into Draco's stomach, knocking him backwards - Draco's second slam into the sand for the evening. The wind knocked out of him, Draco automatically pulled his arm back protectively over his face and threw a rapid punch, which hit Ron right in the eye.

'OW!' yelped Ron.

'Aahhggghhhh!' Draco yelled, shaking his fist, which was already beginning to swell.

'Ron no!' Hermione shouted. 'Draco's just baiting you boys for a fight!' She dropped Fang's collar and ran to the struggling boys.

Ginny just stood quietly, sucking a sugar quill and watched the floor show.

'Help me Hermione.' called Harry. The two leaped into the struggle, labouring to separate the battling Draco and Ron. Draco kicked out his foot catching Harry on the shin so hard that Harry yelped with pain and down he went. Draco then rolled towards Hermione, hooking a foot around her ankle, twisting her leg out from under her. Down into the sand went Hermione. All four of them were soon entangled, in the deep sand. Ron and Draco pummelling each other. Harry tried to break up the fight but soon found himself more interested in punching Draco. Hermione frantically tried to break out of Draco's iron clutch on her ankle.

Ron was angry to the point of near hysteria. Usually when he threw himself at Draco, Harry or Hermione stopped him. This was the first time in ages that Ron actually had a chance to throw a fist at Draco. Ron was wild to get in as much damage as he could while he had the chance. Draco was at a slight disadvantage, one of his hands occupied guarding his face and holding Hermione's ankle in a death grip with his other. So Draco kicked at Harry and Ron, the two boys yelping because Draco's aim was both good and his kicks forceful. Harry and Ron gamely struggled to subdue and/or kill Draco, as they yelped in agony, stars of pain dancing in front of their eyes as they took sharp gut and groin kicks.

Now it was Draco's turn to laugh. 'Hope you fellows weren't planning on fathering any children.'

Harry, who had after all, had the extreme misfortune to experience the vicious Crucio Curse, stalwartly struggled on in spite of the pain. He hollered between yelps of pain. 'Knock it off, all of you!'

For his part, Draco shut his eyes against the flying sand, all the while, grinning maniacally like a crocodile.

It's great to be back. Scarhead and the Workhouse Weasel, raging, the Mudblood hysterical...just like old times.

Ron's punched eye was already at the 'purple ping-pong ball' stage. Between kicks to his groin, and Draco's flaying legs, it was maddeningly difficult for Ron to strike Draco. Ron keep his eyes shut tight against the sand which did nothing for the accuracy of his fists. Wherever Ron's fist flew, Draco was no longer there. Ron was beyond livid, obstinately attempting trashing away at Draco.

Unfortunately for Ron and other of Draco's enemies, Draco spent four weeks of the summer holiday at a martial arts training in China, and two previous summers attending vampire arts training in Budapest. Even pinned in a mass of writhing boys, Draco had reflexes that made landing a punch on him tricky; eerily difficult even at point blank range.

Meanwhile, Ginny grew a little bored. She looked into the sky, sucking her sugar quill and trying to remember the names of all of the stars in the Orion constellation. Astronomy was not her best subject, but she loved the night sky.

Draco was enjoying his wicked self, indulging in his second favourite activity - infuriating his enemies. A nice fight was better than being back at Slytherin Commons, being lauded for his new position as Slytherin Quidditch captain. The fight almost seemed worth dog spit in his hair.

Hello? New turn-on... fighting the terrible trio, all at once. What number turn-on would that be? One hundred-forty five? One hundred-forty six?

Draco had made a start at a list of physically 'stimulating' situations in his mind. After a year, he still found himself adding to the engorged list with regularity.

Turning to protect his second favourite asset - his face - Draco swung his swollen fist catching Harry in the shoulder, while placing gut mashing kick to Ron. Ron was now nearly too wild to even feel pain and he continued to fail in his efforts to pay back Malfoy with hits or kicks.

'Stop it! Come on, everyone stop it!' Harry hollered when he got up enough wind to holler. He was still trying to pry Ron off Draco, or vice versa. 'Ron, I'm telling you, knock it off.'

'Tell this Slytherin slime to knock it off!' Ron roared.

Taking advantage of Harry's grip on Ron, Draco suddenly shot out away from Harry and Ron, flinging himself over and on top of the hapless Hermione. Draco gripped Hermione and happily yelled, 'Ok Granger, let's see just how much you grew over the summer!'

The air instantly filled with Hermione's ear piercing, hysterical screams. That did it.

'I said, STOP IT!' Harry scrambled to his feet and aimed a hefty kick to Draco's backside.

Harry aimed a second kick, at Draco's head, but Draco rolled clear, scrambling out of reach.

Draco yelped noisily. 'Arrgghh!' He sat up on his knees, rubbing his aching bum where Harry kicked him. As though he was only resting, Draco looked calmly up at Harry who was still infuriated and panting heavily.

'Easy Potter. Just having a little fun.' Draco's voice was maddeningly pleasant. Unlike the others, Draco hardly panted at all. He sat up pushing back his blond fringe. 'Remember Potter. You three assaulted me.'

Harry made a noise very like the growl of an angry dog.

Ron still fuming with anger, lay curled in foetal position on the sand, groaning and holding one hand on his privates and his other hand over his swollen and tender eye. Harry rushed to put a foot on Ron's back pinning him to the ground. He was unsure if Ron might still jump Draco and start fighting again - an optimistic expectation at best.

Draco rose gracefully, holding his puffy hand against his chest, brushing himself off with his other. Other than his bruised hand, Draco seemed otherwise unharmed.

'I ought to report all of you.' Draco looked at Hermione. 'Remember, if that barking cross between a hyena and an elephant is ever on the pitch again, I'll report it to Madame Hooch.'

'Oh, shove off Malfoy,' said Harry with disgust.

'Wait Malfoy!' Hermione pulled out her wand and forcefully grabbed Draco's hand. 'Here, let me,' Hermione touched her wand to Draco's hand and the swelling immediately receded; the hand was normal again.

'That's better, isn't it?' Hermione smiled at the stunned Slytherin. 'Always wanted to try out that spell,' she said with an apologetic look towards her friends.

Snatching his hand back, Draco peered curiously at Hermione. He didn't know what to make of the Muggleborn witch. His hand no longer aching, Draco felt as peaceful as a toddler that had gotten its own way. He said nothing, and strode off and away over the thick sand. As he disappeared into the dark, the four could hear Draco singing.

Ron, lying in great pain on the ground said sarcastically. 'Oh right Hermione! Make bloody sure you take care of Malfoy first. Don't mind me, your defender, rolling around in excruciating pain!' Ron flopped onto his back and groaned.

'Did you know that Malfoy could sing?' Ginny asked, her voice was full of surprise.

'And a Muggle song at that,' said Harry. 'Draco must be proper pissed from all the Slytherin celebrating.'

'If he were pissed he couldn't have moved that fast.' Ron touched his eyelid and winced as pain shot through his skull.

'Ron,' asked Hermione with concern. 'Are you all right? Your poor eye!'

'My eye is fine. Sort of.' Ron brightened into a smile. 'But I busted that prawn's fat lip anyway.'

'That was me Ron,' said Harry, fingering a bloodied gash at the corner of his mouth.

'Sorry Harry,' said Ron sheepishly.

'Malfoy. That rat-bastard is never going to change, is he?' Harry, now 15 years old, had diligently added to his vocabulary over the summer break. 'Come on, let's take Fang back to Hagrid and head back to the commons. We promised McGonagall we'd be in by 9:30. Must be that now.'

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now a few weeks into the fall term. After an unusually warm September, the month of October was frigid, making Intermediate Potions class was now even more of an annoyance to attend than it usually was. The dungeon was cold most of the year, but it was notably worse by October. It was worse because as students set their cauldrons to boiling, condensation on the gray stone walls and ceiling rained moisture down on their heads. Most students prudently wore hooded robes to Potions class.

In Potions lab one morning, Draco slouched in his chair, his legs stretched out under the table. He snarled at his table partners. 'Crabbe, Goyle, get this desk cleared, come on, hurry up.'

When Professor Snape's back was turned, Draco pulled his wand out of his robe pocket and slipped the wand up into his sleeve, out of sight. Moving his arm, he pointed the wand towards Harry and muttered 'ACCIO QUILL!', a summoning charm.

Harry's best eagle quill lifted into the air and flew to Draco's awaiting hand. Draco quickly stuffed the quill into his robe pocket. The quill was taken so quickly that by the time Harry looked up, the thief was innocently examining a pile of parchment in front of him.

Harry knew the most likely of the 'the usual suspects' was Draco. He angrily shoved his chair back, and jumped up commanding, 'Give that BACK Malfoy!' The shout was so sudden that many students jumped in their seats. Precisely the reaction that Draco had aimed for and he sniggered.

Made you yell Scarhead. Five points from Gryffindor.

Severus Snape, the Potions Professor, pounced on Harry. 'Five points from Gryffindor.'

He shoots, he scores!

Snape growled, 'thank you Mr. Potter for starting off the exam with a little mental anguish for your fellow Gryffindors. Sit down.' Time had only deepened Snape's hatred of Harry.

Harry angrily slumped in his seat and fumbled in his robe for another quill, which he began to sharpen with a small pocket-knife. Ron and Hermione peered across the aisle at Harry in sympathy and mutual exasperation at Malfoy's prank.

Draco was a bit disappointed that the hubbub died back so quickly. He swallowed his disappointment and bullied his desk partners.

'Come on Crabbe; get those bottles off the table. Goyle, wipe the table down. Hurry up, haven't got all day.'

Crabbe and Goyle did what Draco asked without complaint. They had jumped to Draco's commands since the three were small children, much as their fathers jumped to the will of the Lucius Malfoy, Draco's powerful father.

Draco looked over at Hermione, who sat only one table away by Harry and Ron. The Muggleborn Granger was practically wiggling out of her seat in her enthusiasm for the exam to start. Draco thought the witch a colossal know-it-all and show-off.

Draco and Hermione entered Hogwarts the same year, and it was in their second year that Draco came to the exasperating and unbelievable conclusion, that he was never going to surpass Granger in grades. The Muggleborn was in her own way almost as frustrating a rival as Harry Potter. Every summer upon returning home, Lucius Malfoy scolded Draco, a pure-blooded wizard of a superior family, for allowing a base born Mudblood to best him in grades. 'So Draco,' Lucius would chastise. 'You did not make the top five percent this year? That Mudblood witch beat you again, did she not?' The lecturing would go downhill from there, leaving Draco humiliated and vowing to revenge himself on the Muggleborn and all of her Gryffindor friends.

Draco could hear Hermione fussing at the next table.

'Oh, Harry, just ignore Malfoy.' Hermione looked up, eyes shining with excitement in anticipation of the potions exam. She looked across the aisle at Draco and regarded him with a haughty air. For good measure she added, 'Harry, you know how blondes need to be at the centre of attention all the time.' Tilting up her nose she stuck out her tongue at Draco.

Draco slumped in his seat. What did being blonde have to do with anything? He was bit irritated, but still he could not stop himself entertaining a few nasty, low-down, boy-thoughts about Hermione's tongue and various uses for the pink thing - none suitable for family audiences.

Pink juicy wiggly tongues... No. Tongues made the list already, ages ago.

Satisfied she had put Draco in his place, Hermione ignored him. She arranged her neat row of quills, ready for the exam, and smoothing her stack of blank parchment paper.

Filthy Mudblood - taking up space and throwing the grading curve.

Draco snapped at Goyle. 'Hurry up and sharpen those quills! You, Crabbe, get the brass scales off the table.' Draco snapped out orders, all the while staring brazenly at the Granger witch.

The dungeon was cold and Hermione shivered. She fumbled with her school bag and pulled out a jumper. Standing, Hermione unbuttoned and dropped her school robe onto her chair. Beneath her school robes, she wore her Gryffindor uniform - a pleated grey woollen skirt, crisp white blouse and a necktie.

Draco's face relaxed and his jaw slowly sagged. He slumped even further in his chair.

Hello.

For the record, it was not Hermione's new gold and red-chequered necktie that held Draco's rapt attention.

Several boys of Slytherin and Gryffindor abruptly stopped clearing their desks noting that a highly anticipated and capricious event was in occurrence. The young wizards - and in all honesty, a couple of young witches who will remain unidentified - eagerly anticipated Hermione's self-temperature regulating activities.

The bucktoothed Muggleborn witch has grown a bit over the summer; grown two bits actually. No... those are larger than 'bits'.

It was only out of ingrained habit that Draco always thought of as Hermione as being bucktoothed. The previous school term Draco accidentally hit Hermione with a Dentsaugeo Charm, a tooth enlarging charm, which Draco aimed maliciously at Harry Potter. The charm missed Harry altogether and instead struck Hermione. The error was a serendipitous good deed. When Madame Pomfrey the school medi-witch magically shrank Hermione's enchanted prehistoric beaver-sized teeth, Hermione did something very clever. She allowed the tooth shrinking charm to last until her formerly overlarge teeth were reduced to a row of perfect, pearly white teeth. Thanks to Draco's malicious intentions, Hermione's smile went from awkward to dazzling. Hermione often fell asleep nights wondering if she ought to annoy Draco Malfoy by thanking him for his misguided wand strike.

Hermione stood at her desk. Pulling her jumper over her head and onto her arms, she stretched her arms up high. Innocently, the girl wriggled and jiggled into her warm and woolly garment. One Gryffindor boy leaned so far to the lee of his desk for a better view that he tumbled over his cauldron on the floor by his feet, and landed in a heap with a loud clunk.

In a 'here we go again' voice, Snape called out. 'Another two points from Gryffindor for the disturbance.' In annoyance, Snape glared at Granger. He did not see what the fuss was about. He thought Hermione rather plain, and certainly no match for the beauties of Slytherin such as the Zabini sisters. But even Snape could recognize the well rounded physical condition of the dratted girl who was a disturbance wherever she went these days. Her very presence caused boys to stumble, fall over furniture and walk into walls. That was the way of things wherever Hermione went. Had Snape been allowed a free hand he would have had the girl permanently clothed in oversized burlap gunnysacks.

Draco stared with rapt attention as Hermione donned her jumper. His mouth hung slack, and his pale cheeks took on a warm red glow that matched a glow that was starting elsewhere on his person.

Blimey, how could I have missed those lovely jiggly bits when we were wrestling on the pitch? Damn me, but they are spectacular!

'Aagghhh!' A dried lizard ricocheted off of Draco's head. He swung around in time to see Blaise Zabini, glaring with fury at him from two tables to the rear.

As Blaise saw the situation, that Draco was now her ex-boyfriend did not give him leave to stare at other witches. For one thing, Draco had dropped Blaise to date Blaise's younger sister, Messalina. That fact alone was enough to keep lizard gizzards and decapitated toads sailing across the room toward Draco's head. But for Draco to be eyeing a Gryffindor girl - a Muggleborn witch at that, made it practically a sworn Slytherin duty for Blaise to lob solid objects at Draco in an effort to dent his skull. For a brief period during the previous school year Draco and Blaise shared a table in potions class. It took only a week before Snape assigned them to separate tables. Snape grew weary of the surreptitious snogs, and worse, the constant bickering between the two during lessons. Snape thought that teaching Draco and Blaise as lab partners was like teaching fine arts to a pair of squabbling ferrets in heat.

Draco lazily waved a hand toward Blaise telling her to shove off. He moodily rubbed the perpetual sore spot on the back of his head that Blaise had 'nurtured' since the start of term.

Father always says, 'just because a wizard is on a diet doesn't mean he can't look at the menu.'

Draco did not deceive himself about his relationship with Messalina, the younger Zabini. The girl was hot, and that amounted to his sole interest in the girl. He didn't know or care how she felt about him. The Zabini witches added a great deal of interest to his days. He only wished there was a third Zabini sister - the possibilities.

Draco's eyes had yet to wander from the 'base Muggle' who was at that moment smoothing her jumper over her hips. The innocent act of the witch donning her jumper warmed Draco more than any jumper could possibly have warmed Hermione.

That was wicked fun. Now if only the classroom could warm up so she would take off the jumper.

The classroom was certainly warm enough for Draco. Sweating, he pulled off his green and silver Slytherin scarf and loosened his tie. His eyes rolled skyward as he sunk into a delightfully naughty daydream concerning the specifics of Hermione's undeniable charms and a pot a honey.

Hermione for her part, pulled on her school robes again and sat. Shaking her head, she tossed back her mane of bushy chestnut hair. She stared eagerly at Snape. She liked Snape no better than any other student, but she was anxious for the exam to begin.

Draco was jolted from a particularly nasty sort of boy-thought, when Snape returned to the front of the class and slammed a book down on his desk. Snape looked as if he bore a personal grudge against each and every student, which of course in general, he did.

'There are 10 questions,' said Snape in his deep, unvarying monotone. '...for which I've been uncommonly liberal, allowing extra credit points for each question.' Snape's black eyes stopped momentarily on Hermione. 'Miss Granger, please control your enthusiasm.'

Draco noted with amusement that Hermione's incessant wiggling was not going unnoticed. Glancing around the room at other wizards, he chuckled to himself.

It's a wonder their eyeballs don't pop out.

Most of the boys in Hermione's vicinity were still staring at the girl, open-mouthed, sporting a peculiar sort of slack jawed gawk, as if in Hermione's proximity male intelligence had a tendency to plummet. Draco thought they all looked as if they'd been hit with Confundus Charms.

Snape slowly paced at the front of the room, his perpetual scowl on his face.

'You are all well advised to tackle the extra credit questions,' Snape shot a withering look at Neville Longbottom who, terrified of Snape, cringed in his seat.

'You have two hours for this exam and mark my words, not a second more. You can turn over your exams and begin, NOW!' Snape returned to his desk, his black eyes scanning the classroom.

'One more thing. As ever, I can make a cheater's life miserable.'

Yeah, right. Let's get this 'dog and hippogriff' show over with.

Draco sighed, flipped his exam over and read the first exam question:

Contrast the ingredients of the classic 16th century version of a basic fame potion with the 19th century version. Elaborate on how the substitution of finely ground Herniaria glabra with an infusion of tincture of castor imported from the New World, effects the finished potion. For extra credit...

Draco did not read the extra credit bit. No point since he was clueless on 16^th and 19th century potions, classic or otherwise.

Draco leaned forward on an elbow, pretending to write. He went on to the second question, somewhat encouraged by it's brevity:

Explain the uses and effects of Gabon Viper eyelids in the following: tinctures, extractions, and unicorn oil suspensions. For extra credit, explain the effects of each on ground bezoars in a basic protection potion.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, which was now damp with perspiration. This time Draco's perspiring had nothing whatever to do with Hermione - with or without jumper.

We covered the uses of viper eyelids in that lab last Spring. I recall they are only a little more common than hen's teeth, but what the hell were the snake eyelids used for? I must be turning into Neville Thongbottom, I can't remember a blasted thing.

Draco began to regret not having unrolled a single parchment scroll since the term began. Draco shut his eyes for a second, and then read on to the third question:

Belladonna is useful in many preparations of pre-renaissance alkaloids useful for medical applications. Name the most useful cultivatars of Belladonna as used primarily in the non-medical potions, and describe the best methods of preparation. For extra credit, predict how each formulation is effected by pH levels.

Draco shielded his eyes with one hand, worried that Snape, whose black eyes were still scanning the room, would be able to read the panic Draco knew was rampant on his face. Draco read on. With a sickening lurch of his stomach, he realized that every exam question was firmly grounded in textbook readings, and he hadn't stretched a scroll all term. Scanning the final, and equally unfathomable exam question, Draco sat back up.

Well damn me. No clue whatever.

An involuntary groan escaped his throat.

'Mr. Malfoy? Are you having a problem?' asked Snape from his desk.

'No. No problem Professor. A tickle in my throat. I'm fine.' A drop of sweat fell onto Draco's parchment. 'Really.' He stared at the dot of moisture on his parchment uneasily and before he realized it, Snape was standing by his side.

'Are you alright Mr. Malfoy? You look a flushed.'

Covering his blank parchment with one hand, Draco stuttered...'T... t... too many jumpers on. You know how overly warm processed yeti wool is.'

'Then remedy the situation,' Snape snapped.

Quickly, Draco opened his robe and removed his jumper. 'Yes. Well. Fine. That ought cool me down. Maybe take my tie off altogether.' Draco was so panicked that he would have rattled on but for Hermione looking up from her rapid scribbling to shoot an annoyed glare at him. Their eyes met for just an instant, and it seemed to Draco that there was no one else at all in the dungeon classroom except for himself and the glaring Miss Granger. For a second Draco lost his connection to time and place.

Why are her lips so full, the broom-haired bint?

Draco mouth seemed suddenly and inexplicably dry. He had a small coughing fit.

Patrolling his classroom, Snape scowled. 'You are sure you are well Mr. Malfoy? Would you perhaps like some water?'

Draco shook his head and sunk further down in his seat.

Feeling strangely light-headed now, Draco realized that it was time to pay the goblins. He was going to flunk the exam. Maybe he'd receive no score at all, at the top of his exam, if he managed to turn one in, he would receive a great naught, the symbol of scholastic failure - the dread 'dragon's egg'. As if that revelation were not enough, Draco realized that Scarhead, the Weasel and the Mudblood all had quills to parchment as they rapidly scribbled away.

Draco was suddenly aware of the rapidly scratching quills at his own table. He looked over to see, to his astonishment, Crabbe and Goyle scribing away like lords. Crabbe looked positively thoughtful. There was one thing that Draco could always take for granted with the certainty that the sun will rise tomorrow - his mates Crabbe and Goyle between them, hadn't the intelligence of an old pair of trainers.

Vincent knows something - anything - about tinctures? Historical formulations? Hedgehog spines in hair-restoring potions? His mother's first name? No. He must be making up his list for Father Christmas.

Snapping to, increasingly distraught, Draco flipped over the exam and scanned all of the questions a second time causing him a renewed wave of cold panic.

The entire Potions class was momentarily disrupted when a 2nd year student pushed open the dungeon door, and timidly approached Professor Snape with a note. Snape snatched up parchment and gave the young student a look that sent the small boy scurrying off. Snape stood and looked to Pansy Parkinson, newly elected Slytherin prefect. Then he looked over to Draco, speaking in a voice so low that the class had to stop the movement of their quills just to hear him.

'I am summoned to assist Professor Flitwick with an incident caused by one of your younger classmates in 1st year charms class.' Snape's eyes slowly scanned the room, and then locked onto Draco. 'Mr. Malfoy. Would you be so good as to watch the class until I return?'

Pansy looked annoyed that she was not automatically chosen, as was her right as Slytherin Prefect.

The unexpected assignment nearly caused Draco to fall off his seat but he quickly recovered. His heart pounded in his ears. 'Well, I suppose, I mean, yes, happy to Professor.'

'This should not take long. Mr. Malfoy, you can bring your exam up front if you wish, and work from my desk.'

'Yes Professor,' answered Draco with a bit too much enthusiasm. He nearly scampered up to Snape's large desk, which was piled high with books and beakers, scrolls, parchments and evil looking vials of bubbling cold boiling liquids.

As soon as Snape disappeared through the dungeon door, a whispering rose from the class. Draco stood, peering over the books that topped Snape's desk, and drawled in a loud voice. 'People. People! Don't make me report all of you. You know I'll do it.'

Point made, the whisperings ceased, and again the only sound filling the dreary dungeon was the sound of quill on parchment. Draco lost no time. Thinking no one could see much below his head over the piles on Snape's desk, Draco peered at the many parchments, and scrolls that littered Snape's desk. Draco quickly found what he searched for - a parchment scroll labelled, FIFTH YEAR - FIRST EXAM. Flooded with relief, Draco grinned. To cap off his glee, he called out in an accusing snarl, 'Eyes on your own paper Potter!'

Draco snickered as Harry looked up, peering at Draco as if the blonde was some awful bug scurrying about on Snape's desk.

Miss Granger also shot Draco a dark look, which Draco responded to by mouthing at her silently, 'Nice Pair.'

By the quizzical look on Hermione's face, he decided that despite the show-off's accomplishments, lip reading was not among her list of skills.

Nearly an hour passed before Snape skulked back into his dungeon classroom. Snape motioned to Draco, who gloating, rose from Snape's desk.

'The lot of them weren't too bad,' Draco said loudly to Snape, as he strolled back to his table. 'A couple of them were a bit too 'big' for their own good,' Draco flicked his eyebrows and hazarded a rude wink at Miss Granger that won him angry glares from Ron and Harry.

Ignoring any effect it would have on her grades, Hermione angrily lobbed a small folding penknife at Draco, hitting him on the head with a loud 'thonk'.

'Five points from Gryffindor,' Snape announced without looking up. 'Miss Granger, stop provoking Mr. Malfoy and tend to your work.'

Sniggering softly, Draco sat, all the while keeping an eye on Snape. Confident, Draco put the flourishes on his exam parchment. The signing his exam, he tossed away his quill and stretched his legs out under the table - a wicked grin on his face. Nothing left to do but leer at the Muggleborn witch. Draco used the summoning charm again, this time on Hermione's extra quills. To his great disappointment Hermione was so intently focused on her writing, that she never noticed her quills rolling onto the floor. Ron noticed and shot Draco a murderous look. Ron touched his wand on his desk as if to tell Draco, 'don't think I would hesitate to use this on you!'

Draco paid the inferior Weasley no mind at all.

A half hour passed and Snape announced, 'put down your quills - NOW. Pass your papers forward. Then copy tomorrow's assignment.'

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle exchanged snide smiles and passed their papers forward. Hermione at the next table, smiled happily at Harry and Ron, and she triumphantly passed her exam paper forward. Draco frowned and looked across at Hermione.

Really - that Mudblood needs to be taken down a peg or two. I'm just the one to do it.

'If you have all copied your assignment - class dismissed,' said Snape. He looked at Draco. 'Please remain, Mr. Malfoy. I want a word with you.'

~*~*~*~*~*~

Following Potions class, lunch was served in the Great Hall. Draco however, planned to skip lunch so he headed away from the castle. He walked rapidly, cutting across the courtyard, dodging dozens of milling cheerful students headed in the opposite direction. He was already giving serious consideration to skipping dinner. He thought it might be pleasant to just skip meals all together, or better yet, just drop dead upon the spot. Perhaps an obliging Hungarian Horntail, like the one that Harry Potter flew against last year at the Triwizard Tournament, might conveniently fly in from Budapest and eat Draco, ending his problems for good. Draco's namesakes did not seem obliged to cooperate with his gruesome wishes, so Draco chose retreat instead.

There was much for Draco to be upset about. There was his fear that his father would find out what had just happened in Potions class, pull him out of Hogwarts and send him off to Whipsnade's Reform School for Recalcitrant Young Wizards - a sort of an Azkaban for magical incorrigibles. Draco's father held that threat over his head since long before Draco became a student at Hogwarts. Once, Draco's father actually owled Whipsnade, to inquire about enrolment procedures. Only the tears of Draco's mother stopped the Lucius from reserving a room for his wayward son at the start of the fall term.

It was not however, the thought of his father's wrath that really prickled Draco's liver. It was not that Draco feared he might lose his status as captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. The penultimate situation, the true mind boggler that blasted Draco out of the water was that on his own account, Slytherin house was to lose points - about a many points as a student could lose without actually killing someone. And what was far worse - the teacher who took the points from Slytherin House was not one of the usual aggravated teachers who found fault with Draco's occasional transgressions. The aggravated teacher who took the points was none other than - Draco's former staunch supporter - Professor Severus Snape.

After Professor Snape had announced the quantity of points he was removing from Slytherin on Draco's account, Draco had sprinted to the toilets where he promptly chundered.

Draco walked briskly along, openly blaspheming a string of swear words that would have embarrassed an intoxicated goblin. He headed down from the castle towards the Hogwarts lake, overwhelmed with the idea that if he could just hurt something, or kick someone, and share the pain as it were, he might begin to feel better. Maybe something or someone suitable for a good boot in the bum would cross his path if he only walked far enough. Standing by the lakeshore, Draco stared out over the vast grey waters that were covered with tiny white caps from the wind. Draco saw that the lake's giant squid was occupied plucking tiny beige and yellow ducklings from under the bills of a duck family. The adult ducks quacked agitatedly as one duckling at a time disappeared under the grey waters. The ducks sensed something was amiss but had no idea what. Draco watched a third peeping duckling get snatched by a ten-foot tentacle.

Do I want to be swallowed up by a 'minor' set back like that stupid duckling?

Draco stared at a fourth duckling as it was pulled under the peaky waters. He sighed and envisioned the holidays when his father hoisted the traditional Malfoy family tankard and toasted in a deep booming voice. 'We are Malfoys! We shite on our enemies and bugger adversity!' His father always spoke that way after a tankard or two of premium red label Gremlin Grog. Rather than face the senior Malfoy in a bad mood, Draco thought he'd rather face Lord Voldemort, wearing a sash with large letters reading, 'Lord Voldemort wears frilly pink knickers'. There was wisdom in Draco's choice, as he figured while the Dark Lord might smite him dead on the spot, his father would be more inclined to drag out Draco's end in methods involving strips of skin removed slowly and painfully. Draco thought of the razor sharp knives that lined one wall of his father's favourite dungeon and shivered. His mother always told Draco that his father's threats were empty, but Draco thought otherwise. Once his ultimate value to his father was exhausted, he wasn't sure he would last the following hour.

Draco was also sure that Snape was going to have him expelled. He would spend the next three years of his life at Whipsnade answering to some over-muscled school disciplinarian named Bruce the Belter, 'Yes Sir. I would like another belt on the bum with that strap SIR!'. Perhaps, thought Draco, if he was lucky, his father might just strangle him with bare hands, a relatively quick and easy death. Then Draco's lifeless body could be tossed into a moat wherein rotted the remains of other beings that had the misfortune to cross Lucius Malfoy.

Hold on. Forget all of it, I'll drop out of Hogwarts and take up live as a squib.

In an impulsive flash of anger, Draco pulled his wand from his robe pocket and with all his might, heaved it far out over the water. The ducks scattered. The giant squid promptly released a small fuzzy duckling and hastily slipped back into the waters of the lake. Draco's wand hit the water with a small splat and sank like the proverbial stone. To Malfoy's great annoyance, his wand did not hit or kill any ducklings. Could the day possibly be any worse?

As Draco watched the ripples from his sinking wand, there was a disruption on the water surface. Draco expected to see the squid's tentacle re-emerge, but instead there was another splash and his wand reappeared, flying up and out of the water, soaring like an arrow, straight towards Draco. Out of reflex Draco raised his hand to capture his incoming wand, but instead of flying into Draco's hand, his wand sailed cleanly over his head. Draco span around.

Hermione stood only five feet behind Draco, her arm up stretched, holding Draco's dripping wand.

'Granger,' Draco stared at her. He realized he must look a prat, standing there lobbing his wand out into the lake. Defensively, Draco quickly put on a smarmy smirk and stuck his hands in his robe pockets. He drawled, 'What's the new Gryffindor Prefect doing here by the lake? Looking for stray first years to deduct points from?'

'I hope I didn't startle you,' said Hermione ignoring Draco's standard unkind remarks. 'I used an a summoning spell.'

'I know what kind spell you used,' Draco said irritably.

Stupid Mudblood, I ought to frog walk her into the Forbidden Forest and use her own ridiculous hair to tie her to the arse of some rabid Mountain Troll.

'I'm sorry. I know you know, I was just...' Hermione looked a little embarrassed. But she plucked up immediately, and bold as a brass Knut, stared at Draco. 'Malfoy, you didn't have to throw your wand. You could have thrown a stone to save that poor little baby duckling.'

'Duckling? Why the hell would I...?' Draco stopped mid rant.

Save a baby duckling? Why the Mudblood is mental. Fuck the ducks.

Draco again suddenly noted that Granger was just a touch taller than himself, a fact that still annoyed him. Not only had the witch watched him doing something beyond foolish - no wizard in his right mind would throw away his wand like Draco had done - but the witch was taller than he was, and she was a prefect.

The bloody cheek of the witch. Just where the hell is justice?

However, Hermione took no notice of Draco's escalating chagrin. She whispered to Draco in a conspiratorial voice. 'Malfoy, I suppose you must realize,' Hermione pointed back towards the castle, 'but... it's awful in there right now. In the Great Hall, well, everyone's talking aren't they? They all know. Everyone is...' She stopped before she said what she meant to say, which was that the entirety of the school body was laughing at Draco's expense. Instead Hermione spoke quietly, 'There is a great deal of rumour.'

Draco gave Hermione an accusing look as if the hubbub Hermione referred to was all her doing and not his. 'So? What are they saying?'

'Is it true that Snape actually took points from Slytherin?' Hermione asked dubiously.

As I suspected - No one will be able to wrap their brains around Snape taking points from Slytherin.

'Yes. He did. A great deal of points,' Draco saw no need to either lie, or to point out precisely how low the Slytherin house cache of points had sunk. That plum bit of information would become a common bit of Hogwarts folklore soon enough.

'It's like a holiday up there Malfoy. But don't worry about it. You know how they get. I mean...' She began to dry Malfoy's wand against her robe. 'People can be so cruel sometimes, when...'

'You mean, when they smell blood?' said Draco. 'Snape has taken a shite-load of points from his own house, and I was the cause. Today I made loads of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff deliriously happy.' Draco was again overcome with a wave of nausea but he pressed on. 'So, Granger, tell me more. I'd like to know.'

He wanted to say, 'I need to know'. He felt so desolate that he indulged his curiosity with the help of the Muggleborn. Might as well throw himself after the ducklings.

'It is very... bad.' Hermione sounded as though she was taking into consideration just how much unfortunate news Draco could handle. 'I mean, remember the ruckus last month? Remember? When the Weasley twins...farted out loud during Dumbledore's 'Welcome Back To School' speech?'

Draco stared darkly at Granger for a moment - however disruptive, the Weasel twin's badger gassing was not exactly a memory that seemed important under the circumstances.

'The entire school body is behaving worse now than they did for the... for the farts. It'll be a wonder if all four houses don't have their points dropped down to a dragon's egg.' Hermione looked down and studied her shoes for a bit.

Draco wondered if her down turned eyes were out of respect for him, as he had reason to expect from the girl in the presence of her betters, or if the witch was only shy.

Hermione looked up with a thoughtful expression. 'I can't stand cruel humour, so I came down here to the lake to get away. Brought my lunch with me.' She held up a half eaten sandwich from her robe pocket, as if offering proof of her sincerity. 'Then I saw you here. After all you went through you took the time to stop thinking of yourself and tried to save those poor baby ducklings from that horrid squid.'

In point of fact, Draco intended to respond to Granger's little speech about the "duckies" with, 'oh, go and shag yourself and shag the sodding ducklings three ways from Sunday, you filthy Mudblood cow'. Such a response would have reflected what was lurking in Draco's distraught, nasty and prejudiced mind. Draco opened his mouth in preparation to say as much to Hermione. But before the first hateful and nasty word could leave his mouth, the cold wind sharply whipped up from the lake. Hermione's robes blew up, rising around her legs. Draco lower on the slope than Granger, felt his face rapidly flushing as he caught a brief glimpse of Hermione's long straight limbs, clad in black wool tights, now unhidden beneath her billowing robes. Granger's tweed skirt fluttering like flower petals about her thighs, a singular memory that would pleasantly haunt the boy during randy moments for years to come. The cloud of Hermione's long chestnut hair floated about her face framing it like a painting that Draco had once admired at a Muggle museum in Paris. That painting featured a naked Muggle lady standing on a giant clamshell, her hands held modestly over her bare naughty bits, her hair curled prettily about her shoulders. Draco's nasty response to Hermione was lost, dried up like his saliva. Draco opened his mouth with intent to curse Hermione and heard his own voice in staccato rhythm utter, 'N, N, N, No...'

'What?' Hermione asked. The wind died down. The girl smoothed her robes, stared into Draco's eyes, innocently unaware of any tumult behind the grey eyes.

Hermione's misguided interpretation of Draco's inclinations towards the ducks aside, Draco felt as if Hermione was circumventing his staid, poised exterior for a direct view into the whirlwind buffeting the contents of his soul. Overcome by such thoughts, Draco experienced yet another rare sensation - he was flustered. Thinking the Granger creature was staring rudely and uninvited into his soul, Draco's face flushed hot and red, as did his favourite bit of anatomy. Draco stood quiet for a bit to clear his mind so he could think of something to say that didn't sound as stupid as he felt. But it was hard to think while feeling all... flustered. He decided to straighten out Granger's perceptions.

'I was not trying to save those sodding ducks.'

'Malfoy. You can't fool me. I saw you trying to save the duckling.' Hermione smiled. Malfoy's inadvertent handiwork gleamed, in within Hermione's pink lips - her teeth were small, white and as pretty as a row of pearls.

Draco could not control his mouth and a grin like a jack-o-lantern lit his face. 'Uh... yeah. Right. I wanted to save the duckling.'

I sound like a right git.

Hermione smiled thoughtfully at Draco. 'I don't sit around thinking about you, I don't want to give you a wrong impression,' she stared unblinking at Draco. 'But I've often thought there is more to you than is immediately obvious... Malfoy. Is there? There must be more to you than swaggering about and behaving like a total bas... being unpleasant so much of the time.'

'No. Not really. I am just a total bastard much of the time. Simple as that.' Draco worked on reducing the size of his grin, and hoped at least to turn it into an acceptable smirk.

'I'll walk back to the castle with you Malfoy. That is if you want... a friend... I mean... company.'

Draco started, and the wide grin abruptly disappeared. The Mudblood thought she qualified as his 'friend'. She was an object of his lust perhaps, but a friend? The girl was a mass of contradictions and he couldn't quite decide what to think of her. The wind picked up again, blowing the robes and skirt in a swirl of motion. Draco quickly knew exactly what he thought of Hermione. The thought brought him no comfort, and in fact, increased his discomfort. He knew if he opened himself up to thinking of a baseborn, Mudblood in such a manner then he was bound for a monumental load of trouble; both for his untried fledgling heart and for other bits of him that ached in a particularly wonderful way in the depths of his trousers.

'Malfoy,' Hermione held out at Draco's wand. Draco's wand was always 'whippy' when it was wet and now feeble sparks of green and silver dropped from the wand's end. 'Here...your wand,' said Hermione holding out the drooping, wet wand. Symbolism is never lost on a Slytherin; Draco could feel his 'happy bit' shrivelling.

Even at that point things might have recovered, but then sweetly and shyly, Hermione smiled at Draco. Abruptly the girl's smile faded. A different look spread across the girl's face and things changed as quickly as a clap of thunder. Hermione's sweet face held something that Draco could not tolerate and could not tolerate or forgive anyone, anyone at all; the look unmistakable and unforgivable, of pity.

A Muggleborn witch pities me?

Draco struggled with the unfamiliar feelings of shame and anger. Being pitied by a inferior creature was worse to Draco than any laughter echoing down from the castle. That the Muggleborn creature had a hot body did not enter into the equation.

Draco spat out vicious, hurtful words. 'Shut your gob. I don't know why I am standing here listening to a filthy Mudblood.' He spoke the words with such venom, it sounded as if he spoke in Parseltongue. Like a wolf sizing up a lamb for slaughter, he slowly walked up the slope towards Hermione. 'Go back to the castle Gryffindor. Unless you'd like to stay here and help me take care of business.' He laughed rudely and made an unmistakable and crude gesture with his hands.

Hermione backed up two steps, turned and raced up the slope back to the castle. She slipped on the wet grass nearly falling, but scrambled quickly back on her feet and continued racing up hill. At that odd moment it occurred to Draco that Hermione looked just interesting from the rear as from the front, particularly since her robes kept flying up in the back.

Certainly in previous years, any time Draco was a total bastard towards the bossy Gryffindor girl, he always felt terrific, superior and triumphant. He would have in all likelihood have shared a laugh with his companions Crabbe and Goyle, all the while making caustic witty remarks at the girl's expense. But at this moment, to his great disappointment, the only thing he felt was that he was an absolute total shite, a total blight on the earth, and he deserved to be sucked into the lake by a host of slimy giant squid's tentacles like a one of the ducklings.

Damn it. Could today be any worse? The stupid exam, and now on top of everything else, I feel strange for being mean to that know-it-all Muggleborn.

The unrecognized emotion Draco again struggled with was conscience. With a loud groan, Draco plopped himself onto the ground. He was so puzzled by the maelstrom of his conflicted emotions that he didn't care the ground was damp. It occurred to him that the Granger girl ran off with his wand. Draco stretched himself out on the ground. He dropped his head onto his fists and stared out over the lake. There was too much going on. He thought back to the worst of the day, when Snape held him back after class.

When the dismissed students filed from Snape's dungeon classroom, and into the hall, Draco remained in his seat. He sat light-headed, his neck aching, as his heart pounded as though he was racing, and not sitting awaiting his fate. It occurred to Draco that he actually felt afraid to stand up and face Snape. Snape was his favourite professor at Hogwarts, this was a man who was Draco's staunch ally, almost a friend, not someone who had ever caused Draco a moment's worry or fear. And yet, there was a discomforting edge to the tone of voice that Snape had used when summoning Draco to remain after class.

From the front of his classroom, Snape motioned for Draco to approach. Draco sat frozen for a couple of minutes, perhaps hoping against hope that Snape would change his mind and wave him on. But it was no good. Draco could feel Snape's coal black eyes glaring at him. Finally Draco stood. He forced himself to meet Snape's eyes and made a point to not blink. Long Lucius taught him not to blink in adversity - it unnerved the enemy. So Draco faced Snape, his head held high, his gaze steady and unblinking and his attitude one of studied arrogance. In short, Draco presented his 'usual' stance.

Snape wasted no time on pretence. He said evenly, 'Mr. Malfoy, you cheated on my exam.'

'I never,' drawled Draco, feigning as surprised an expression as he could muster.

'Do not bother lying to me Mr. Malfoy,' said Snape. 'Don't make this worse for yourself. One supposes that lying is beneath a Malfoy. Besides,' Snape pulled up the parchment from behind his back. 'There is no point to your lying. I have all I need to convict you. Here.' Snape unrolled a small parchment and held it out. Draco did not even eye the parchment. His gaze continued to stare at Snape, unwavering.

'Your exam Mr. Malfoy, paraphrases this parchment that I knew was on my desk this morning when I decided to leave you in charge. How quickly you jumped for the bait. I'll never know why I left you in charge instead of Miss Parkinson, who after all, is the Slytherin prefect.' Snape sounded as though he was thinking out loud. 'I always leave Miss Parkinson in charge.'

Snape was right. Pansy always minded the class in an emergency. Draco wondered why it did not even occur to him, in his own arrogance, that Snape had usurped both Pansy and the Granger witch who was also a Prefect, at the drop of a witch's hat. Had Snape left a trap for him that he then leapt into like some naive blonde rat diving for a bit of cheese?

'The parchment I carelessly left on my desk is a six year old exam paper that asks the same exact questions I gave to your class this morning, but well, you know that much by now. You do not know why I had this lying about on my desk. This parchment serves as a reminder to me. A reminder of the abysmally low level the worst of my students can sink to if I 'let sleeping dragon's lie'. A smile that quickly flickered into an angry glare flashed on Snape's face. 'Kept this parchment, as a novelty really. Not many times in a teacher's career does a student earn a paper that earned a score of 'minus 50 points'. But I couldn't bring myself to write the score on the parchment.' Snape looked thoughtful. 'I did considered writing across the parchment, 'what were you thinking you sodding great pudding-for-brains, pillock?' but then I thought better of it. A cousin of Crabbe's turned in this parchment.'

Snape glared at Malfoy, his face twisted in disgust. 'Mr. Malfoy. This exam you copied from would embarrass a Mountain Troll. How could you, my former best pupil, read this error-ridden...crap...and think it was anything but a joke? Haven't you cracked a book this term at all? What has dulled that rapier sharp mind of yours Mr. Malfoy?' Snape looked genuinely puzzled. He shook his head with sadly. 'Today I thought, what the hell. Mr. Malfoy seems to need a bit of distraction today. Well, perhaps he'll enjoy being given consideration over two prefects. So although I thought to place this bit of nonsense in a drawer before I left, I did not. I left it on my desk, unwittingly leaving for you, a simple trap, and you leapt in, ate the cheese and licked the trigger clean.'

Draco's felt the numbing sensation again. He felt as if Snape had hit him a jelly-legs charm. He could not open his mouth to say anything. And anyway, what was there he could possibly say in his own defence? Draco was caught red-handed, cheating in the Snape's class: a teacher, who had always shown Draco kindness to a fault, a teacher who always thought that Draco had worth beyond his family's wealth. Then Draco did something he normally only did in the presence of his father. He lowered his eyes, from shame. He had only ever experienced shame - that highly unsettling ego draining emotion - at home in the presence of his father. Shame in the privacy of his own home seemed now extraordinarily different than shame in the near public arena of Hogwarts. Draco's heart felt like a shrivel fig, as shame overcame him where he least expected it - in Professor Severus Snape's classroom.

'And all this leads Mr. Malfoy, to something I have hesitated to discuss with you. I have laboured under the presumption that you would be able to recover yourself without a word from me. I've watched your work habits disintegrate the last few months of your forth year. My colleagues assumed the upset from the Triwizard Tournament put you off your work. From your first year at Hogwarts your teachers thought you a cinch for prefect, and later, for Head boy. With some effort, I managed to convince the others you were merely experiencing a bit of a slump. But as I kept my eye on you, I thought you grew increasingly indifferent to the quality and in your attitude towards your work. Mr. Malfoy, it was touch and go that you were allowed the Quidditch team captain assignment this year. You ought to have made Prefect.'

Snape's voice sounded so concerned, so apprehensive, Draco could barely stand to listen to him.

'I have wondered whether I inadvertently done you a grave disservice Malfoy. My indulgences towards you over the past four years, meant to encourage and embolden you, evidently encouraged your carelessness. I have come to realize I perhaps fostered in you, an unnatural tendency towards sloth. 'Snape turned and walked back to his desk.

Draco's heart pounded in his chest and he felt nauseated as he started at the back of Snape's long black hair, shining with grease under the light sconces.

Abruptly, Snape span around, and faced Draco, the teacher's black eyes bore down oppressively at Draco. Snape shouted at the top of his lungs, 'No more Mr. Malfoy. No more!'

Draco jumped involuntarily.

'On your head Mr. Malfoy, I take, I remove... one hundred points from Slytherin house. Tomorrow you will show up for class ready to work. You had better spend your evenings doing more than playing Slytherin Wizard's Chess with your inexhaustible supply of girlfriends.' Snape added quietly. 'Get out of my sight.' The soft voice was far more terrifying to Draco than the previous scream.

Draco stood rooted to the spot. He began to realize he was shaking.

'I said GET OUT!' Snape's voice echoed through the dungeon. Draco turned and bolted out of the classroom.