Heart's Desire

Poor Harry was in an agony of confused betrayal.

Not only did Hermione now seem to be on a first-name basis with his nemesis, she was beginning to show an alarming amount of interest in Draco that Harry wished she would bestow on a worthier candidate- namely, himself.

He'd simply woken up in the middle of the night, wakened by an errant gust of wind that had swept into the tent and chilled the back of his neck, and noticed the empty beds. Leaving the tent to search for the missing occupants, he'd heard muted voices by the dragon pen and had approached.

He had of course taken cover as soon as he had noticed who the speakers were- Harry, being a Gryffindor, naturally had a high sense of honor- but even the best can compromise their honor at times.

What he heard horrified him.

Here was Hermione- his own Hermione- getting cozy with his enemy. Here she was, actually showing feeling for him. Harry was not accustomed to people pitying other people above him. It wasn't like he was fond of other people's excessive pity of him- in fact, he rather detested it- but still, Hermione's evident pity of Draco completely threw him; by Harry's current standards, Draco seemed a very lucky shipper indeed. He was wealthy, spoiled, and actually had a family. But when Draco spoke of his father's methods of punishment, Harry grew uneasy. He tried to comfort himself by reminding himself what a taste Draco had for exaggeration, and managed to restore a measure of stability to his thoughts. But as he watched Draco's growing trust of her, and her growing trust of him, he couldn't help but feel both physically and mentally sick.

He watched as Draco got up abruptly, and walked back to the tent, leaving Hermione alone by the rock. He waited until she followed before getting up himself, and stumbling back to the tent.

He stole back to bed soundlessly after waiting and watching at the tent flap to make sure Draco and Hermione were asleep within. Yet he couldn't sleep.

"Something wrong?"

The quiet voice nearly shocked ten years off Harry's life.

Muted blue eyes were gazing at him through the oppressive half-darkness. He slowly recognized the shadowed red hair above it and realized Ron was awake.

"Huh?" Harry mumbled intelligently.

"Something wrong?" Ron repeated patiently. "You came in, looking like you'd seen a ghost."

Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustrated agitation as all his worry came flooding back. His fingers caught on a snarl in his locks, and Harry winced.

"Not quite a ghost," Harry said wryly through gritted teeth. "A certain Gryffindor and a certain Slytherin having a little moment down by the dragon pen." Ron wouldn't laugh. Well, at least he hoped Ron wouldn't laugh. He could tell Ron. He felt an incredible need to get this off his chest. He wanted to have someone who would be indignant with him.

Ron was silent a moment. The moonlight coming through the tent flap traced flickering silver lines along the curve of his shoulder and shimmered across his crimson hair. It shone briefly across his handsome freckled face, which had once been too long-nosed and angular. His eyes flicked briefly to where Hermione lay, before crossing the corner Draco was in.

"What kind of a moment?" Ron finally asked roughly, his eyes narrowing to glittering blue slits. For a single wild moment, Harry thought Ron's eyes looked like those of a wolf- wild, unfettered, beautifully free.

"Oh, you know, the usual kind of conversation you hear between Hermione and Malfoy. I want to get to know you, I want to know what you're like, I feel so weird and tingly when I'm around you!And then after that, it's a deep moment of looking into each other's eyes, feeling as if you're looking into the deep pools of their souls. Then, it's a little complaint session about how strict your father is, and all those things that he does to you. Then, you get to put a little Dark Magic on your partner, and find out the deepest secrets of their inner hearts," Harry snapped, angrily regurgitating every piece of exaggerated romantic mockery he had ever heard and putting the whole pile into his long-winded speech.

"Shhhh... keep it down, Harry. Calm down," Ron whispered bracingly, even though his mind was on the verge of exploding from the shock of hearing such a statement. Three years before, Ron wouldn't have had such self-control. But Ron, having found over the past year that he had to be increasingly strong for both himself and for Harry as well, had slowly begun to become less rash. "Just think a moment. Are you sure that's.... that's what they were insinuating?"

"Yeah," Harry said distractedly. "I just feel like there's this connection forming between them, and I can't break it. I feel so... cut off, somehow."

Ron shook his head. "Don't get fatalistic on me..." He lowered his gaze. "But I can't believe Hermione would do this!" he finally said in a fierce whisper, regressing to earlier behaviors. "Sympathizing with Malfoy!"

Harry was beginning to feel a little better, as if some of the weight were being removed from his shoulders. "There's not much we can do about it now," he murmured, glancing over at Hermione longingly as if he wished it were otherwise. "But maybe I should talk to her in the morning..."

"Maybe we should talk to her in the morning," Ron corrected darkly.

Harry shrugged, and as he and Ron lay back down, tiredness suddenly besieged Harry's mind. He fell asleep before he had had a proper chance to think about why exactly Hermione had suddenly wanted to get so close to Malfoy.

* * * * *

The next morning found the four packing up in their tent, getting ready to leave. Draco and Hermione seemed to be keeping a remarkable amount of distance between themselves, and whatever looks they did exchange were once again distant and indifferent. Harry was supremely confused by this development and thought maybe it had to do with something that had been said last night.

Charlie came in presently to check on them. "Are you sure you guys are alright?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice. "I mean, you don't want to stay for another day or so, do you? We'll be here for a while anyway..."

"No, it's okay," Ron said. "We need to get going anyway. To get the next item for Draaaaaaco here," Ron said, mockingly singing out Draco's first name whilst shooting a nasty glance at him. Even without the nasty glance and mocking tone, Harry would immediately have known that this was a taunt, because Ron always used Draco's surname when referring to him. Draco's slim ebony brows lowered slightly over his slanted silver eyes, but he said nothing in retaliation, instead turning his back on Ron and lowering his eyes to his belongings.

Ron was slightly taken aback. It was rare that you could get an insult off on Draco Malfoy without him retaliating in the cruelest of ways. He wondered if it had something to do with what occurred last night, and wished he'd seen what had happened.

"Okay," Charlie said in that maddening teens-will-be-teens tone that young adults so often had. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Yes, up somewhere in the middle of England," Hermione finally said, consulting the map that Dumbledore had provided. "Just southeast of Colchester, actually."

Charlie frowned. "Colchester? Isn't that on the east coast?"

Hermione looked back at the map. "Yeah."

Charlie came over to look at the map. "Just cut across the land to Chelmsford then, and follow the coastline from there," Charlie said. "Look, Dumbledore recommends that too." Sure enough, a faint red line on the map left London and cut diagonally across to the coastline east of Chelmsford, hugging the coastline until it arrived at the dot that marked their destination. "If you keep to the coast, you can't miss it. Your destination looks like it's right by the sea."

"Veela by the sea?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows, looking over Hermione's shoulder at the map. Somehow, veela hadn't struck him as the type who would linger by the seashore.

"You're going after veela?" Charlie said sharply, a worried look crossing his face. He directed this look at Ron in particular. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Ron said crossly, resenting Charlie's tendency for overprotectiveness where his brothers were concerned. "But hopefully Malfoy will have a little accident."

"Veela won't touch me," Draco said coolly, some of his old arrogance returning as he clasped his bag with a snap. "Veela-blooded men are rare. The usual product of a veela-human liaison is a full-blooded veela female. That's how they reproduce. But sometimes you get a male instead of a female, with only half the blood of the veela. I have enough veela blood for them to leave me alone; it dilutes at a rate of ten percent each generation."

"You said your grandmother was a veela..." Harry pointed out coldly.

"So in effect, that makes your father a dud," Ron finished with a grin.

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco said automatically.

Charlie gave Ron a stern glance, and Ron retreated, still smirking.

"All right then..." Charlie said, though he still looked skeptical. "I guess you'll be leaving now then."

"Yes, we'd better get going," Hermione said brusquely, gathering up her belongings and leading the boys out of the tent.

"Be careful," Charlie called after them.

They had barely left the camp area, however, when Harry looked around at the group to take in the situation and discovered that they were one person short.

"Where's Malfoy?" he asked.

The three paused, and retraced their steps, looking left and right for the missing Slytherin. Finally, as they approached the fringes of the camp, they spotted a familiar platinum blonde standing by the dragon pen and hastened over.

Draco was gazing up at the dragon, growling softly in Dracentongue, and didn't hear their approach. Not until Hermione said curtly, "Draco, we're leaving," did he even notice their presence. He turned slowly, a look of mock hurt on his face.

"Just saying goodbye," he said.

"Yeah, well, you've said it, and now it's time to go," Harry said dryly. Draco frowned, but followed slowly.

As they left the camp area once again, Harry and Ron dropped back slightly so that they walked beside Hermione.

"So... how is it going, Hermione?" Ron asked meaningfully.

"Huh?" Hermione looked up at him with an expression of genuine bewilderment. "Oh. Fine."

Harry knew better than to come right out and tell Hermione he'd heard what had happened last night; she'd fly into a righteous anger that he'd been 'eavesdropping' and refuse to speak to him for a month.

Instead, he said shrewdly, "You look distracted. Are you sure that something- or someone- isn't bothering you?"

Hermione turned her gaze on Harry with that penetrating look he knew and feared. "If you're talking about Draco, he's been perfectly tolerable and I think you've misjudged him entirely. Well..." she reconsidered as she recalled Draco's talent for barbed remarks, "Maybe not entirely."

"Draco?" Ron cut in. "You're calling him by his first name?" A note of indignation had entered his voice.

"A group can't operate efficiently if the members aren't at least familiar with each other," she replied waspishly. "How do you think we're going to be able to put up a fight if we keep arguing amongst ourselves?"

"He's the only problem here," Harry said shortly with a nod at Draco, who walked off to the left, by himself.

"I think you two are the problems," Hermione replied, sounding uncannily like Professor McGonagall.

Hermione didn't seem to want to talk anymore, as she had diverted her gaze and fixed it squarely on the horizon, so Harry and Ron decided to leave her alone. When she got into one of those moods, she was simply unmanageable.

* * * * *

There was a knock on Dumbledore's office door.

"Come in," the headmaster called.

The woman who entered was evidently getting on in age, but this didn't seem to have slowed her one jot. Her eyes were the alert, aloof eyes of a cat, and her movements were smooth.

"Arabella," Dumbledore said courteously, rising to greet her. "How have you been faring?"

"Well enough, Albus," Arabella Figg replied, a certain touch of bitterness entering her voice. "So far so good. The Muggle world remains relatively undisturbed, despite some reports of Death Eaters making sport of them, and the wizarding world, apart from a rising sense of fear, seems to be intact other than the odd murder. Seems to me like the Dark Lord is waiting, gathering strength for something; a big strike against something, maybe."

Her voice was curt and her report efficient. By taking her Animagus cat form, Arabella had been able to serve as a monitor of general conditions in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, something Dumbledore appreciated, as she was one of the few magical people settled enough into the Muggle world to know how to get around in it.

"Does anything stand out in your memory?" Dumbledore pressed, as if sensing the hesitation behind her sudden silence.

"I've noticed a few Death Eaters beginning to mobilize here in Scotland," she said presently, "and a general stirring of Dark creatures in this general direction. I am guessing that Voldemort is sending them summons... calling them to him... however, due to Hagrid and Madame Maxime's efforts last year, the giants have remained in Eastern Europe and seem to have, thankfully, refused his summons. The last purging of their numbers by Aurors seems to be fresh in their memories, and they aren't eager to get into this fight, thin as their numbers are. The Dark creatures coming up the country are keeping to themselves in general, and aren't going out of their way to attack anyone.

"That is all I've been able to observe since I last met with you, Albus. Voldemort is keeping himself well concealed, as usual," Arabella said wryly.

Dumbledore nodded, gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you."

Arabella let herself out.

* * * * *

The four decided to proceed on foot for this journey; the flight from Hogwarts to London had left all of them sore, and none of them were eager to get on the broomsticks again for a while. They had to use the broomsticks once- to cross the Thames River- but as soon as the crossing was made they leapt off the brooms as quickly as possible. They hiked for a while, quickly and efficiently wending their way to the coastline east of Chelmsford in two days.

The forests began to give way to the rocky cliffs and sands of the coastline, and while Ron felt increasingly uncomfortable at leaving the forests, Draco became increasingly comfortable as the hiss of the sea became audible. Harry, however, remained neutral, and Hermione gazed at the sky, muttering something about the unnatural calm of the winds before lowering her gaze to her path.

Draco felt a sense of calm wash over him as he laid his eyes upon the shifting sea, and tasted the sharp salt in the air. This was his element.

They meandered slowly along the coastline for a day or so. Harry was beginning to feel his suspicions ebb as he observed no more interactions between Draco and Hermione. Draco kept his gaze confined to the sea, and Hermione seemed to have developed a penchant for turning her face into the wind whenever it blew.

"They do seem to have drifted apart, haven't they?" Ron remarked presently, his words mirroring Harry's thoughts. "Are you sure you saw what you saw that night?"

"I'm sure!" Harry said, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. "I think Hermione said something that night that really... well, turned Malfoy off, so to speak. At the end, he just got kind of cold, and changed the subject."

"Well, what did she ask?"

Harry's eyebrows crinkled in an expression of exasperation. "Something about his father, I think."

Ron's eyes sparked clear distaste. "Well, that's perfectly normal. Talking about Malfoy's dad would tend to make a person want to change the subject."

Harry sighed.

* * * * *

A hawk owl soared on quiet wings towards a small residence on the fringes of a forest. Landing outside a window, it tapped on the glass, asking the man who stood inside to let it in.

The man standing at the bookshelf turned at the sound, and swiftly crossed the room to open the window. The owl handed over its message with a dignified air, turned, and flew off again, heading north. The man directed a nervous glance outside at the waxing crescent moon before shutting the window again and opening the letter.

A large black dog padded into the room, alerted by the noise of the closing window.

"It's a letter from Dumbledore, Sirius," the man said to the dog.

The outline of the dog blurred, became indistinct, and became the outline of a tall black-haired man. "What does it say, Remus?" Sirius asked.

Remus blinked at the letter. "That he thinks very highly of our skills in the Defense Against the Dark Arts field."

"What?" Sirius edged behind Remus to look at the letter himself. "Oh. So Dark creatures are moving up the country and he doubts that Fudge will take the action of letting wizards go out to suppress this movement, seeing as he's mortally afraid of making a 'wrong decision'." Sirius snarled. "The Minister's a fool. What could possibly be wrong with halting a rampage of Dark creatures?"

"People may not want Hit Teams running all over the country having bloody battles with Dark creatures in their backyards," Remus replied reasonably. "Or maybe they just don't know about the creatures. Dumbledore says they're keeping to themselves, other then the odd attack on the Heirs. You know what kind of man Fudge is."

"If he is a man at all!" Sirius ejaculated vehemently. "He's completely ground to a halt, nothing is being done, and all because he's afraid of tarnishing his reputation?"

Remus shrugged, unfazed by Sirius's outburst. "I hope Arthur and Mundugus will be able to remedy that. He says he's sent a letter to them asking if they can get a few Hit Teams out under total secrecy both to the Ministry and the general population, but in the case that that's not possible, I guess we're sort of the backup, though he says we are mainly to clear out the Dark creatures that are too close to our Heirs. If they can get Hit Teams, they'll be the ones to do the major cleaning. We need only concern ourselves with the ones Voldemort assigned to tail and harry the Heirs."

Remus read further down, frowned. "But here he says to leave them alone and not to make our presence known to them."

"What?" Sirius said again. "I can't even let Harry know I'm there? I'm his godfather!"

Remus glanced up. "And, like a good godfather, you will follow and make sure he's safe.

* * * * *

Activity increased again as night fell. The group had already had hours and hours to wrestle with their own thoughts, and were eager to get out of the confines of their own minds. Hermione seemed to come out of her shell, and held her own in a conversation with Draco, Harry and Ron about where they would settle for the night. Ron was firmly of the opinion that they should return to the forests to make camp, while Draco was reluctant to leave the sound of the water. But seeing as, after Harry and Hermione made their opinion known, Draco was outnumbered three to one, their course turned west into the forests.

There were a few moments of silence as they made their way through the forests, looking for a clearing, before Draco vehemently said something rather offensive.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron turned as one to behold poor Draco caught in a bush. His wings had apparently chosen to make another appearance, and they had snagged on the grasping vegetation.

Hermione went back slowly to help him extricate himself, and after fifteen seconds of struggling and stifled moans of pain and exasperation, Draco came free, looking rather bedraggled. His wings were thinly lacerated- slim red lines criss-crossed over the ebony skin. Evidently the plant hadn't wanted to give him up without a fight.

Hermione said nothing, but poked his wings with her wand, healing the cuts. Perhaps she had done so a little more forcefully than necessary; Draco flinched back each time her wand touched him. After this was done, the group moved on.

Ron was slightly uneasy- the last interaction between Draco and Hermione had been performed in complete silence. He vaguely wondered what to call the relationship between the two now. Before that night, Hermione had harbored a sense of neutrality towards Draco. That Ron could deal with. But Hermione's faint coldness puzzled him. Ron had a feeling that what had been said that night had set Hermione back a moment. But he fully expected to see Hermione begin her mysterious campaign on Draco again soon.

A clearing was found soon enough. Camp was set up, and all other necessities performed. Hermione slowly, as predicted, began to return to her normal nature. Draco still held his unusual silence, however, following his companions' movements with an eerie silver gaze that unsettled Harry. Harry got the impression he was doing a bit of thinking. While the Gryffindors made small talk idly as they sat around the fire, Draco remained aloof, preferring to remain at the fringes of the firelight, wings curled around him in an almost protective gesture, grey eyes contemplative. The flickering firelight reflected off the black of his wings, splashing red highlights across the skin and giving the impression of slithering, lambent movement. He remained that way for a while after the Gryffindors had made up their beds, watching the skies, following the curls of smoke that rose lazily from the flames.

"Are you going to sleep at all tonight?" The sudden noise startled Harry a moment, and he realized belatedly that Hermione had finally spoken to Draco.

Draco looked equally surprised. There was an air of faint distraction about him as he replied, "Yeah." When Hermione did not remove her gaze, he got up and made his way over to where he had laid his possessions. Only then did Hermione seem to dismiss him from her attention.

* * * * *

In the morning, it looked as if Draco, sans wings, had either resolved his internal conflict or decided that constantly mulling over it wouldn't help much. He did seem tired, but not tired enough to pass up the chance to resume his verbal war against Ron.

"I don't see why we can't stay in the forest," Ron mumbled. "We can still see the coastline from here."

"Both Dumbledore and your brother told us to stay to the coastline," Draco said acidly. "And right on the map it's marked that we should walk by the sea. And you want us to traipse along through the forest!"

Ron scowled, but saw immediately that from Hermione's expression, she too thought it would be better to stay to the coastline. He glanced towards Harry, who said reluctantly, "It does say we should stay by the coast..."

Ron followed without a word.

The brisk walk that followed was interrupted only once when Draco did the first truly clumsy thing the Gryffindors had ever seen him do.

Draco suddenly just stumbled, and, falling to his knees, collapsed unceremoniously upon the ground.

The group straggled to a halt uncertainly, looking at one another. Hermione took a hesitant step towards Draco.

And then the wings burst again from Draco's back and his head snapped up, his now pupilless eyes filled with silver fire. Only now they weren't just silver, though it was the predominant color. They were silver splashed with green and black and iridescent shimmers of internal light, and they sent chills down Hermione's back.

Get back, human, and I might not hurt you, came his hissing voice into Hermione's mind.

Hermione halted in utter confusion. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry and Ron reacting similarly.

"Draco...?"

The Slytherin's hands dug into the earth, and Hermione realized with a jolt that they were tipped by nails that could easily be called claws. He hissed again, more of a warning sound than anything else, and she noted his canines, long and slender. Somehow, they didn't look like the fangs of a vampire, which were shorter...

Dragon... The word wrote itself in white fire across her mind. Dragon fangs... dragon claws... dragon mind as well?

She retreated hastily from Draco, was faintly aware of urging Harry and Ron to follow suit, and then Draco simply rose from the ground with a flashing flurry and vanished through the treetops with three strong wingbeats.

"What is going on, Hermione?" Harry demanded. Hermione whipped around, seized Harry's hand, and dragged him along as she ran to keep up with Draco, who was skimming low over the trees.

"He's like a dragon now... didn't you see? Dragon claws... dragon fangs... I'm willing to bet he's got the mind of a dragon now, even," Hermione panted.

"Well, that should be an improvement over his normal mind," Ron remarked wryly as he was pulled along by Harry.

"Oh shut up, Ron, this is no time for levity," Hermione snapped.

Suddenly Hermione put the brakes on, and skidded to a halt. Harry and Ron both crashed into her; the tangle wobbled precariously but remained upright.

"What now?" Harry moaned.

"Look. He's diving," Hermione said brusquely.

"Have I mentioned that constantly chasing after Malfoy is getting rather redundant, and, oh, shall we say, stupid?" Ron said after a pause.

"Yes, Ron," came two voices simultaneously.

Draco had vanished into the brush; Hermione waited patiently for further noise, but heard nothing.

Then there was a faint crack.

"Uh oh," Ron said, almost cheerfully. "That can't be good."

Hermione ignored him as she edged forward through the brush. There was a pause, before she suddenly stopped short in horror, then backpedaled quickly, almost running over Harry. She looked faint.

"What has he done now?" Harry wondered, taking a few steps forward and looking for the source of Hermione's hurried retreat.

There was a coppery smell in the air that made Harry stop dead. After a very pregnant pause, during which Harry shakily drew the sharp scent with a hiss along the sides of his tongue, he ventured forwards again.

Draco was backed against a tree, eyes as wide as Harry felt his own must be. The blonde was smeared in blood, but otherwise looked quite normal; all his dragonish aspects had melted away. What really caught their attention was what lay a short distance away.

It was the barely recognizable body of a young deer, no more than a fawn, really. A pair of puncture holes were punched in its throat; these two holes were still leaking blood. But the rest of the fawn's body was mangled by long, raking slash lines and vicious tears. It looked as if a big cat had been at it.

Ron had joined them, while Harry, Hermione and Draco had been staring. He surveyed the scene with an appalled expression.

Draco raised his head. The blond hair was matted with crimson, the sharp white face streaked in macabre patterns. "Can you..." he paused a moment, his question directed at Hermione in particular, "tell me... why... this?"

Hermione didn't reply. She was staring at Draco, looking as if she were thinking very hard.

"What kind of dragon cursed your ancestor?" she asked suddenly.

Draco looked startled a moment, before his expression faded into a sort of shocked stupor, akin to the expression most soldiers wore after a particularly long and bloody struggle. "Antipodean Opaleye," he finally rasped. "Why?"

"What happened to your other relatives? The ones who got this curse?" Hermione continued. She sounded perfectly calm, other than the fact that her voice was shaking slightly.

"Nobody knows," Draco said eventually. He seemed unable to form sentences longer than two words. "They vanish. Disappear."

Hermione imagined that he could still feel it- the sensation of the flesh tearing beneath his teeth. Though he must have broken the neck first- there had been no scream.

"Did your ancestors ever get claws?" Hermione said bluntly.

Draco's chin slumped onto his chest. "They got dragon-like features. That's a symptom. Normal. If you can call that normal."

"What if those were just symptoms of a bigger symptom?" Hermione continued. "What if the curse makes the victim become the creature they were cursed by? Poetic justice. You try to hunt down and kill a creature. You live out the rest of your life as one."

Draco's head snapped up again. "What?!"

"Consider your symptoms," Hermione said harshly. "Pupilless iridescent eyes. Black wings. I suppose they're threaded with silver and gold by now? The fire you produce is vivid scarlet. You'll be getting pearly scales next."

Draco's eyes fixed on her with an intense gaze. "How could something like that happen and not be documented? It has to have been observed at least once!"

"A sudden change perhaps. Luck, maybe. Or maybe, that's another factor of the curse. It's magically fixed to happen when you're alone, when no one's there with you. No one knows what happened to you- the curse prevents it- so no one can help you or prevent your death when the hunters come after you," Hermione rattled off. She was getting to like this curse less and less.

"So how much time do I have left?" Draco contemplated. I already lost my mind once.

No one answered this time.

Oh great, Draco thought resignedly in the silence that followed. I get to be a dragon with a vampiric bloodlust. Damn the perverse vampire who stuck his blood into my family line. What the hell is with this curse? Makes you lust for blood and turn into the creature you got cursed by...

* * * * *

"We should be getting close to our destination about now," Hermione said after a three-hour walk. She took out the map to check. The four paused, noting with some unease that now, instead of beaches, they were traveling along a short stretch of cliffs- sheer fifty-foot drops into what looked like pretty deep water. Apparently, the cliffs were overhangs, concealing the shallower water beneath them. And, from the height of the cliffs, they could now see where the land sloped downwards and opened into the mouth of the river Colchester was located on. "In fact..." and she squinted suddenly at the map, "we seem to be right on top of it."

"What?" Harry, Ron, and Draco all came over to look. It was unmistakable- the map firmly dictated that they were right where they wanted to be.

Ron glanced around in bewilderment. "So... where are the veela?"

"I didn't expect them to be right out in the open," Harry said uncertainly, "but there doesn't seem to be anyplace they could be."

"Maybe they're in the forests," Ron said. Hermione tucked away the map as they began to search.

They looked around the area in as wide a sweep as they could without leaving the dot that represented the location of the veela, but even careful search was fruitless. The four then split up, setting a meeting point they were to return to.

"I don't get it," Hermione said angrily as she approached Draco, who had been searching back by the coast and had already returned to the meeting point. Harry and Ron hadn't returned yet. "Where are the veela?"

"Could your precious, perfect headmaster have made a mistake?" Draco said bitingly. He'd already bounced back from the shock of three hours ago, and was being scathing once again. "All humans err, after all."

"He can't have made a mistake!" Hermione insisted. "He wouldn't make mistakes on something as important as this."

"Oh, touching, Granger, you think that getting these ingredients is important," Draco flared. A nearby patch of grass burst into brilliant scarlet flame, reflecting Draco's mood.

Hermione almost unconsciously snuffed the flames. "Of course it's important!" she retorted. "Because if we don't find those veela, we have to suffer the constant annoyance of your vampiric and/or dragonish moments and the random spontaneous combustion of things around us, which, contrary to what you might think, aren't exactly very endearing traits!"

Draco looked taken aback, but only for a moment. "Oh, that's nice, Granger," he said acidly. "It's all for your own personal gain and convenience, isn't it?"

"Of course it isn't!" Hermione reiterated. Her hands were clenched.

"Then why is it important?" Draco demanded.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to answer, but no sound came forth. She closed it again, wrestled for an answer. Finally, after a moment, she stepped back, her voice almost like a whimper as she asked, "Why are you asking so much of me?" Her hands unclenched and hung limp. "Why are you asking me to define something I can't?"

This sudden mood change, so typical of teenaged females, threw Draco completely, and his own mood suffered such an abrupt swing that it made him feel physically sick, as if he'd had a go on a roller coaster- several times. He remember the indefinable qualities of his own feelings towards everything concerning her, and he cringed away from her just as she cringed away from him.

The quiet was broken by the return of Harry and Ron. Harry glanced at Draco, who was avoiding Hermione's eyes, then glanced at Hermione, who was avoiding Draco in general, and immediately sensed that something had transpired.

"What happened?" Harry asked shortly of Hermione.

Hermione reluctantly met his gaze. "Nothing," she muttered, "nothing."

Ron threw Draco a suspicious glance, started to speak, but Harry stopped him- making demands and throwing insults at an unresponsive Draco wouldn't help anything other than Ron's temper.

Also, Harry had heard something.

"Did you hear something?" he asked, cocking his head slightly towards the noise. And now the others heard it too- a sort of wild shrieking.

"We have to get back into the forest, now," Draco said sharply and suddenly, startling the other three. His agile mind, conditioned by years of Lucius's battle stratagem lessons, immediately identified the main problem with their current location.

"But the sounds are coming from the forest!" Harry protested.

"Think for once in your charmed life, Potter! Do you want to be cornered here with our backs to the cliff?" Draco snapped. Harry immediately saw the truth of his words, and led the movement back towards the forests. He led at an angle, however, trying to avoid the area from which the noises emanated.

But even as they began to move, a slew of creatures burst from the forests, heading straight for them. There were about nine of the things- great dark creatures with the heads of an iguana, talons of an eagle, and sinuous bodies of a leopard. Their lashing tails were also those of an iguana, and they served to balance the things- leuanas- that were now bearing down on the four.

Four of them were put down by the Stunning Spells that were spoken, but the other five still came on, hissing. They seemed to be guided by a pack mentality of sorts, and fanned out to surround the humans. The four dropped their packs, keeping their wands ready.

Shift forms, came Draco's curt mindvoice, even as he melted quickly into his serpent form. They're too quick for either magic or sword.

Hermione took golden eagle form and leapt into the sky, feeling the strength of the eagle in its talons and beak, strong enough to kill a grown wolf. Circling, she went into a sharp dive, aiming for the creature that ripped at Ron's wolf form.

Her talons tore the creature's eyes out, raking long bloody lines across its scaly visage, and she was aware of feeling rather sickened for a moment before she lit out again like a shot, gaining altitude quickly and nearly smashing Ron over the head with a wing. Ron ducked adroitly beneath her wings with the graceful agility of the wolf and seized the thing's throat. Hermione's keen eagle ears caught the sharp snap that followed. Her keen eagle's eyes saw Draco and Harry finishing off the leuanas that had been felled by the Stunning Spells.

She circled again, watching the scene below- Draco was slowly constricting one of the things that he had managed to slow with serpent venom. Even though constriction wasn't a normal attack for the cobra, it was working very well. Ron had fatally mauled a second with his teeth and was now worrying at its throat, trying to shake off its tenacious grip on life. Harry was in the process of tearing another's throat out while its long eagle talons lashed at him. It seemed that the primal nature and raw power of the animal had mingled with the powerful survival instinct of the human, lending a ferocity to her companions she had never seen before.

That left one creature still alive and in action.

* * * * *

Arthur Weasley sighed deeply as he finished going through the last of the papers for the day. Normally he would look forward to going home, but home seemed to have transformed into a nest of worry. Molly constantly worried about Ron- constantly being twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She even wore a worried look in her sleep.

He remembered Molly's reaction to the letter from Dumbledore ("He's only a child! How can they even think of sending him off all over to get into scrapes and danger of all sorts, against You-Know-Who of all people, and with that Malfoy boy too! I wouldn't be surprised if that boy's father puts him up to stabbing Ron in his sleep!"), and groaned lightly.

Things were no better at the Ministry, either. Dumbledore had asked Arthur and Mundugus to try and influence Ministry operations as much as they could- which wasn't very much. As they were both in departments that dealt with Muggles, they were relatively low on the Ministry food chain- analogous to algae, actually.

The other Ministry workers thought it peculiar that Arthur and Mundugus had suddenly and spontaneously achieved a sense of- well, camaraderie. The tension between the two had become a well-known fact, reaching its heights when, three or four years ago, Mundugus had attempted to put a hex on Arthur when the latter had had his back turned. But now, they were meeting together often- to discuss the managing of Muggles, they claimed. And most Ministry members believed it, except the ones who really knew what was going on. The ones that Arthur and Mundugus had contacted.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said.

Mundugus entered, closing the door behind him. In his hand was a letter.

"Letter from Dumbledore, Arthur," Mundugus said. Born and bred in Northern Ireland from a Irish mother and a British father, his voice clearly indicated the dominance of the Irish in his blood. "He wants us to be pushing for a few Hit Teams to go out and stop those Dark creatures, and isn't it about time someone did? I'd bet me entire fortune those creatures are heading straight to You-Know-Who."

"Your fortune?" Arthur repeated with a grin. "What fortune?"

"Never ye mind that!" Mundugus snapped, though he was smiling too. "Dumbledore wants us to make sure it's a secret that these teams are weeding out the Dark creatures, he doesn't want Fudge getting wind of it. Says that Fudge would be angry about him interfering at the Ministry, and isn't it a fact? Fudge would be outraged."

* * * * *

Remus sighed. He'd been waiting at the door for nearly fifteen minutes, and Sirius still wasn't ready.

"Sirius! We need to go!" he called for the fifth time.

"All right, all right, don't rush me!" Sirius appeared shortly, dragging the cage, which he was unsuccessfully trying to make smaller. "Damn thing..." At a particularly hard smack from Sirius's wand, it submitted and reduced size obediently. "Finally..." Sirius groaned as he stowed it away.

* * * * *

Draco saw the eagle fall slowly, trailing blood from its broken wing. He didn't think, but pitched the upper half of his body over after her, his length and superior weight allowing him to drop past her. At the last moment, he remembered he couldn't catch her with his jaws for fear of poisoning her, and cursed mentally. On the other hand, if he shifted now, his human mass would be relocated to his upper half. He could catch her, and hope that the water was deep enough to prevent them both from breaking their necks.

But maybe he wouldn't have to hope... if his plan worked.

Draco resumed his normal form, and just barely snagged the eagle as it dropped past him. As the eagle's eyes slid out of focus and she lost consciousness, he suddenly found himself holding Hermione. Apparently loss of consciousness was a trauma great enough to be able to force one to resume one's true form.

Draco directed his attention to the water below, implementing his plan, willing it to rise and break their fall. A cylinder of seawater burst upwards, enveloping them, and Draco allowed himself and Hermione to float atop this cylinder. With another mental curse, he realized that he couldn't make the water take them back up- he had already expended too much effort to make the water act thus in the first place. So he let the water pillar thunder back into the sea, taking him and Hermione with it.

* * * * *

Harry and Ron, who had had a creature each to occupy their minds, didn't notice what had happened until too late. When both of the leuanas were dead, they stood shakily, to find themselves alone.

They shifted back immediately, and stared at each other in dismay.

"Where'd they go?" Harry said almost frantically. Hermione! he called out in strained mindspeak.

Ron was following the scuff marks of the battle, and saw some that led straight to the edge of the cliff. The dead creature lay there, eagle blood mingling with its own. Ron couldn't tell that there was eagle blood there, but the talon and beak wounds, as well as the torn out eye, marked it as having been ravaged by an eagle- a serpent couldn't have caused those kinds of wounds, and both of the boys knew they hadn't touched this creature. It had a distinctive red crest adorning its head that the others lacked. Perhaps this had been a male in a group of females, or vice versa.

Hermione! Ron called in mindspeak, as Harry followed him to the cliff's edge.

"You don't think she..." he began, dreading the answer.

Ron shook his head. "Maybe Malfoy is with her..." He shuddered at the thought. "Well... it's worth a try... call him."

Harry hazarded a brief Malfoy?.

Yes, Potter? came the tired, dutiful, answer.

Where's Hermione? Where are you? Harry mindspoke furiously. If you've done anything...

I haven't done anything except save your girlfriend's life, Draco 'said', sounding annoyed. She fell off the cliff, and I came after her for some insane reason. We're in a cave in the side of the cliff. The water swept us in here. And- oh damn. Don't come down here, you'll just be a hindrance if you do. Not that you aren't already one 24/7.

What? Harry 'said', ignoring the insult to the best of his ability. Why?

I think I found the veela, Draco 'replied'.

* * * * *

The veela came two by two, led by a female that, if at all possible, seemed even more beautiful than the rest. They fanned out into a crescent shape in front of Draco that ensured that if he tried to flee, he would either run straight into the ocean or directly into the mass of veela. She surveyed Draco with badly-disguised disdain, and Draco was suddenly very conscious of the state of his clothes. They were soaked. He must look a mess.

"I can sense veela blood in you," she said casually. "What make you here, half-breed?"

Draco paused a moment before he realized that she was asking why he was there. She utilized a rather archaic form of communication that took a little getting used to. "I fell off the cliff," he replied, quite truthfully. He purposely avoided saying we just yet- the veela hadn't noticed Hermione yet, as he was standing over her- practically straddling her, almost- hey, I didn't exactly have time to think up something better to do, he snapped at the perverted section of his mind, which was laughing hysterically. And I am NOT sitting on her. I'm standing...

He'd stepped quickly over her when he'd first seen the shadowy figures of the veela, letting his cloak and robes trail over her. She'd been lying parallel to the cave walls, her feet towards the cave entrance, so it'd simply been a matter of concealing her upper half and blocking the rest of her behind him; but he wasn't sure how well that concealment would work- what if the veela forced him to move? Not wanting them to find out about her(and not wanting to continue standing over her- the irrational part of his mind was having a field day with that concept), he let a Concealment Charm slip from the tips of his fingers to cover her. He didn't move yet, however- he still needed to remain standing there for a moment or two, as he wanted to make sure the Charm worked. Not really wanting to think of what they might do to her if they found her, he instead thought about what a strange thing it was to be referred to as 'half-breed', when, in the wizarding world, his blood was one of the purest. A mutt at heart, Draco thought sarcastically. How nice.

He stood there, feeling very awkward, while the veela talked amongst themselves. He idly considered the possibility of Hermione waking up now, seeing and feeling a solid mass of black on her face, panicking, and shooting straight upwards to... ouch! Draco thought, cutting off that train of thought hurriedly. Figuring the Concealment Charm would have covered Hermione by now, he edged off to the side so that he wasn't standing above her.

After a moment a subordinate veela hazarded a comment at the leader, after flicking a glance at the wand hanging out of his sodden robes. Draco noticed the direction of the look, and hastily concealed the wand again.

"He looks like he would make a good breeder, Fiana," she said respectfully, though she didn't try to hide the lust in her blue eyes. "Attractive, a wizard, and certainly of suitable breeding age. He looks quite up to siring healthy young ones."

Draco was completely and utterly thrown at this statement. Even more so when all the veela began to agree.

"Hold!" the leader- Fiana- said. "How do you know he is a wizard?" she shot at the veela who had spoken.

"He carries a wand," the subordinate said promptly. "There is a stench of magic about him, even... more so than on most other wizards I have encountered," she said. "This one's a potent one," she added, the upward curl of the corner of her mouth making clear the ambiguity of her statement.

"Hey, now... wait a minute!" Draco insisted. The veela all looked at him, and he was uncomfortably aware that most of their predatory blue gazes were locked below his waist. "I just came down here to get a hair from one of you..."

"Why? For what?" Fiana said craftily. "Why can we not just keep you here as a breeder? You certainly seem quite qualified for that." Her eyes raked his entire length in a way that suggested she was undressing him with her eyes.

"Because... because..." Draco was at a loss for words.

Then suddenly a lightbulb flashed over his head- not literally- but it did give him a bright idea.

"Because I need that veela hair for a potion," he said, making his expression as pitiably puppy-dog sad as possible.

Veela were incapable of being swayed by such male wiles. "What kind of potion?" the leader demanded.

"A potion to... to..." Draco feigned a blush. "To remedy my infertility. Cure my impotence. Call it what you will. It was an unfortunate defect caused by my mother- she really did smoke too much, you know, disgusting Muggle habit, bad for the heart and all that."

His comment elicited faint cries of dismay from the entire crowd of veela. The leader silenced them, devious cunning lurking behind her eyes. "We give you a hair, and you brew your potion here."

Draco was taken aback for a moment. "But I don't have the rest of the ingredients... or a cauldron..." He thought furiously, nearly popping a vein, then suddenly had another idea.

"But I can use a Summoning Charm to get them..."

The leader's eyes narrowed. "Do that."

"Hair first," Draco said. "Right before the potion is made," he added hastily, "the ingredients have to be brought together in a certain order, and the veela hair comes first."

* * * * *

Ron and Harry were having a bad time of it.

While Harry worried constantly about Hermione's condition, Ron was pacing restlessly in circles. It didn't help Harry's worries that Ron paced dangerously close to the cliff's edge, either.

"Sit down, Ron, I'm getting dizzy just watching you," Harry said softly after Ron's fifteenth revolution. Ron complied immediately. It wasn't a graceful motion, either; Ron simply fell flat and didn't move.

They spent another minute similarly, before Harry suddenly heard a voice in his mind. A rather unwelcome voice.

Potter, I need you to do something.

Harry started. Malfoy?

Who else would it be? Draco's irritated mindvoice came. Get out my broomstick and lay on the ground. Also, you and Weasley have to get on your broomsticks, get in the air, and get ready to make a hasty retreat. Take all our things with you.

What? Harry's eyes narrowed. Why?

Potter, I am about to make a whole slew of horny veela very, very, angry, and it would be nice if you cleared off before they came out, Draco 'said' by way of explanation. Now, for once in your life, Potter, just take the instructions that are given to you!

Fine! Harry 'said' Since you asked so nicely, Malfoy...

Shut up and do it, Draco 'said' tersely, and after that he 'said' nothing else.

* * * * *

Draco moved back towards the cave entrance, and, to his slight dismay, the entire crowd of veela edged forward after him. Pocketing the hair, he cleared his throat nervously.

"I... I'll just Summon those ingredients now..." he said, mainly to placate the leader- Fiana- who was eyeing him suspiciously. Backing to Hermione's side, he raised his wand, mentally thanking the fates that it hadn't been swept away by the water or lost in his change to serpent form- but then again a mere Animagus form-change couldn't quite affect the things one carried upon oneself, for some reason...

"Accio Firebolt," he whispered, so that the veela couldn't quite hear what he was saying.

Fiana's eyes narrowed at this, the slim ebony eyebrows arcing down- she issued a sharp command, and the veela began to move forward swiftly. Draco realized belatedly that Fiana was no fool- she had instantly suspected foul play when Draco had lowered his voice to speak the spell- but his Firebolt had already arrived, making good time in the fractional pause the leader had made before giving the command. He picked Hermione up swiftly, noting with some surprise that she wasn't that heavy, and leapt onto the Firebolt, kicking off even as the first veela clawed at his robes.

The veela sprang after him with shrieks of rage, and, out of some mad desire to save his honor, he called back, "I wasn't really impotent, you know." This seemed to incense the veela further- their heads began to lengthen into cruel bird's heads, and great scaly wings sprang from their shoulders. They developed the hindquarters of an eagle, while retaining their human arms and torso- now, they resembled nothing so much as some strange breed of harpy.

This is just too much for one day! Draco moaned mentally.

He lit out immediately. Ahead, he could see Harry and Ron, circling like birds of prey.

What are you waiting for, you sodding idiots?! he mindyelled. Get going!

They were all too happy to comply when they saw the veela come winging out of their hiding place. Draco caught up with the two boys easily. Harry and Draco each seized one of Ron's arms, as close to the shoulder as possible, and, using the strength of their brooms and their arms, managed to drag him forward along with them to compensate for the inferior speed of Ron's broom. The veela were incredibly fast in flight, but even they couldn't catch up with a pair of Firebolts, not even when the Firebolts were dragging a Cleansweep along with them. The veela eventually dropped back, shrieking long bird cries of rage, and turned away, winging back home.

The three boys slowed- miraculously, Draco hadn't dropped Hermione- and looked back at the receding forms of the veela. Harry reached over, removing Hermione from Draco's grasp- a little roughly, Draco thought- and pulling her onto his own broomstick.

"Typical," Draco said after a rather breathless moment. "Veela have the shortest attention spans of any creature I've ever seen. Fleur Delacour was an excellent example of that."

"Let me guess, your good looks and sharp wit attracted her, and she approached you," Harry said sarcastically turning to look at Draco. Ron looked alarmed- maybe Fleur had told Draco about Ron's failed attempt to ask her to the Ball? but Ron's fears were soon allayed, as Draco seemed to show no sign of knowing about it.

"Yes, exactly," Draco drawled with a smirk, sounding and looking very much like the old Draco. "She tried to seduce me, actually, to get me to go with her to the Ball. When she realized I was part-veela myself and that she wouldn't get anything off me- Christ, she was shallow back then!- she kind of gave up, rather quickly too. She wanted to ask me to the Yule Ball- I wouldn't have refused her either, but Pansy was absolutely adamant that I simply had to go with her and that if I didn't she'd hang me from the ceiling of the Slytherin common room the entire night, upside down without a shred of clothing on me. She looked like she'd do it too, and I didn't want to take the risk, so I told Fleur no. She turned right around and asked Roger Davies instead. Good thing too, I don't think that I could have tolerated her for the entire night."

After this rather long analysis of Draco's social life in the fourth year- Dear God, the boy likes to talk about himself! Harry thought with dry amusement- Draco paused to catch his breath, then started speaking again.

But I'm surprised those veela didn't run us into the ground- after all, I would have been an awfully cute catch."

"They were probably anxious to lose you," Ron remarked cuttingly. "Besides, for every one guy they lose, they can get twelve more- all of them much better than you."

"You're nice, Weasley, anyone ever tell you that?" Draco said sarcastically. "But those veela will probably join Voldemort, you know," he added. "After all, he would be able to provide them with all the sexy men they could want."

"And you will definitely not be among the ranks of sexy men, Malfoy," Ron said flatly.

Draco was about to retort, but noticed that Ron was dangerously close to him. Not only that, he was moving into the correct angle of attack required to throw a punch in midair, of which Draco was definitely going to be on the receiving end if he said anything. So Draco refrained from speaking, instead swallowing his harsh words painfully. They burned all the way down his throat, and Draco glowered- he was not used to having to keep from speaking his mind.

"Excuse me if I'm interrupting your moment, but we need to land," Harry said sardonically, breaking the tension between Ron and Draco. Ron looked scandalized that Harry had stopped the potential bloodshed, but said nothing. Draco cloaked his own reaction, instead turning his broomstick and slowly coasting downwards.

When they landed, Harry immediately laid Hermione on the ground, said "Ennervate," Hermione stirred, coughing slightly on the salt in her throat, and looked around. "What happened?"

"To make a long story short, you fell off the cliff, I went after you, saved us both from drowning or breaking our necks, got the veela hair from the veela in the cave in the cliffside, and brought you out of the cave. We then fled the veela, they gave up the chase, and well... we landed and woke you up," Draco said.

Ron couldn't resist adding, "And Malfoy here also told us an amusing story about how Fleur asked him to the Ball in fourth year but he said no because he was afraid of what Pansy would do to him."

Hermione stifled a giggle; Draco looked righteously angry. "If you had been in my place, what would you have done? Pansy looked dead serious about that."

Ron shrugged cryptically, grinning.

"We need the moonstone next," Harry said quickly, forestalling further confrontation between Draco and Ron. "Um... does anyone know what that is?"

"Honestly, haven't any of you read Magical Substances and Their Properties?" Hermione asked peevishly.

"I have."

This simple answer completely threw Hermione- she's never heard anyone answer like that. She looked up, and found it was Draco who had answered. He looked utterly serious.

"Y-you have? Then what is a moonstone, pray tell?" Hermione asked.

"A stone with powerful, raw magic bound within. This magic builds up within the stone because it is bathed in moonlight every night for a full lunar cycle except for cloudy nights or other such occurrences, hence its name. The stone must have been bathed in moonlight only for the entire lunar cycle- from new moon to new moon- sunlight cannot touch it during this lunar cycle or it will lose its growing connection to the moon and its stock of potent magic. Theoretically, even the touch of the moon for a single night might prove enough, if cloudy days predominate during the lunar cycle- the main thing is that no sunlight is allowed to touch it," Draco said, sounding as if he were quoting the book directly. In fact, he sounded uncommonly like Hermione.

"Did you memorize that entire book?" Harry said exasperatedly. Just what he needed- another dictionary.

"Almost," Draco said matter-of-factly. "Father demands that my knowledge of magic and magical objects be extensive."

"That sounds impossible, though," Ron said darkly. "A stone can't be bathed in moonlight every night and yet never be touched by sunlight."

"Evidently Dumbledore thinks it's possible," Hermione said, bringing out the map again. "He's got another dot marked back up north... near the border between Scotland and England."

Ron groaned. "This is terrible. Up and down the country. Everything's just got to be in different places..."

Draco stood, letting his gaze wander lazily over to settle on Ron. "Exercise would do you good, Weasley. I can't imagine you get too much exercise at home, seeing how small your property would be... if you had any land..."

Ron's ears went red. "Shut up, Malfoy," he snarled, for lack of a better thing to say.

"You're inventive," Draco sneered. "You've been saying that for the past six years, do try to come up with something else to say..."

"How about this?" Harry interrupted irritably. "Shut the hell up, Malfoy."

"Ah. Yes. That would be new. For one thing, Potter, you were too much of a pansy before to curse much."

Harry gave Draco a very irritable glance before turning away. "So are we flying to this place then?"

Nobody objected, so they got back on the brooms and set off.

Hermione's arms were rather sore from her flight as an eagle, so she had to resign herself to flying on the broom. She didn't mind so much, though- she had something she wanted to say. But it took her a while to gather the courage to finally do it. She watched the clouds below flick past. The four of us really are moving very fast...

Oh, just get on with it! she reprimanded herself after an uncomfortable fifteen minutes of silence.

She edged close to Draco, as shyly as it was possible to move on a broomstick. "Um... Draco?" The roaring of the wind past them was preventing Harry and Ron, flying ahead, from hearing anything.

He jumped awkwardly- Draco, who was almost never clumsy- and looked at her as if he'd never seen anyone like her before. "Wh-what?"

"Um... thankyouforsavingmebackthere," she blurted.

Draco looked puzzled. "Come again?"

Hermione turned the exact shade of a ripe tomato. "Um... thank you. For. You know."

Draco looked taken aback. His broom wobbled a moment before he drew it steady again. "I don't exactly know what made me do that," he muttered, turning away slightly, almost dismissively.

Hermione had a sudden, inexplicable urge to be mean. Maybe it was a reaction to his almost dismissive behavior. "I don't know, your wondrous sense of chivalry and honor, which you've displayed so often in the past?" she remarked cuttingly. "Or maybe you just wanted something you could use against Harry."

Draco looked rather perturbed. "One moment you're shy and trying to thank me, the next you're killing me with evil little comments."

Hermione realized suddenly the truth of his statement. "Um..."

"Um is right," he snapped, and suddenly, without warning, he seized the front of her broomstick with one hand, the back of her waist with the other, and, drawing her roughly against him, kissed her. It was as if he was putting all his passions- all his unspoken words and yearnings and desires and fears- into that kiss, and she was almost overwhelmed, until her spirit accepted his feelings, burning them and renewing them as part of her, just as phoenixes burned themselves to rise again from the ashes, changed and yet not changed, and the passion blended and sifted to create an equilibrium of sorts between them that steadied their spirits, if not their minds.

There was a howling in the back of Hermione's mind that screamed that this was right and good and as things should be.

There was a screaming in the front of her mind that howled, What the hell?!

Similar things must have been transpiring in Draco's mind, for after only a second of that kiss he suddenly lurched backwards with a mortified expression.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Can you explain to me why I did that?" he said weakly. "You're the smart one."

"Oh yeah?" Hermione panted, leaning over to catch her breath, and also to avoid meeting his eyes. "You're not exactly stupid either, Mr. Second-In-Our-Class, and besides, you're the one who started it anyway, so you explain."

"I can't explain it," he said miserably. "It was like an ingrained instinct, though," he added after a contrite moment.

"Really, you think so? Like one of the ingrained instincts the horny teenaged cavemen had when those hormones got flowing? 'Hey, I think I'll go out, grab some random attractive cavegirl, drag her by her hair back to my cave and make passionate love to her!'" Hermione snarled.

"I did not make passionate love to you," Draco said indignantly. "All that happened was a little tonguing."

"You call that a little?"

Another disgruntled pause.

"But by any chance did that feel right to you? It felt right to me. Come to think of it, strange things always happen whenever you start getting a little too close," Draco said sharply.

Hermione was silent. Come to think of it, there had been a certain rightness to the kiss...

"You felt it too," Draco said, reading her expression with devastating accuracy. It sounded like an accusation.

"Then what do you want to do about it?" Hermione sighed wearily.

"Nothing. There's nothing we can do. Besides, it's just a little feeling of rightness. For all we know, it could be those hormones talking."

"Heaven hath no fury like the hormones of a teen," Hermione said in a brief attempt at levity.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Excuse me... but am I interrupting your moment?"

Harry's displeased expression was the first thing Hermione's eyes encountered when she looked up. Oops. We forgot to keep flying, she thought.

"I don't know what's gotten into you two lately that you'd spend so much cozy time together, but you are holding us all up," Harry continued, looking specifically at Draco.

"Since when did you like to hurry to get things done?" Draco said acidly.

"Since now," Harry said shortly in a very direct manner.

Draco cast a sidewise glance at Ron. Ron's demeanor was that of a bristling, angry canine- his back was even arching slightly. He returned his gaze to meet Harry's eyes, which were bright, liquid emerald, and limpid with annoyance.

"Then let's get going," Draco asserted with half a smirk before turning about and coasting ahead.

Ron began to tail him, watching him suspiciously. Harry hung back a moment to wait for Hermione.

"Hermione, I don't know what's... been going on with you lately, but you can tell me," he began, feeling a slight flush creep into the back of his neck at her closeness.

Hermione turned away. "I can't."

Harry was taken aback a moment. His broomstick lagged behind hers for a second, before he drew it level again.

"Why not?" His face seemed so forlorn that Hermione felt a jab of conscience in her chest. Harry's expressions had always been devastatingly easy to read.

"Because I don't know."

Harry looked at her bemusedly. "How can you not know?"

She dipped her face so that her hair hid her face, which was flushing with embarrassment and frustration. Her hands gripped the broom so tightly that her knuckles went white.

This was a mistake.

Her broom shot forward, and Hermione, startled, released the pressure on the handle. Suddenly realizing that that had been a very bad time for her broom to shoot off, she looked around, to see Harry gliding dispiritedly off back towards Ron. Evidently he'd gotten the wrong message.

* * * * *

"Whoops," Sirius commented, his face turned towards the sky.

"What is it?" Remus turned to look at his companion quizzically.

"One of them's just dipped beneath the clouds... I think it's Hermione. Oh, look, she's up again..." Sirius looked at Remus suddenly. "You're sure it's them?"

"Look, there are four little dots all flying around above our heads on this map, and you're still doubtful?" Remus stuck the map in front of Sirius's face.

"I see, I see..." Sirius waved a hand dismissively, and Remus put the map away. "But what I'm concerned about right now is that griffin up ahead."

"What?!" Remus looked around hastily, and saw a glint of tawny gold up ahead in the trees. "What is a griffin doing here? They're not Dark creatures..."

"I dunno. Hunting, d'you think?" Sirius said blithely.

Remus shot Sirius a look of annoyance. "This really isn't the time for levity."

Sirius gave Remus an innocent look. "I wasn't being funny."

Remus groaned inwardly as he looked back towards the griffin. "Is it guarding something, maybe?"

Sirius looked interestedly back at the creature. "It doesn't seem like it."

Remus seized his arm as Sirius stepped forward. "Wait... the four are landing."

Sirius attempted to shake Remus off, but his grip was too strong. Damn your supernatural wolfish traits or whatever the heck this is.

"What are you talking about?! They're not landing right next to the griffin, are they?"

"Well... yes, they are."

Sirius became frantic, struggling against his friend. It was a losing battle. "That's my godson out there! I'm not letting him- Remus, let go!"

* * * * *

"Did you see that?"

Harry turned to look at Draco quizzically. "See what?"

Draco was scanning the brush from their vantage point in the clouds, evidently waiting for it to move again. "Something moved down there."

"Did you see what it was?" Harry looked too, even as he coasted downwards to land. It was a quick motion, designed to carry him from cloud bottom to treetop and quickly as possible. Draco came next, followed by Ron and Hermione. They nestled tentatively in the treetops, unsure whether they should still land.

"No, I didn't," Draco finished peevishly. "That's why I said I saw something move down there. Not, 'A veela moved down there.' Not 'A rabbit moved down there.' Not 'Gilderoy Lockhart moved down there...'"

Ron shuddered. "Speak not the name, Malfoy."

Draco shuddered in kind. "Finally, something we agree on, Weasley."

"You think we should still land?"

Draco looked at Harry in surprise. He hadn't thought Harry would actually ask his opinion. But Harry had come to realize that Draco could actually be useful.

"I think so," Draco said. "There's no more movement. But I could go down first, in animal form. A king cobra would be a bit harder too notice than a great big lion- especially if the lion is falling out of a tree. And the moonstone is around here somewhere, right, Hermione?"

Ron was beginning to find that self-confident, overbearing personality a tad annoying. "Yeah, like a king cobra isn't out of place in a British forest..." he muttered. Draco and Hermione studiously ignored him.

"Yeah," Hermione said. She was scrutinizing the map. "We're right on top of the dot."

"Alright, I'll go down then," Draco said cheerfully. Handing his broom and pack to Ron (who looked scandalized at the fact that he had to hold Draco's things for him), Draco transformed and slithered down the tree. No one noticed the flash of pearl that was revealed beneath Draco's shirt sleeve when he had reached over.

It was only after Draco had gone that Hermione realized that he had called her by her first name. She couldn't help feeling a little pleased that she'd made progress with him, but she wondered what had happened to cause him to use her first name.

She didn't realize that, in a strange, roundabout sort of way, she'd earned Draco's grudging respect.

* * * * *

that's the end of chapter six. does draco get eaten by the griffin? how did hermione earn draco's respect anyway? where is the moonstone, and how was it possible for it to become a moonstone, given those difficult conditions? will draco spontaneously become a dragon and fly off into the sunset? will remus have to toss a hysterical sirius against a tree to shut him up?

all those questions will be answered in chapter seven. review please.

-celeste