Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 6

Breaking The Library's Rules

If anyone had bothered studying Hermione Granger closely Sunday afternoon they would have seen something surprising, something that might have made them blink and look again. There was nothing unusual about the fact that she was in a comfy armchair with a book propped open on her lap. In fact, for Hermione, this was probably as ordinary as eating or breathing. What was unusual was that if you peered very closely, you would notice that she wasn't actually reading. She hadn't turned a page in over five minutes. There was no one else in the common room, though, except for a small brunette boy who was obviously trying to ignore her.

Hermione watched Malfoy as he sat hunched over at a table near the far wall of the common room. His back was to her, but she could see the tip of his quill moving furiously across parchment. Was he doing the essays she'd assigned him? Hermione had been wondering for a few minutes what he was writing- but she was too hesitant to go over and ask him, even though the common room was relatively deserted.

She felt uncomfortable just being in the same room as Malfoy was. No one else knew his secret, of course; to the other Gryffindors he was simply a stuck-up first year.

Hermione knew better, though.

Malfoy was purposely ignoring her. She knew that he was well aware of the fact that they were the only ones in the room. If Hermione hadn't vowed not to speak to him she would have made conversation just to annoy him.

It would have been the perfect time to go over and talk to Malfoy. She could ask him how he was doing with the sixth year schoolwork she'd given him. If they had been even remotely more than 'hateful acquaintances,' they might even had joked and talked for a few minutes. But this was Malfoy, a Slytherin, and Hermione knew that there was no way in the world she would go over to his table.

She couldn't leave the common room either, though. Malfoy would know instantly she was deserting it because of him, and Hermione didn't want to give him that pleasure. It was bad enough she had to share a House with him. It was her House, even, not his. He was invading it, and she would not give him the satisfaction of leaving it so she wouldn't have to be near him.

Hermione would just have to pretend he didn't exist.

And so that was why she was still sitting in the armchair, pretending to read a book she had lost interest in long ago, when Harry and Ron came down the stairs from the boys' dormitories.

"We're going to go visit Hagrid. Do you want to come?" inquired Harry.

"Sure," said Hermione eagerly, snapping her book shut. She stood up quickly, not daring to look in Malfoy's direction.

Inwardly Hermione felt as if she were moving too fast and appeared too enthusiastic, but the boys didn't seem to notice anything. Hermione took a deep breath as she followed them out the Fat Lady, willing herself to calm down. Just as the portrait was about to swing closed she chanced a look back at Malfoy. For a moment Hermione was almost sure she'd seen him watching her- but the next second she was positive it had been a trick of the light.

Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, grinning as Fang, Hagrid's big but tame boarhound, started barking and leaping at the door. He heard a loud grunt from the other side of the door and an 'easy, Fang, easy,' and then Hagrid was beaming down at them.

"I was wonderin' why I hadn't seen you three. Thought I might have to go up the castle and get you meself!" He ushered them in, offering them stoat sandwiches and tea.

"Er, no thanks, Hagrid," said Harry quickly, as Ron looked too green to say anything, and Hermione seemed to be off in a world of her own. "Just some tea, maybe, thanks." Hagrid nodded, still smiling, and began pouring their mugs.

"How did the tryouts go yesterday?" Hagrid asked, settling down at the table.

"Wha- how?"

Hagrid chuckled. "Could see you through me window. Yer little sister's fast, Ron," he added. Ron turned bright red, muttering something about 'surprise attacks.'

"Whom did you pick?" Hagrid asked, looking at them expectantly. Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"Well, we, er, didn't exactly choose anyone," Harry admitted, wondering what Hagrid's reaction would be.

"We decided to play with only two Chasers," Ron added unnecessarily. Even Hermione looked surprised at this answer.

"Play with only two Chasers?" blurted Hagrid, his eyes wide. "Not- not that you can't do it . . ." His voice faltered, betraying his real thoughts.

"Everyone on the team thinks it's a good idea," said Harry stubbornly.

"Harry," said Hagrid kindly, "it's gonna' be awfully hard to win with only two Chasers." He stared at him so earnestly that for a moment Harry was going to agree. A sharp kick from Ron under the table, though, strengthened his resolve, and he shook his head firmly (albeit grimacing in minor pain).

"There wasn't anyone particularly good at tryouts. Katie and Ginny are good Chasers, they can manage." There was a brief silence while Hagrid gazed at them, as if trying to discern a hidden joke somewhere.

Finally he shook his bearded head, traces of doubt still of his face. "I dunno . . ."

"If Harry thinks they can do it, they probably can," interrupted Hermione, taking a sip of tea. Harry was about to thank her when he saw the vague expression in her eyes, and the words flew out of his mouth.

"We're practicing tonight," continued Ron, ignoring Hagrid's comments. "If Katie and Ginny aren't good, I suppose Harry will have to choose another Chaser."

Harry nodded, still studying Hermione. She was staring out the window at the castle, absent-mindedly patting Fang on the head.

"Hermione," exclaimed Harry, hoping to snap her out of whatever reverie she was in. "Is something the matter?"

Hermione jumped, sloshing tea all over her hands. She blushed, accepting a napkin from Hagrid and dabbing at her cloak. "No, nothing's wrong, I'm just- preoccupied."

Ron snorted. "Don't tell me you're worrying about spew again?"

"Now don't start anything, you two," warned Hagrid as Hermione glared at Ron and opened her mouth to retort.

Hermione sighed, casting a reproachful look in Ron's direction. "I'm just a little stressed out- from homework," she added hastily. "I don't really understand what Professor Vector's trying to teach us in Arithmancy.

Harry didn't believe her for a second, nor, did it seem, Ron either.

"You're having trouble with homework?" he demanded. "We're not that gullible."

"It's true," protested Hermione, but there was something in her voice that made Harry seriously doubt it. For one thing, she wouldn't meet their eyes. There was an awkward tension while Hermione avoided their gaze, finally turning to stare out the window again.

"So, well," said Hagrid at last, looking uncomfortable at the silence. "What's going on in school?"

"I can do a Patronus now!" said Ron eagerly, whipping out his wand. "Do you want to see?"

"No, that's ok, I believe you," Hagrid chuckled. "It might scare Fang." Ron looked slightly disappointed, but didn't argue.

"I was having trouble with it before," he explained. "It worked, though, when I thought of Malfoy being turned into a-" He yelped, shooting out of his chair as Harry's foot connected with his shin. "What the bloody hell was that for-" Ron demanded angrily, stopping suddenly as Harry jerked his head at Hermione.

She was staring at Ron in interest, a cool expression on her face. Ron turned red, sitting back down with an almost inaudible 'oh.'

"Right, so, uh, anyway, I was just thinking of when a-" he coughed, "-stupid git got embarrassed. That's all." Hermione gave him a small smile, and Harry was relieved to see that she was no longer staring into space.

Hagrid wasn't fooled for a second. "D'you ever wonder how it happened?" he mused. "You would think Lucius Malfoy wouldn't let his only son and heir get killed off like that. It must've been something big that did Malfoy in."

"Well, his father was in Azkaban," said Ron, his tone quite happy. "Can't imagine he could be much use from there."

Hermione suddenly seemed tense again. "Maybe Malfoy was playing with something inside his manor," she said quickly. "His father must've kept loads of dangerous things around."

"Yeah, you know, I bet Malfoy drank poison by accident or something," Ron said thoughtfully, sounding almost hopeful. "Wouldn't put it past the stupid prat. Even a Malfoy isn't immune to poison,"

Ron cleared his throat, looking at Hermione anxiously. Harry was surprised to see that she didn't seem to care about the insult.

"It's quite possible. I'm sure that's what happened," Hermione said as if the matter were closed. "Hagrid, where did you get the pixies from in class? I was wondering if pixies are ever bought as pets . . ."

Seekers were supposed to be small and light, but by the time Harry had staggered from Madame Hooch's office to the Quidditch pitch carrying the Quidditch balls, he was thinking that a daily training session for his arm muscles were in order. Even with Ron on the other side, handling half the weight, he was still panting for breath. Harry couldn't resist giving a small gasp of relief as he put the chest on the ground and began fumbling at the catch.

"Now I see why Seekers are hardly every Captains, although I was under the impression Keepers could carry things. At least Wood could."

Harry and Ron glared at Angelina reproachfully as the co-captain walked over, a small grin on her face.

"I'm joking, you guys," she said sympathetically, seeing their expressions. "I'm sure you're, er, very strong." Angelina tried not to smile, but her amusement was apparent.

"Sure you are," Harry grumbled, massaging his arm muscles as the other members of the team filed onto the pitch in their scarlet robes.

"Harry, you don't mind if we borrow Angelina, do you?" asked Ginny, picking up the Quaffle and cradling it. "We need some help adapting the old routines to fit two people."

Harry looked at Angelina for confirmation, and she nodded. "Sure. I don't mind. I'll be working with Jack and Andrew, I guess."

"What about me?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Katie, grinning teasingly. "I suppose you can come play Keeper for us . . . if you promise not to fall asleep again." She and Ginny giggled as Ron turned bright red, the tips of his ears as scarlet as his robes.

"Don't worry, Ron," said Harry, trying to sound serious. "I'll wake you again if you do fall asleep. Maybe this time I'll try your father." Ron made a face and mounted his broom, soaring in the direction of the goalposts. The girls followed him after another round of giggling, and Harry was left with Andrew and Jack, both of whom looked decidedly nervous.

" Why don't you start aiming the Bludger at the target," suggested Harry, hoisting a large white board. Red circles were drawn in ripples all over it, and at first Harry had thought they were used for archery. The boards were actually meant for Bludgers, though, and had an Unbreakable Charm on them.

Harry kneeled on the ground next to the chest and undid the first Bludger. It zoomed out, vibrating in the air before turning right back the way it had come. Harry yelped, crashing into the chest as he stepped back in shot. Quickly Jack stepped forward and whammed the Bludger with his bat. It flew in the opposite direction of the boards, which were lying face up on the ground where Harry had dropped them in surprise.

"I'll go get it," announced Jack eagerly, jumping on his broom.

"Right," Harry muttered, disconcerted that his Beaters had seen him act so jumpy. Andrew waited while he stood up and released the second Bludger, wincing as it whistled through the air.

"Don't worry," Andrew assured him, as if afraid Harry would get spooked again. "We'll keep them near the other end of the pitch." He took off after his Bludger, and Harry grudgingly set up the target boards.

When they were firmly settled in the ground he watched Andrew and Jack aim at them for a few minutes. The two boys were definitely improving; it didn't take them quite as long to get the Bludger back where they wanted it after they had hit it.

Practice went by quickly, and in no time Angelina had called Harry over to see the Chasers' progress.

"Ron hasn't fallen asleep yet," Ginny said, beaming. Ron rolled his eyes, looking decidedly grumpy. Harry was pretty sure the joke had continued throughout the practice.

"How's it going?" he asked quickly, changing the subject to keep Ron from retorting. He was glad to see that Angelina was looking more than a little impressed.

"Actually, it wasn't that hard changing the routines a little. Katie and Ginny have their work cut out for them, but I think they can do it. I'm just worried about them going up against other teams."

"Have you tried playing against them?" Harry asked.

"No," Angelina admitted. "We need someone else to play Chaser. I thought maybe you could do it. We wouldn't be getting proper results if we played two on one. Not that I couldn't do it," she added hastily, lest anyone doubted her abilities.

Harry hid a smile and nodded. "I can try." His voice sounded unsure even to him. Ginny smiled reassuringly at him and tossed him the Quaffle.

"Just fly and pass it. Angelina can try scoring." She did a couple of loops in the air, grabbing the Quaffle from Harry and tossing it easily to Katie.

"You have learned fast," said Harry admiringly. Ginny blushed, and handed him the Quaffle back.

"Ready, Harry?" asked Angelina impatiently. "Let's see if you can manage to get one past Ron."

"Er, right," said Harry automatically, unable to hide a grin as Ron gave a loud groan. He rocketed into the air, clutching the Quaffle tightly to him. In an instant Katie and Ginny were on either side of him.

"Give up now, Harry," teased Katie, crooking a finger at him.

"We should go easy on him, though," said Ginny, winking at Harry. "Since he's new and all." Harry found himself gulping as he stared at their identical smirks.

"Harry!" Angelina yelled from below. "Drop the Quaffle!" Harry let it slide from his arms. Katie rushed down to swoop up the red ball in midair, and Harry instinctively felt himself jerk forward.

He blocked her easily, and Angelina caught the Quaffle. With a mildly surprised look at Harry, Ginny sped off after the co-captain. Katie looked impressed, but didn't say anything. Instead, she gritted her teeth and flew upward and over. Harry raced after her, watching Angelina try to get past Ron out of the corner of his eye.

Ron threw the Quaffle at Ginny after successfully guarding the left hoop. Ginny paused for a second and then put it through the center hoop, Ron's finger missing it by an inch. Harry clapped, glad to see that Angelina looked pleased even though they were technically "losing."

"That was great, Ginny," she said enthusiastically. "The Weasley's are full of fliers, aren't they?" She shared a grin with Harry as both Ginny and Ron turned bright red.

"Not that they can't be duped sometimes," added Angelina mischievously. She ducked past Ron and scored, catching the Quaffle on the other side. Harry heard Ginny give an almost inaudible sigh at Angelina's tactics, but she was smiling. They played for a few more minutes, and it gave Harry immense satisfaction when he finally got around Ron and scored.

"Not bad for a beginner," commented Angelina, clapping him on the back.

Harry felt a strange tingle race through his spine. "Thanks."

"I've got to go do some homework, but I'll see you tomorrow to talk about practice, ok?" asked Angelina, landing smoothly on the ground. Harry nodded, packing away the Quidditch balls. Ron waited until he was done, and then they carried the chest back to Madame Hooch's office.

"Think they can do it?" grunted Ron, gasping as they put the chest on the ground, and Harry fumbled for the key to the closet.

"Of course," Harry replied swiftly, remembering how Katie and Ginny had simultaneously attacked him near the end of their game so he dropped the Quaffle.

Maybe not everyone would've dropped the ball, Harry reflected as they walked back to the castle. But it was still comforting to know that Gryffindor's Chasers were some of the best out there. And they had only two.

When it came time for Harry and Hermione to depart for Potions the next morning Harry seriously considered dropping out. It seemed strange not to have Ron walking along with them, and he wondered what the point was in even going to Potions. Snape would only ridicule him and take points away from Gryffindor. The urge to simply not go was overwhelming- but once again Hermione reminded him that if he dropped out, she would be the only Gryffindor left.

"You owe me for this," grumbled Harry as they entered the dungeons.

Hermione smiled briefly. "I'm sure." Harry didn't bother responding, as he knew just as well as she did that Hermione didn't owe him anything. It just felt good to blame any forthcoming misery in Potions on her.

"Today we will be making Vanishing Potions. These are highly complicated. If you make a simple mistake the consequences can be serious." Snape grinned nastily before telling them that one of his former students had succeeded in vanishing only his head so he resembled a headless corpse for three days.

Harry felt Hermione shiver beside him. He found that his insides were squeamish, too. His invisibility cloak sounded a lot more inviting- and safer.

"Begin!" snapped Snape. He flicked his wand, and the instructions appeared on the board behind him.

Harry could barely focus on the potion he was supposed to be making. He missed Ron's constant sarcastic banter about Snape and the uselessness of Potions ("Are you mad?" Hermione would gasp). Snape seemed a lot more formidable now that Harry had only his potion to concentrate on. Usually when Hermione chatted with him in Potions it was to ask about an ingredient or direction.

"Potter, if I were you, and I am extremely relieved that I'm not, I would try paying a bit more attention to my potion."

Harry jumped as Snape's cold voice hissed in his ear, knocking over a beaker of a powdered limestone and water concoction.

"How clumsy," said Snape silkily. "Clean it up, Potter, and five points from Gryffindor for being so careless." Harry seethed as he began wiping the mess up with a rag. He could hear the loud sniggers of the Slytherins on the other side of the room.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," comforted Hermione, a sympathetic glance on her face. She waved her wand, and the rest of the messy goo on the table disappeared.

"If he hadn't made me jump I wouldn't have spilled it," said Harry heatedly, still fuming. He refused to look up and see Snape, sneering at him from behind his desk. Instead, Harry numbly filled another beaker with water and began adding limestone.

"Only two ounces, Harry," he heard Hermione say softly. He refrained from snarling at her, knowing that she was only trying to keep him from getting into more trouble.

"I know he's horrible, Harry," Hermione continued, stealing glances in his direction when Snape wasn't looking. "He's disgusting, and vile, and he should be ashamed of himself for treating you this way."

Harry couldn't help but feel a little better at her words. The thought of Snape ever feeling bad at how he treated Harry was ridiculous. Hermione, who was anything but naïve, was just saying that to make him feel better.

"You have ten minutes to finish your potion, and then I will be collecting them."

Harry clenched his fist, and Hermione gave a small gasp.

"Why didn't he tell us before we would be stopping early?" she asked frantically, nearly knocking over the jar of fast diminishing limestone in her haste.

"Because he's Snape," said Harry irritably, wishing Ron were there to add an insult. "He doesn't need another reason."

"How far have you gotten, Harry?" asked Hermione fervently, ignoring his comment. "I'm only just added the beetle eyes."

"Oh, I'm a, er, few steps behind you," replied Harry, avoiding her eyes and staring instead at his potion. He didn't think Hermione would appreciate being told he was only on the third line of directions.

Everyone in the room worked silently and diligently for the next few minutes, trying to make up for the lost time. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape was deliberately waiting until most of the Slytherins had finished their potions before announcing for them to fill their beakers.

Harry wondered dimly how many points off he would get for skipping the last two directions. With Snape, it would probably be an automatic zero, he thought glumly, placing his beaker on Snape's desk. He ignored the look of hate and loathing on Snape's face and walked back to the table he was sharing with Hermione. Harry couldn't help but feel a little proud upon looking into Hermione's cauldron and seeing that she had finished her potion successfully.

"What do you think we're going to do now?" Hermione asked breathlessly, her face flushed from working quickly.

Harry shrugged. "What's the betting he'll ask one of us to taste our potion?" He felt rather than saw Hermione gulp. He didn't know why she was so nervous; her potion would be perfect to begin with, and everyone knew that if Snape were going to pick on anyone it would be Harry.

Snape's announcement, though, seemed to surprise everyone in the classroom, including Harry and Hermione.

"I have spoken with the Headmaster," Snape said in soft, oily tones, turning to address the Slytherins. "And he has agreed to allow this class to make Love Potions."

There was absolute silence for a moment, and then the room exploded with exclamations from all Houses.

"We're making Love Potions?" squealed Pansy Parkinson excitedly, looking as if her birthday had come early.

"Doesn't take much to forget dear old Draco, does it?" whispered Harry quietly, and Hermione's head shook with silent chuckles.

"Ar- aren't they banned?" asked a Ravenclaw in the back, his voice and face full of disbelief.

"Will we be testing them, Professor?" asked Millicent Bulstrode in a high-pitched giggle that was unsuited to her masculine-like body and demeanor.

Snape's face took on an odd look. He seemed to be smiling indulgently at the Slytherins and smirking at everyone else. "Perhaps. Professor Dumbledore is still considering this aspect of my request . . ." The derision in his tone made it clear that Snap had no intention of not letting his students try whatever Love Potions they made.

Harry's insides squirmed uncomfortably as he realized the impact of Snape's words. They would be making Love Potions that had been banned for years, and would then be trying them if Snape got his way. They'd probably be testing them even if Dumbledore said no, he thought, his stomach dropping farther by the second.

Harry stared at Hermione, and she stared back at him, her face unnaturally pale. He could almost feel sweat condensing on his forehead. If he made a Love Potion, would he have to try it out on Hermione? Harry pictured himself falling head over heels for his best friend for a good hour. What if something went wrong with his Potion, and he followed Hermione around like a lovesick puppy for days?

Snap out of it, Harry ordered himself sternly, shaking his head. There was no guarantee that he would be forced to 'fall in love' with Hermione. It could just as easily be another girl. Although now that he thought of it, Harry realized, his eyes widening as he took in the number of females in the room, there were only four girls from Houses other than Slytherin. Maybe Hermione would be the best option after all. It would certainly beat chasing after someone like Millicent Bulstrode (who resembled nothing so much as a female Crabbe or Goyle) for who knew how long.

The same thoughts seemed to be going through Hermione's head as well as everyone else's in the class. All the girls and boys were looking at each other, some apprehensively while others blushed and giggled outright. Snape, Harry was amazed to see, seemed to be enjoying it.

"Ron is going to kill us," Hermione breathed softly as Snape began explaining what sort of Love Potions they would be making in the next few weeks. And Harry, picturing the outraged look on their friend's face when they told him what they would be doing, couldn't help but agree.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts Harry never got a chance to tell Ron about the Love Potions they would be making- much to his relief. Professor Evans had them immediately begin practicing the Patronus Charm.

"Do you want to go, Harry?" inquired Ron. "After all, I can do it now." Harry declined. He was feeling somewhat reluctant to do the Patronus Charm again in class, considering that his stag was quite efficient in capturing (and keeping) everyone's attention.

Ron nodded, pulling out his wand. "Expecto Patronum!" A small silver animal leapt from his wand and swooped past Harry before disappearing.

"You've been practicing, Ron," commended Professor Evans, nodding his head approvingly. "Your Patronus had a very distinguishable shape to it."

"Do you know what it was?" Ron asked eagerly.

Professor Evans paused. "No," he admitted. "Try it again, and maybe this time it will stick around long enough for us to get a closer look."

Ron's second Patronus only shimmered in the air for a few seconds longer before fading, though.

"Could it be a hawk?" guessed Hermione, abandoning Dean, who was muttering curses at his wand.

"It most definitely appears to be a bird," surmised Professor Evans, rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

"Well, we knew that," muttered Ron under his breath. Harry was almost positive their teacher had heard, but if he had Professor Evans gave no indication of it.

"Try it again, Ron," commanded Hermione. Harry, suppressing a grin, walked over to Dean, who didn't seem to have noticed his partner had deserted him.

"Expecto Patronum!" cried Ron impatiently, flourishing his wand. There were shouts of fear and surprise as a large animal burst from the tip of Ron's wand. Harry couldn't keep from staring as it ran in around the classroom, moving too fast to be seen properly. It didn't disappear for about twenty seconds, beating Ron's previous Patronus' by a large amount.

"What was that?" gasped Hermione, the first one able to speak.

Ron stared from her to the place where his Patronus had been, blinking wordlessly. "I- I don't know," he said at last, his eyes widening in shock. "It wasn't a bird."

"Of course, it wasn't!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do it again!" Ron willingly obliged, but on his fourth try there was only a shadow of silver, as if his Patronus energy had all but worn out.

"I did it a minute ago!" Ron said angrily, glaring at his wand and shaking it.

"We all saw you, Ron," soothed Hermione, patting him on the back. "We know you can do it."

"Why did my Patronus change, Professor?" demanded Ron, scowling.

Professor Evans did not look fazed at the irate tone in his student's voice. "I can't tell you why, Ron. I've never seen anything like it. I've heard stories from my colleagues- but I've never seen it for myself."

"Seen what?" asked Hermione, her gaze intense.

"Well, each wizard should only have one Patronus," said Professor Evans. "It appears that Ron's Patronus manifests itself in more than one form."

Ron opened his mouth to argue some more, but was stopped at a glance from Hermione. Instead, he crossed his arms petulantly, his expression sullen. Harry didn't blame him for being upset. Professor Evans hadn't provided a very good explanation as to why Ron's Patronus was acting unusually.

"I have a hypothesis on what your Patronus is, but I need to check my books before I can be sure," added Professor Evans, noting Ron's mutinous looks.

Harry was about to ask what the hypothesis was when his train of thought was interrupted.

"Harry, who's my partner? You or Hermione?" Harry turned to face an annoyed, impatient Dean; clearly, Ron wasn't the only one having trouble with his Patronus.

"I am going to kill him!" cried Ron furiously that evening.

While Harry was feeling more than a little relieved Ron wasn't mad at him, he couldn't help but think that killing Snape wasn't a good idea either. True, it would be no great loss, except to maybe the Slytherins, but Harry was pretty sure there would be serious consequences.

"Ron," pleaded Hermione, trying to calm the boiling redhead. "It's really not that bad. So we make a Love Potion or two. So what?"

"Two?" Ron's eyes, if possible, grew even wider. "How many Love Potions are you making?"

"I'm not exactly sure," said Hermione nervously, not meeting Ron's eyes.

"Well, will you be testing them?" he demanded in frustration.

Hermione and Harry shared a look before either of them spoke.

"We might," Hermione whispered in a small voice after a minute of uncomfortable silence had passed.

"But it's no big deal," added Harry quickly, wondering if Ron's face could get any redder. It was certainly scarlet enough to deserve the description "hot enough to fry an egg on."

"Making what?" asked Neville, popping up out of seemingly nowhere.

"Love Potions," replied Harry hurriedly, not really thinking. If he had just announced that Snape had awarded Gryffindor fifty points there could not have been a more stunned silence in the common room. For once it felt appropriate for the expression "you could've heard a pin drop."

"Oh, boy," he heard Hermione whisper under her breath before they were enveloped by the other students.

"You're making Love Potions?" exclaimed Seamus, his face filled with mingled jealousy and incredulity. "Aren't they banned?"

"Well, yes, under normal circumstances, but Snape convinced Dumbledore to, er, lift the ban for our class," explained Hermione, her cheeks turning pink.

"It's incredible!" roared Seamus, his initial shock wearing off to be replaced with delight. Dean, who was still too dazed to speak, nodded his head fervently.

"Are you testing them?" asked Neville, looking frightened and curious.

"Yes, do tell," said Ron heatedly, staring hard at Hermione.

She gulped. "As I said, we don't know. Snape's going to talk to Dumbledore-"

"Only good thing he's ever done!" yelled Seamus, taking Harry, and by the looks of it, many other Gryffindors, by surprise. "Making Love Potions- that's wicked!"

"It is not!" protested Ron loudly.

"But if you try them, don't you have to fall in love with somebody?" asked Lavender in a breathless whisper, her cheeks red with the effort to keep from giggling.

Hermione's face was almost the same shade as Ron's hair. "That would explain why they're called Love Potions."

"It'll be Harry, of course," said Dean, looking at Harry with admiration and awe. "You're the only boy Hermione would ever consider falling in love w-" He stopped, coughing, as Hermione gave him a sharp elbow in the chest.

"What about me?" Ron demanded indignantly. "I'm her best friend, too!"

"Well, you're not in the class," said Seamus, oblivious to the Ron's angry expression. "Love Potions! I can't believe it! Makes me wish I were in Potions this year."

It seemed as if everyone in sixth year had the same feelings, but it didn't make Harry feel any better. Ron's reaction, though, was the worst.

"You two don't seem that upset about making Love Potions," he said accusingly.

"We are," Harry assured him, but he wondered if what Ron said was at all true. In a way, Love Potions did sound exciting, and Harry couldn't help but be curious as to what effects testing them would have on himself and his classmates.

"Maybe Snape won't make us take it," said Hermione feebly, trying in vain to appease Ron. "We can go to Dumbledore and request permission-"

"Just forget it," snapped Ron. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to control his temper. "Who cares about Love Potions, anyway?" From the looks of it, he cared very much, but neither Harry nor Hermione dared to mention it. They watched him walk away after making the excuse he needed to start working on his homework.

"I'm glad I'm not in Potions," voiced Neville nervously, his face pale. "I just know Snape would pair me with someone like Millicent Bulstrode."

"Ugh, that's a thought," said Seamus, grimacing.

"Harry, what if Snape pairs Gryffindors with Slytherins?" asked Dean urgently. It seemed as if Ron's body stiffened at the question, but he didn't turn his head or comment.

"Better not hope you don't get Crabbe or Goyle," Seamus said, grinning at Hermione, whose jaw fell open in horror.

"I'd drop out!" exclaimed Ginny. Harry started; he hadn't realized she'd been standing behind Dean, listening. Now she moved forward to stand beside him, letting the fingers on her right hand drift casually to his arm.

"I don't even want to think about it," groaned Hermione, her face a pasty white. Harry had never seen her look so revolted in all their years at Hogwarts.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," said Neville bravely, though he looked a little green. "Snape wouldn't do that to members of his own House."

Harry was glad to see that Hermione looked relieved at these words. Surprisingly, Neville's reasoning made sense, and some of the anxiety that had building in him since Potions evaporated.

"You're right, Neville," said Hermione, returning to her naturally brisk self, a commanding tone in her voice. "Now let's stop discussing Potions. Half of you don't take it anyway." Slowly the group dissipated, until only Harry and Hermione were left.

Harry could barely look Hermione in the eye, and she seemed to be avoiding him as well. He couldn't help but remember Dean's words, 'It'll be Harry, of course. He's the only one Hermione would ever consider falling in love with.' From the expression on Hermione's face, she seemed to be thinking of this as well.

"Maybe I'll write to Fred and George and ask them to send Snape a Howler," she muttered before heading towards the girls' dormitories.

Harry stared at her for a second before comprehending what she'd said. He nearly laughed out loud. It was a true sign of how much Hermione loathed the idea of taking a Love Potion that she would even suggest sending a Howler to a teacher, even Snape. It was an idea worthy of a Weasley.

Hermione did not bother getting to the library early on Tuesday evening; she knew that Malfoy would be late anyway. As usual, Hermione wasn't proved wrong. Malfoy didn't swagger into the library until 7:10 and by the ferocious scowl on his face Hermione easily assumed he wasn't in the best of moods. He looked around the library for a few seconds before spotting her and striding over. He then proceeded to slam his books down on the table and sit down wordlessly, his expression thunderous.

"Aren't we cheerful today," said Hermione sarcastically, gritting her teeth in what she hoped at least resembled a smile.

Malfoy glared spitefully at her, his eyes narrowed. "Shut it, Granger."

"Now, Conrad," admonished Hermione, shaking a finger at him. "You should be polite to older students."

Malfoy could barely suppress his rage. "Keep your big mouth shut, Granger! You know perfectly well I'm just as old as you are," he spat, his voice shaking.

"Funny, you don't act like it," responded Hermione coolly, ignoring the furious glares Malfoy was still throwing her way.

"Shall we get started?" she asked sweetly.

After a moment's hesitation Malfoy nodded sullenly.

"Did you write the essays?"

"Did I have a choice?"

Hermione ducked her head to keep him from seeing her grin. "No, I suppose you didn't." Malfoy handed her several rolls of parchment, the words "Love Potions" inscribed at the top of the first one. Hermione accepted them silently, skimming the first paragraph before putting it down. They didn't look that bad, she decided, and realized this surprised her. Don't be silly, Hermione chided herself. Obviously he can't be that bad a student if he gets good grades.

"What?" Malfoy snapped irritably, mistaking her reaction. "Did I misspell a word?"

"No," replied Hermione quickly, putting the essays aside. "They looks fine. I'll read them later."

"And you'll grade me, too, I suppose." Malfoy's voice was bitter.

"Well, that was the agreement," said Hermione uncomfortably.

"What agreement?" demanded Malfoy sharply. "You've been making all the decisions!"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it. She had been bossing Malfoy around, Hermione realized, eyeing him guiltily.

She cleared her throat, nervously. "All right, Malfoy. Maybe I haven't exactly been asking for your opinion on things. What do you want to do today?"

Malfoy seemed taken aback at her question. "I- just- what we did last time was fine," he said waspishly, glaring at her as if she'd somehow tricked him.

Hermione nodded, not opening her mouth; if she did, she was positive she would laugh, and that would certainly not endear her to Malfoy.

"In Defense Against the Dark Arts we're still practicing the Patronus Charm, and in Transfiguration we've been turning monkeys into smaller animals." For a minute Hermione considered telling him that they would advance to transfiguring classmates in the next two weeks and then decided against it.

"In Potions we're-"

"I know what you're doing in Potions already," interrupted Malfoy resentfully. He glared down at the table, and Hermione had the distinct feeling he was itching for a knife to carve it up with.

"Do you?" Hermione asked, though she knew the answer.

"'You're the only boy Hermione would ever even consider falling in love with!'" mimicked Malfoy in a high-pitched voice.

It took Hermione a minute to realize whom he was quoting. Her face flushed red, though, when she remembered Dean's words from the previous night. She hadn't even considered the fact that Malfoy could be in the common room, listening to their every word. She would have to stop forgetting that the common room could no longer be considered a place of privacy.

"Granger and Potter! What a perfect couple!" continued Malfoy in his imitation of a girl's voice. "Guess that leaves Weasel on his own!"

"Don't call Ron that!" Hermione exclaimed, and even she was surprised at the anger in her voice. "He's a better person than you could ever be!"

"Well, that puts me in my place, doesn't it!" sneered Malfoy in his regular tone, his normally pale face red in anger and disgust.

"And don't make fun of Harry and me, either! It's not like we have a choice if Snape wants us to test the Love Potions!"

"Don't be stupid, Granger! Of course, you have a choice! Dumbledore would excuse you from taking it if you asked him! Potter gets away with anything he wants!"

Hermione froze, barely noticing Malfoy's latest insult on Harry. She kept on hearing his second sentence in her head, and the bitter way he said it. Finally, his anger from the moment he stepped into the library to his furious onslaught now, was explained.

"You're upset, because you won't be able to make a Love Potion," said Hermione softly, ignoring Malfoy's continuous tirade. "You don't even have the choice."

"You and Precious Potter can be making out in Potions for all I care! At least Snape would take points away from Gryffin- what did you say?"

Hermione stared at his white face, and again she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. If it weren't for his glare, Hermione was sure he would look exactly like the younger brother she'd never had.

"I said, you're upset, because you're missing out on Love Potions," repeated Hermione slowly. "You're jealous. That's why you're mad."

"I am not jealous!" argued Malfoy instantly, but his voice lacked conviction. "I'm mad, because . . ." He paused, and Hermione knew he was desperately trying to come up with a good reason.

"Because I'm stuck in this stupid library with a foul mudblood like you!" Malfoy finished triumphantly.

So much for a cute little brother, thought Hermione, regretting any sympathy she had already wasted on Malfoy. He was just a despicable, evil, vile ferret, and deserved anything and everything Ron had ever said about him in the common room.

"You know, Malfoy," said Hermione coolly, trying to keep her voice level. "It gets a little tiring after a while to hear all your rude comments about my heritage. My parents obviously raised me a lot better than your mum and dad raised you."

"Don't insult my parents, Granger!" hissed Malfoy angrily.

"And my father even managed to keep out of jail!" Hermione continued, past caring at how furious she was making Malfoy.

"You're asking for it, Granger!" he growled, whipping out his wand.

Hermione's eyes glinted coldly as she stared at him. "I'm not scared of you, Malfoy. First years aren't generally much to e worried about." Malfoy was about to reply when a sharp voice intervened.

"What is going on here?" Hermione started, turning to face a very angry Madame Pince. Hermione felt as if she had been doused in a bucket of cold water. For a moment she was eager to continue fighting, but then whatever bravery and spirit she'd been leaning on was sucked back into her body, leaving her numb with shock.

"This is a library! I would have thought you of all people would know that by now, Miss Granger, considering how many hours a week you spend in here! I should think the rules are very clear!"

"What rules?" asked Malfoy automatically, and if they weren't in the middle of being reprimanded Hermione would have snorted in disbelief.

Madame Pince turned on Malfoy, looking at him in distaste. "You are supposed to be quiet in the library! I could hear your voices all the way at my desk!"

Hermione guiltily stared down at their table, avoiding Madame Pince's gaze. She hadn't realized how loud they had been, or how out of control she had let her emotions get. Hermione raised her gaze until she was staring at Malfoy, who, she was amused to see, was still staring at Madame Pince incredulously. She couldn't help but wonder how many times he had even been in the library in his five complete years of school.

She realized Malfoy's wand was still clutched tightly in his hand. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and she felt an involuntary shudder race through her. Would he really have cursed her in the library, where there were plenty of witnesses right around the next bookcase? That was a sure way to attract a teacher's unwanted attention.

As she discreetly studied his determined, angry expression, there was no doubt in Hermione's mind that Malfoy would have hexed her. In fact, if Madame Pince hadn't come along, who knew what spell he would have used on her.

"Please excuse us, Madame Pince," said Hermione, her voice oddly clear. "We didn't mean to disturb you. I'm Conrad's tutor in Potions." It wasn't exactly a lie, Hermione admitted to herself, but her convincing tone surprised even her. She was pleased to see that Malfoy, too, looked a little bit shocked at her audacity.

Madame Pince glared suspiciously at them, eyeing their books on the table. "This doesn't look like a tutoring session to me."

"It is," Hermione assured her. "Conrad didn't understand the material Professor Snape is teaching in class, but I think he's starting to get it now. Right?" she asked, eyeing Malfoy.

He looked ready to disagree, glaring at her with undisguised hatred. "Yeah. Granger's tutoring me in-" a small spasm crossed his face, "Potions."

Madame Pince slowly relaxed, blinking at them. "Well, I'm sure you're grades will improve in no time, then. Miss Granger is undoubtedly an excellent tutor. Do not raise your voices again, though, or I will be forced to send you out of the library!" After watching them a minute to make sure her ominous words were not being taken lightly, she strode imperiously back to her desk.

"You're tutoring me in Potions?" Malfoy hissed the minute Madame Pince was out of hearing range. "I don't understand the material? Granger, that is the most ridiculous lie I have ever heard in my life, and I've told a fair share of my own!"

"Well, in a way I am tutoring you," Hermione pointed out, shrugging.

"You're telling me what I should be doing in my regular classes!"

"I helped you with the Popping Charm a few days ago!"

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "And how dare you even imply that I need your help at Potions! I'd sooner go to Snape or even McGonagall!"

"Why don't you then?" asked Hermione innocently. "I'll even go with you if you like. You can tell them all about your many escapades in Slytherin as your blonde, deceitful self. I'm sure they'll be perfectly willing to help you get into sixth year Potions in time for when we make Love Potions." Hermione couldn't restrain a smirk. "I'm not sure if Pansy will go for your new look, though."

Malfoy was practically shaking with fury. "You'd better watch it, mudblood. When the Dark Lord has claimed the wizarding world and defeated Saint Potty, I will personally make sure you are next in line!"

"You know, considering that I'm giving up my free time to help you, you're not acting particularly gracious," said Hermione, stung by his words, and trying not to show it. She couldn't believe his nerve, blatantly telling her that he would try to have her killed! It shouldn't have surprised her in the least, but to hear such vicious words, even from Malfoy, was alarming.

"Well, maybe I don't want your help! I don't want a filthy mudblood telling me what to do, anyway!" Malfoy stood up, pushing in his chair with a bang. Hermione watched him walk away, exiting the library without even looking back.

Hermione took a deep breath. She stood up quickly, gathering her books into her bag. She was attracting stares from the other students in the library. Madame Pince would probably come over any minute to kick her out. Hermione's fingers brushed against a pile of parchment.

She stared at the collection of essays Malfoy had left with her. For a moment she considered leaving them there on the table and walking away. Hermione shook her head, sweeping the parchment into her bag. She'd offer them to Malfoy later, and if he refused she'd simply throw them into the fire. She wouldn't read them; it was obvious Malfoy had ended their study sessions when he'd stormed out of the library.

Hermione barely noticed the annoyed glare Madame Pince sent her way as she left the library. The halls were pretty much empty; almost everyone was probably in his or her common room doing homework. She saw it was true for at least half the Gryffindors after giving the Fat Lady the password and entering the tower. Hermione scanned the room for any sign of Malfoy's telltale platinum blonde hair before remembering he was now a brunette. Malfoy didn't appear to be in the common room, though, with any kind of hair color, and Hermione wasn't about to ask Ron or Harry to go up and see if he were in the boys' dormitories.

Hermione climbed the stairs to her own dormitory. She wondered why she wasn't feeling happier. After all, she wouldn't be planning secret rendezvous' with Malfoy anymore, which under normal circumstances would have made her jump for joy. Hermione's heart felt strangely heavy, though, as she sank onto her bed, not bothering to undress. Her bag beside her was bulging from the books she'd brought to help Malfoy learn the material they were studying. Now, thanks to their fight, he wouldn't be learning anything in sixth year, and, for some odd reason, she was feeling strangely guilty about it.

Forget about Malfoy, Hermione urged herself. He's just a creep who wants you dead. He said so himself!

But as Hermione's breathing slowed and she began to fall into a deep slumber, she wondered if Malfoy was regretting their argument and perhaps wanted to continue their tutoring sessions.

And more importantly, did she?