Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 7

Three Questions, Two Pixies, and A Truce

Their next Care of Magical Creatures lesson was again spent working with the pixies. Hagrid had progressed to letting each pair of students have their own pixie to watch. Their assignment was to take care of it for an hour and record what they did.

"Hermione, I think our pixie definitely likes you better than us," grumbled Ron thirty minutes into the lesson. He scowled at the pixie, who was currently on Hermione's shoulder, twirling her hair around its fingers.

Hermione laughed, tickling the pixie with her index finger. "Don't be silly, Ron. Your hair just isn't long enough to play with." Ron rolled his eyes and didn't respond, leaning grumpily against a tall oak tree with his arms crossed.

"Shouldn't we be giving it its food?" asked Harry, offering Hermione the bowl of cut up cherries Hagrid had given each group.

"I think it's a she, not an it," said Hermione, absent-mindedly rubbing the pixie on the back. "And Hagrid said that some of the pixies might not be hungry."

"Well, I am," Ron announced, pulling a handful of cherries out of the bowl and popping them into his mouth.

"Ron!" cried Hermione exasperatedly, jerking forward and catching his hand. "You've already had lunch!"

"Yeah, but I spent half the time thinking of evil ways to get back at Snape for what he's doing to us in Potions!"

"Us?" inquired Hermione, and Harry almost swore she was fighting back a laugh. "Ron, you're not even in the class! What should you be complaining about?"

"If you two do have to fall in love, like Dean said, then who knows what could happen!" Ron burst out, his expression darkening. "You and Harry could end up dating for the next two years because of it, and I'll be the third wheel."

"Hermione and I are not going to be falling in love," said Harry loudly, feeling his face grow hot as other students turned to look them at them and then laugh.

"But, what if it's for a grade?" asked Hermione anxiously, forgetting all about their pixie, who had now flown to the top of her head and was perched on her hair. "I don't want to fail Potions just because of an unfair assignment."

"Hermione," said Harry, in what he hoped was a gallant manner, "I promise that if falling in love with you will keep you from having to drop Potions, I will make the ultimate sacrifice and do it." It was meant to be a joke, but for some reason the ever-present anxiety in the bottom of his stomach only increased.

Hermione, who didn't seem to catch his sarcasm, nodded, looking relieved. Ron let out a choking noise, his face red in an effort to keep from laughing.

The pixie, noticing that it was no longer the center of attention, let out a tiny squeak and zoomed in the middle of the trio, its small wings fluttering madly. Ron gave a yelp, jumping back and hitting the tree behind him. The pixie flew to Harry, making him jerk back in surprise, almost losing his balance as well, before darting back over to Ron, who was still sprawled on the ground.

"What does it want?" asked Ron in a panicky voice as the pixie chattered in indecipherable squeaks.

"I think she wants her cherries now," said Hermione, obviously trying to suppress laughter. She pointed to the cherries that Ron was still holding in his hand. Reluctantly, the redhead dropped them back into the bowl, and the pixie, mollified, flew back onto Hermione's outstretched hand.

"I think Hermione was right when she said that thing was a female," Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Harry, giving the pixie an affronted look.

Harry couldn't tell if Hermione had heard or not, but then again, she was smiling in a very satisfied way. He could almost swear the pixie was wearing a similar expression as it calmly ate the cherries that Hermione offered it.

"I've got a bit of a surprise for ye," announced Hagrid at the end of the lesson, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, and smiling at the class. Harry felt a sense of foreboding at the word 'surprise;' Hagrid's 'surprises' were not generally what an ordinary person would call fun.

"Not anything dangerous!" exclaimed Lavender at once, her eyes wide with fright. She wasn't the only student to step back in apprehension, eyeing Hagrid as if he were about to pull a full-grown dragon from behind his back.

Hagrid chuckled, not seeming to realize that she was serious. "O' course not. Professor Dumbledore's given me permission to let some of you take care o' the pixies outside of class. Fer extra-credit, you know." He let this bit of information sink in before continuing.

"You'll have to share the responsibilities in groups, but I figure we can get about three pixies per House." Hagrid beamed at the class, waiting for a reaction.

For a moment it seemed as if Harry's facial features weren't working; he almost always automatically smiled at whatever Hagrid said, but this piece of news actually was surprising for a change. It appeared as if the rest of the students were having similar thoughts.

Lavender and Parvati, for probably the first time in any of Hagrid's classes, were intrigued by the offer and were whispering together excitedly, eyeing the assorted pixies.

Even the Slytherins, Harry was glad (and slightly astonished) to see, were considering Hagrid's offer. Pansy Parkinson, who would in ordinary circumstances sniff in contempt, was obviously trying to keep her curiosity and anticipation hidden.

"Oh," Hermione breathed softly, a small smile on her face. "Hagrid- that's wonderful!"

"Can Parvati and I share one?" Lavender called out immediately, waving a hand in the air.

"I want one, too!" added Pansy loudly, not to be outdone.

Hargrid looked immensely happy and proud at the class's reaction. "Don't worry," he chuckled. "Everyone will get a chance to look after a pixie."

"But what if we don't want to?" asked Millicent, attempting to glare at Hagrid and failing miserably. She glanced over at Crabbe and Goyle as she said it, who were both looking particularly dense at the moment.

"I mean, I'm going to share with Pansy," Millicent amended quickly. "I'm asking about other people."

"I don't think I could take care of a pixie," said Neville in low tones, his voice quivering tremulously. "I'd probably lose it right away or forget to feed it or something."

"They're not 'it's and you can't just lose them," said Hermione, but no one was paying attention.

"Find a partner for sharing a pixie with," Hagrid called out, and Harry immediately grabbed Ron's arm.

"Harry!" Ron protested, staring nervously at the cage of pixies Hagrid was holding. "You don't really want to look after one of those things, do you? We'd never get any work done, and what about Quidditch practice?"

"I'm sure we could find someone to watch it," said Harry, trying to ignore Ron's pleading expression.

"And it'll be very educational taking care of a pixie," added Hermione eagerly, her eyes shining. Ron snorted in disbelief, receiving a glare in return.

"We'll do it for Hagrid," said Harry.

Ron sighed reluctantly before giving one last, feeble argument. "But the Slytherins aren't giving him any trouble on this assignment. He doesn't really need support-"

"Ron," said Hermione reprovingly, her hands on her hips. "It'll be fun." She glanced around, biting her lip. "Now, I just need a partner . . ."

Harry waited patiently for Hagrid to finish dealing with the Slytherins. It seemed that everyone besides Pansy and Millicent (in other words, the boys) was adamantly refusing to baby-sit a pixie. Ironically, Harry thought, smiling slightly, they were probably the ones who needed the extra credit the most.

Eventually Hagrid came over to the Gryffindors, leaving the Slytherin boys looking decidedly grumpy.

"Are they doing it?" asked Hermione, staring at their sullen faces in disbelief.

Hagrid nodded, beaming. "Yup. Jus' took a little convincing."

"Not to mention it'll keep them from failing," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Even Crabbe and Goyle?" demanded Hermione, as if positive Hagrid were pulling her leg.

"Well," said Hagrid, glancing back at the Slytherins uncomfortably. "They'll be working with Blaise Zabaini. I don't want the pixies getting hurt, after all." Hermione nodded fervently in agreement.

"Do you two want a pixie?" asked Hagrid, directing the question at Harry and Ron.

"Yes," replied Harry instantly, ignoring the pained expression on his friend's face. "It won't be throughout the school year, though, will it?"

Hagrid shook his head, his tangled black hair covering his face. "I figure a few weeks, maybe a month at most." He chuckled, glancing at the pixie Hermione was holding fondly. "Pixies can be tricky little blighters if yer not strict with 'em."

"Don't we know," mumbled Ron, and Harry was sure he was recalling their former experience with pixies in Lockhart's class.

"They like to play pranks sometimes, the naughty ones."

"And what do the good ones do?" asked Ron sarcastically. "Do they just sit around quietly and ignore us?"

Hagrid frowned. "No, actually, sometimes they like a little mischief, too." Harry inwardly groaned, as Ron stared reproachfully at the fairy they had been working with in class. Hagrid's comments were doing nothing to assuage Ron's worries.

"So which one do we get?" asked Harry quickly, trying to avert any more questions that might result in more information that he wanted.

"Why don't you take this one?" suggested Hagrid, pointing at the pixie Hermione was holding. "You seemed to be getting on pretty well."

"You mean Hermione was getting on pretty well with it," corrected Ron, frowning.

"Hagrid, I was wondering if I could take care of this one," said Hermione nervously. "She- she's rather attached to me."

Ron snorted. "If you ask me, I'd say the feeling's mutual."

"Who's your partner?" Hagrid asked.

"I don't have one," replied Hermione, blushing. "Neville doesn't think he can take care of a pixie, and everyone else is already paired up."

Hagrid thought for a moment, studying first her and then the pixie on her shoulder. "Well," he said at last. "I figure yer responsible enough to look after a pixie on yer own. The Slytherins only wanted two, so we do have one left over." He glanced at Harry and Ron, smiling slightly. "You two don't mind if Hermione takes this pixie, do you?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "She can have it. As Ron said, I don't think it likes boys that much."

"Not to mention cherry thieves," murmured Hermione out of the corner of her mouth.

Hagrid grinned broadly, clapping his hands. "Well, that's settled. I'll go fetch you two a pixie, then. I know the perfect one!" He strode away quickly, and in less than a moment they could see him peering into the pixies' cage, making soothing noises at them.

"What did he mean by, 'the perfect one'?" asked Ron quickly, paling.

Harry shrugged. "We'll find out in a minute."

Sure enough, Hagrid returned in no time carrying another pixie. The second one was at least an inch taller than most of the others, and the way it quietly studied its surroundings, a crafty look in its eye, reminded Harry of the Weasley twins. His suspicious were confirmed when the pixie started to slyly wriggle out of Hagrid's grasp, its wings fluttering madly.

"Oh, no you don't!" cried Hagrid, as the pixie gave a shout of triumph. Harry started as it launched itself into the air, flying upward. After five years of catching the golden Snitch, though, his reflexes were excellent, and he managed to grab the pixie before it darted out of his reach. The pixie chattered indignantly as Harry tightened his grip so that its arms were pinned to its side and its head was the only part of its body visible.

"Careful, Harry, you're going to hurt it!" exclaimed Hermione worriedly, gazing at the struggling pixie sympathetically.

"I'll bet," Ron muttered under his breath, watching the pixie in undisguised distaste. "Hagrid, why is it trying to escape?"

"This here is Sprink," chuckled Hagrid, wagging a finger at the pixie, who stuck out a small blue tongue in reply. "He's a tricky fellow; keeps on gnawing at the cage walls. If I hadn't heard him I reckon there would be pixies all over the school by now."

"So why are you giving him to us?" Ron demanded quickly, backing away a few inches. "Aren't there any well-behaved pixies left?"

Hagrid waved a hand in the air dismissively. "I'm saving them fer the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Besides, I feel sorry for Sprink, cooped up in the cage all the time. He's a wild one; he'll enjoy seeing the castle."

"Yes, but what if he starts breaking stuff or interrupting classes?" interrupted Harry, sharing a look with Ron and Hermione. None of their teachers, except for maybe Professor Flitwick, would be willing to tolerate a disruptive pixie in class. Harry didn't even want to think about what Snape would do if Sprink started causing havoc in Potions.

Hagrid didn't seem to think this was a possibility. "I don't know what you're worrying about! You two can handle a pixie! And Hermione will be there to help you."

"I thought they would be helping me with my pixie," said Hermione, a smile hovering on her lips.

Hagrid muttered something incoherent, turning red. "Yes, well, you can all work together." Ron rolled his eyes and stared pointedly at Harry; it was quite clear whom Hagrid thought was the most responsible out of the three.

"What's my pixie's name?" Hermione asked eagerly, her face still flushed from Hagrid's tacit compliment.

"Er." Hagrid paused. "I haven't named all of them," he admitted. "Just Sprink, really. Actually, the chap who loaned 'em to me named him."

"You mean she doesn't even have a name?" demanded Hermione, outraged. She hugged her pixie. "But she's so sweet and adorable! She needs a name!"

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to be naming them, Hermione," advised Hagrid. "You don't want to get too attached to them, after all. This project will only be for a few weeks."

Hermione didn't answer, and Harry had the distinct feeling she was pretending she hadn't heard Hagrid's advice. A small squeak came from his hand, and Harry jumped. He had forgotten that Sprink was there, still fighting to get out.

"Let Ron try holding him," suggested Hagrid.

"That's ok, I'm fine," said Ron quickly, stepping back. "I'm not, er, partial to pixies like Hermione is."

"Bubble?" said Hermione to herself, seeming to forget the Harry, Ron, and Hagrid were there. She wrinkled her nose. "Nah. Too boring."

Ron rolled his eyes, and Hagrid looked on helplessly as Hermione continued muttering possible names to herself. For the rest of the period Hagrid gave the class numerous, detailed instructions on how to watch the pixies, and when it came time to leave, with their new charges in hand, Ron's mood hadn't improved.

"Sing them to sleep each night? Make sure they interact with other pixies? And keep a journal? How does Hagrid expect us to do all that and our schoolwork?" Ron demanded, frustrated.

Harry looked at Sprink (who was trying to undo the clasp on his bag) and felt a small shudder race through him. What had he gotten himself into this time?

* * *

Hermione was lying on her four-poster bed in the sixth-year girls' dormitory going over an essay for Transfiguration. She seldom used her bed as a workplace, preferring the tables in the common room; ever since her blow-up with Malfoy in the library, though, she had been avoiding him, Madame Pince, and consequentially, the library.

At last she sighed and rolled up her parchment, aching with boredom. The boys were at Quidditch practice and her pixie (she still hadn't thought of a name) was sleeping peacefully on her pillow. Hermione opened her bag, searching for a book she'd found on her first rendezvous with Malfoy, A History of Animagi, by Elfredina Mitchdale.

When she pulled out the thick volume, though, a cascade of papers came tumbling out as well. Hermione started, not recognizing the handwriting as her own. At first she couldn't remember why the papers were in there, but on closer inspection she saw it was the bundle of Malfoy's essays he'd left in the library.

It had been a week since their disastrous study session and since then she had been keeping a close eye on Malfoy. Hermione was almost positive he had started skipping classes again. On her way back from Arithmancy the previous Thursday she had witnessed Professor McGonagall speaking to him angrily just inside the Transfiguration classroom, and on Monday she had seen a familiar brown head near their Charms classroom when she was returning form a trip to the girls' lavatory. He had most certainly not had any reason to be there when he had classes of his own.

Hermione's first instinct was to get up and throw the essays into the fireplace. She paused, poised to get up, and then lay back down, clutching what looked like the first page. Why not read it, she wondered hesitantly. She was curious how good a writer Malfoy was, and if he'd learned anything from the material she'd given him at all. After one last glance at the door to make sure no one was coming, Hermione began reading.

Love Potions are a thing of great controversy in the wizarding world. For centuries charms and talismans have been used in the aid of match-making, but for a guaranteed result, Love Potions are, without a doubt, the best solutions. To make one requires a study of human ethics and values. Protesters of the use of Love Potions argue that it is morally wrong to induce or trick people to fall in love, that in doing so we are taking advantage of our magical powers. Others say that love is fated and these Potions simply help soul mates find each other . . .

Hermione sat up, holding the essay. She was amazed at how concise Malfoy's writing was and how much sense it made. Of course, having done the essay herself already, Hermione knew all the information, but it was still interesting to read his point of view. She had to admit, Malfoy's opening paragraph was equal to Harry's, and quite possibly better than Ron's would've been had the redhead been in the class.

She continued reading, unconsciously making little notes with her quill. When she reached the last page a small, unattached piece of parchment loosed itself and fluttered to the floor. Hermione retrieved it, her eyes opening wide as she read the short message inscribed on it in Malfoy bold flourishes.

Ask Granger:

- Explain what incident caused the banning of Love Potions

- For list of incantations for human transfiguration

- How long venomous tentaculas take to grow.

There was a crossed out line at the end, but Hermione was almost positive she could see the word 'Quidditch' in there and 'Gryffindor.' She wondered briefly if maybe Malfoy were reconsidering her idea of him trying out for the extra Chaser position. Hermione dismissed the idea, turning back to his list of hurriedly scribbled questions and re-reading them.

An odd feeling rose in her when she realized that Malfoy had purposely made a list of things he wanted to ask her. It was true that he probably could have found the answer if he had spent a little time in the library researching, but the fact remained that he had still recognized her as his tutor. For some reason this made Hermione happy, and she smiled.

Her face fell, though, at the thought that she wouldn't be able to answer his questions. She hated it when her friends or classmates didn't understand something, and she could explain it to them quite easily. Of course, Malfoy could hardly be considered a classmate, much less a friend.

Hermione stared down at his essay, her stomach churning. There were a few typographical errors, (really, teenage boys never checked anything!) but there were also some points that Malfoy didn't seem to understand, such as the fact that Love Potions could end badly. He had plenty of obvious examples where the couple spent their lives together happily, but Hermione had found the same number of instances where their had been court cases settled by the Ministry of Magic and even a few suicides from unrequited love.

She paused before writing down his grade. They had received their graded essays back from Snape their last lesson. Hermione had gotten an 'E,' (only because Snape was biased, of course) and Harry had gotten an 'A' (Hermione whole-heartedly agreed with him that he should have gotten an 'E'). Malfoy's essay, while probably not equal to her own, deserved an Exceeds Expectations. Hermione considered giving him a low grade in retaliation for all the insults over the years, but dismissed the idea. She would try to be a fair grader and not let her personal issues with him get in the way. On his very first graded homework of his sixth year, Malfoy received an 'E.'

Hermione bit her lip, rifling through his other essays. There wasn't another bulleted list of questions for her, but the fact remained that he had been taking their study sessions seriously, and from his obvious actions in the past week he most definitely wanted to know what they were learning.

Before she could change her mind Hermione stood up and gathered up the essay on Love Potions with her revisions on it. She strode hurriedly down the spiral steps leading from the girls' dormitories. The last she had seen of Malfoy, he had been sitting in his usual armchair in the common room writing in his diary. It was the reason she had taken refuge in her dormitory in the first place.

Hermione quickly spotted him. Malfoy was huddled over his diary, his face hidden in shadows. His sharp profile and brooding air reminded her remarkably of Victor Krum, but she squashed the thought quickly since there were no resemblances in their characters at all. She glanced around quickly for Harry and Ron and spotted them playing wizards' chess in front of the fire. At least, it looked as if they were trying to, but their pixie, Sprink, was too busy stealing the pieces and attempting to toss them into the fire. Hermione smiled slightly at his antics, hoping that he would keep Harry and Ron occupied for a few minutes so they wouldn't see her.

Hermione brushed her unruly brown hair behind her ears and took a deep breath before striding determinedly over to the armchair where Malfoy was sitting. He either didn't hear her approaching or was too busy writing in his diary to notice. Normally Hermione would have waited for him to see her, but already a few Gryffindors had spotted her entering the room and were watching her curiously.

Hermione cleared her throat.

Malfoy gave a small start, jerking his head up in surprise. His eyes narrowed instantly when he saw who it was, and he opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off before he could speak.

"I'll see you in the library at six on Friday," Hermione informed him, trying to make her tone sound as straight-forward and stern as Professor McGonagall's usually was. Before he could argue she shoved the corrected essay into his lap and turned around, heading straight back to her dormitory.

On the first step of the stairs she stopped and turned around, trying to slow her nervous, erratic breathing. Hermione peeked around the corner and saw Malfoy slowly pick up the essay, studying it for a minute. He looked up, and she saw the confusion on his face. His eyes searched the common room, looking for her, and Hermione ducked around. She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down, and at last her pulse began to return to normal. When she entered the common room again a few minutes later to join Harry and Ron, calm and collected as ever, Malfoy had disappeared through the portrait hole.

Hermione smiled to herself as she took a seat at Harry and Ron's table. She was slightly overwhelmed by the fact that she had practically ordered Malfoy to meet her in the library. The look of shock and confusion on his face that she had just told him what to do was priceless.

"Hey," Ron said hurriedly, turning immediately back to his pixie. "Sprink! Stop that!" Hermione laughed as Ron tried unsuccessfully to wrestle his knight from Sprink's grasp, and Harry gripped the chess board to keep it from toppling over.

Gently she pried the chess figure away from the mischievous pixie and handed it back to Ron. Hermione nodded as both boys thanked her profusely. She soothed Sprink by explaining to the pixie why Harry's pawn was being mercilessly beaten over the head by Ron's knight. Hermione didn't mind taking care of Sprink for the moment, even though he wasn't technically her pixie. After bossing around her worst enemy, she felt she could do anything.

* * *

Hermione didn't know whether her subconscious had purposely scheduled the tutoring session for the end of the week or if it had been coincidental that she would have to wait five days before seeing if Malfoy would follow her instructions and show up; whatever the case, there were nervous butterflies in her stomach all week in anticipation.

When she got the library Friday evening, Hermione checked the tables and bookcases to make sure he wasn't already there and then went to wait in the hall. She had no idea if he would appear or not. Knowing Malfoy, he could just as easily ignore her request. If he did, Hermione had reluctantly decided that she would quit trying to tutor him. Fighting with a Slytherin was hard in and of itself; fighting with a stubborn Slytherin who didn't want to do something was pretty near impossible.

At 6:10 Malfoy hadn't arrived and the halls were starting to clear of students. Hermione kept on twisting around impatiently, peering down the passages for any sign of him. At a quarter past six, she was the only one left standing in the hall except for the occasional student entering or leaving the library. Hermione sighed, irritation getting the better of her. She was tired of attracting curious stares from the other students, and it didn't look as if Malfoy were coming any time soon. Not only did she feel foolish, Hermione was also extremely aggravated that she had wasted all this time waiting for him. She had already had to leave Ginny on babysitting duty; the youngest Weasley had been very surprised when Hermione had dumped a pixie in her lap and then rushed out of the common room saying she'd be back soon.

So much for trying to help people, Hermione thought angrily, heading towards the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. It'll serve Malfoy right if he has to repeat sixth year!

She rounded the corner quickly, not bothering to check if anyone there. Hermione collided with another person, hitting the wall with a thump. She gasped and rubbed the back of her head gingerly, glancing at the other person.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was go- Malfoy?" Hermione exclaimed, recognizing the smaller boy. "What are you doing here?"

He scowled at her from the floor, where he'd fallen after they'd bumped into each other. "Meeting you in the library supposedly. I guess not, though," he said coolly, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione extended a hand to help him up. "I've been waiting for you for fifteen minutes! It's not my fault you're late!"

Malfoy glared at her reproachfully. "I couldn't decide whether to come or not."

Hermione didn't have anything to say in response to this and instead leaned forward. "I won't bite, you know."

Malfoy stared at her hand suspiciously for a moment before reluctantly taking it. Hermione heaved him up, stepping back quickly and blushing slightly. She felt weird touching his hand, especially after their history together.

"Shall we go then?" Hermione asked, trying to ease the tension.

It was Malfoy's turn to redden. "Er, I don't think Madame Pince wants me back in the library." He coughed, avoiding her gaze. "I went into the library on Wednesday and she got quite shirty. Said we were much too loud last time, and she didn't want me coming back in."

"What about me?" asked Hermione instantly, her anxiousness apparent in her face. "Madame Pince didn't say I couldn't come back, did she?"

Malfoy made a face. "Granger, I think our friendly librarian is well aware of the fact that you wouldn't leave the place if you had a choice. So, yes, she didn't say anything about you."

Hermione was too relieved to get mad at him for the insult. "All right, well, maybe we can sneak you in. If we can't we'll go somewhere else."

"I don't even want to know where," she heard Malfoy mutter under his breath as she turned and led the way back down the hall.

At the doorway to the library Hermione cautiously peeked in. Madame Pince was sitting at her desk, speaking crossly to a nervous looking second year. Hermione gulped and hurried in, not looking at the desk. Once behind a bookshelf she beckoned Malfoy to join her. He rolled his eyes and slouched down so that if Madame Pince did turn around she would only see the back of his head.

Hermione waited impatiently while he purposely walked slowly over to her and then straightened up.

"You're only 4'8'' at most, it shouldn't take you this long!" Hermione snapped, letting her temper get the better of her.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, glaring at her mutinously. "It's not too late for me to leave, Granger."

Hermione bit her lip, feeling a little ashamed. "Sorry," she apologized, blushing. "I wasn't thinking. Please stay."

Malfoy sat at a small dusty table without replying. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as he began taking some his books and a quill out of his bag. He wasn't going to leave, at least not yet.

"I liked your essay," Hermione said honestly, taking out her own materials. "You weren't just copying down my notes."

"Did you think I would?" demanded Malfoy, switching back to defensive.

"That's not what I mean," Hermione protested. "I just-" She sighed, not bothering to finish her answer. From the look on Malfoy's face he clearly knew exactly what she thought of Slytherins and their work habits.

"I read your essay on Patronuses, but I think you were a bit vague. You also didn't say what you thought yours would be," Hermione pointed out, handing him the graded essay.

Malfoy accepted it silently, his eyes going swiftly to the marks at the bottom. Hermione winced as he slapped the essay on the table, scowling.

"'Incomplete?' What do you mean incomplete? The directions were to explain what Patronuses were and what they do!"

"But you didn't say what you thought yours would be," Hermione reminded him, not bothering to mention that she'd just said this a moment ago.

"How should I know what it is?" Malfoy exclaimed in exasperation. "I've never tried it before!"

"Well, what animal is special to you?" Hermione prodded. "You don't have to be right, you're just making a hypothesis."

Malfoy stared at her shrewdly, obviously waiting for more.

"What?" Hermione asked, wondering what she'd left out. Her hand automatically went to her bushy hair, in case he were about to make fun of her appearance.

"You're not going to say that my Patronus is going be a- a-" he gestured wildly in the air. "You know a-"

"What?" asked Hermione again, very confused. She didn't know what he was talking about.

Malfoy turned bright red, and when he spoke it was in a mumble she had to strain to hear. "Ferret."

Hermione would've laughed if he weren't looking so sorry and up-set. He seemed to truly think that she had known what he had been thinking and was playing dumb on purpose. Malfoy ducked his head in embarrassment at the small smile playing on her lips. Hermione almost reached over to pat his arm, but stopped herself at the last second.

"You don't want me to say that, do you?" Hermione asked, trying to keep a straight face. In truth, the possibility of his Patronus being a ferret hadn't struck her at all.

Malfoy's head shot up in horror. "Of course not!"

"Then why would I?"

"It's what the other Gryffindors would've done," Malfoy muttered uncomfortably.

"No they wouldn't," Hermione argued, thinking of Ginny and Neville. "Maybe- maybe a few," she admitted reluctantly, thinking guiltily of what Harry and Ron would have said. "But I didn't even think of that."

Malfoy stared at her suspiciously. "I'm sure."

"Really, I didn't!" Hermione objected in a hurt voice. "I thought maybe it would be a snake or something else- like . . . that," she finished lamely, blushing.

Malfoy looked taken aback and more than a little surprised. "Oh. Er, thanks, then." There was a pause while neither of them looked at the other, each of them pretending to be studying something else fascinating (Hermione was pretending to read the title on the spine of a book behind Malfoy's head).

Finally she cleared her throat. "Yes, well, if you want to finish the essay, then I'll grade it. Probably an 'A,' maybe an 'E,'" she added hastily. "Now, about the questions on your Love Potion essay. Do you have it?"

Malfoy rummaged in his bag for a moment before finding it. When Hermione held out her hand, though, he drew it back.

"You gave me an Exceeds Expectations," he said abruptly.

Hermione sighed inwardly. Most likely Malfoy was about to demand why he hadn't gotten an 'O.'

"It was a good essay, I just wanted to explain a few things to you," Hermione began, wondering how long it would be before they started fighting over her grading.

"You didn't give me a 'D' or even a Poor."

Hermione paused. This wasn't what she had expected. When she searched his face for answer, though, it was impassive.

"As I said, it was a good essay," Hermione said eventually.

"Thank you," said Malfoy impatiently. "What I mean is, you didn't give me a bad grade."

"I know," Hermione said, wondering even more where this was leading.

"I thought you would."

Hermione stared at him incredulously. "Why?"

He sighed at her ignorance but for once didn't say anything insulting. "I thought you would give me bad marks in revenge for . . . certain things. But you didn't."

Hermione blinked indignantly. "I graded fairly! I graded according to what I thought Professor Snape would've given you!"

"Actually you didn't, because Professor Snape would've given me an 'O,'" Malfoy pointed out, a smile hovering on his lips. "And what I'm saying is, I know that you graded fairly. So I suppose, I have to thank you for that to," he mused, sounding as if he were thinking aloud to himself. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and Hermione was shocked to see he wasn't frowning.

"So, thank you."

"You're welcome," Hermione said automatically, and then blushed. She could usually understand Harry and Ron perfectly, considering they were teenage boys, but Malfoy just kept on confusing her. She would never have thought Malfoy would thank her for anything . . . but maybe he was doing it on purpose because he knew it unnerved her. She cleared her throat. "About your questions . . ."

She saved his first question for last, as it would be the most lengthy in explanation. Malfoy listened attentively when Hermione talked about venomous tentaculas and transfiguration, but he seemed really interested in what caused Love Potions to be prohibited at Hogwarts.

"The book on Love Potions I gave you only gives a quick outline on why they're banned," Hermione stated. "I did some extra reading (Malfoy coughed a small "surprise, surprise," into his hand and then tried to look innocent) and the explanation is really shocking."

"Scandalous, I'm sure," Malfoy said, smirking ever so slightly.

Hermione suppressed a smile. "Actually, it was a scandal." It was one of the rare moments in which Malfoy was completely stunned into silence. Hermione found she liked doing that to him.

"About one hundred years ago, in 1903, a sixth year girl made a Love Potion and then used it on someone." Hermione paused. "It was rather effective, and it caused an uproar all over the school. The Daily Prophet wrote loads of articles on it."

"Why?" asked Malfoy impatiently. "I'm sure it wasn't the first time a Love Potion had been used at Hogwarts!"

"Well," said Hermione, and she couldn't stop from giggling. "It was the first time it was used on a teacher!"

There was a heavy silence that was broken only by Hermione's muffled chuckles. Malfoy looked horrified, his face white.

"On a teacher?" he asked in disbelief, his voice hoarse. "That's- that's just- wrong!" he exclaimed vehemently.

"I know," laughed Hermione. "He was the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher and had graduated from Hogwarts himself a few years ago. The girl, I think her name was Claire Haynes, was quite smitten with him."

"What happened?" Malfoy asked, aghast. Hermione took pity on him, and decided not to draw it out by asking if he really wanted to know.

"She made a very strong Love Potion and snuck into the kitchens on Valentine's night. The version she made had one of her hairs in it so that he would be attracted to her and only to her. Then she slipped it into his drink." Hermione had to stop her story, she was so overcome by hysteria. Not only was the truth utterly ridiculous, but the horror-struck expression on Malfoy's face was priceless.

"He was eyeing her all through dinner and had a bit too much to drink. After the feast he met her in the hall and, um," Hermione found she was unable to speak, not because she was laughing, but because she was blushing too hard.

"They- they didn't," Malfoy said weakly.

Hermione nodded "They certainly, er, kissed, and it probably would have gone further if they hadn't been found out."

"W-who discovered them?" Malfoy asked faintly.

"The Headmaster, Professor Armando Dippet, caught them when he was leaving the Great Hall, as did the other two hundred students coming out of the Great Hall!" Hermione replied, laughing.

"They did?" asked Malfoy, sounding positively delighted. "They didn't even get past kissing, and the headmaster caught them? In the hall? With the other students watching?"

Hermione nodded. "Needless to say she was expelled, and the teacher had to have psychological help at St. Mungos after the antidote was administered."

"His name wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart by any chance, was it?" asked Malfoy, grinning slyly.

Hermione blushed and didn't answer. Was he making fun of their old teacher, or did he know about her crush on him in second year? Of course, dozens of girls had been impressed with his charm and good looks, and Malfoy would certainly know that.

"I- I don't remember what his name was," said Hermione, still unsettled by Malfoy's ever-growing grin. "I think it might've been Professor Ames. They tried to hush it all up for his sake since he obviously hadn't, er, meant to take the Love Potion."

"So what House was this girl in?" asked Malfoy, still grinning. "Hufflepuff? Slytherin? It sounds like something we might do."

"Actually, no," said Hermione thoughtfully. "She was in Ravenclaw."

Malfoy snorted. "And I thought they were wise."

"Everything has its exception," Hermione replied, shrugging. "For instance, Gryffindor happens to have you at the moment." She knew it the wrong thing to say the moment it was out of her mouth.

Malfoy's face took on a steely look and the grin faded. "I don't need you to make fun of the fact that the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor, Granger. Especially since you're the one who wants to hold these cozy little study sessions. You came to me."

"I'm not making fun of it! I just think it's odd, that's all! Obviously, something's changed since the first time-"

"I resent that," Malfoy interrupted, glaring at her. "I'm exactly the same as I was five years ago!"

"Except for your hair color," Hermione said without thinking. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking! I didn't mean-"

Malfoy wasn't listening, though. He stood up, sweeping everything into his bag and yanking his essay on Love Potions out of her hand. "You may think you're so wonderful and sweet for trying to help the 'poor little first-year,' Granger, but so far all I hear are insults about my appearance and questions about why the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor. Believe me, if I could switch to Slytherin, I would. I know perfectly well you think I'm a horrible, deceitful, idiot who doesn't deserve to be in your precious House! So go ahead and say all the nasty things about me you want. You can go back to your stupid common room and do it with Weasley! I'm sure he'd love that!"

"Malfoy!" argued Hermione, standing up. "I'm really sorry! Please don't leave!"

"Don't tell me what to do, mudblood!" Malfoy hissed. He made to leave, but Hermione, in her panic, grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stay. He struggled, actually going so far as to push her off forcefully. Hermione gasped, yanking him backwards by his bag and grabbing his wrist. She ignored him as he started spewing curses at her.

"Malfoy, you're not leaving until you hear what I have to say," Hermione said determinedly.

"I'll curse you, Granger," he threatened, whipping out his wand.

"Just listen to me!" Hermione exclaimed, lowering her voice and glancing around for Madame Pince. "I'm sorry I said that. I was not trying to be mean or insult you. When I said you were an exception I was just alluding to the fact that you're really a Slytherin. I really want you to stay. And I'm so sorry," Hermione said pleadingly.

Malfoy stared at her incredulously, his anger diminished somewhat in his shock. "You want me to stay? Granger, you hate me!"

"Well, yes, I do, but I don't want you to fail sixth year just because of a stupid curse Voldemort put on you."

"Why?" he demanded. "We're not even friends. Why do you care?"

"I don't know!" Hermione cried, frustrated. "But if it were me I'd want help! And I feel guilty that you're missing out on everything. And I'm sorry I keep on saying the wrong things. I'll try really hard not to insult you again." Her voice trailed off, and Hermione knew there was nothing more she could say to him.

Malfoy stared at her for a minute, his face pale and withdrawn. "Will you let go of me?" he asked at last. "Your nails are starting to hurt."

Hermione blushed, releasing his wrist quickly. She reluctantly stepped back, eyeing him nervously.

"Please?" she asked again. "Let's at least try to make this work?"

Malfoy moved slowly back to his seat, still glaring at her. "This is it, Granger. One more 'accidental' insult and I'm leaving for good."

"Deal," Hermione said quickly. She held out her hand, but he just rolled his eyes. "We need to stop fighting," she said, sitting down as well. "Otherwise we're going to have the same argument every time we meet."

"All right, Granger, let's be friends," Malfoy drawled. "I'll even invite you to my next birthday party if you want."

Hermione bit back a sharp retort about his age. She snapped her fingers, an idea coming to her. "That's exactly what I mean! You're so hostile, Malfoy. Maybe if you didn't treat me like something that needs to be stepped on we'd get along better. Call me by my name. Not Granger, or 'mudblood,' just my real name."

He stared at her in disbelief, as if waiting for the punch line in a joke. "You are joking, Granger . . . aren't you?" he asked in almost pleading tones.

"No, I'm not," Hermione said patiently. "And I think you mean to say, 'you are joking, Hermione'."

"No, I didn't!" Malfoy said vehemently, shaking his head. "That's not your name." It was such a ridiculous statement Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Ok, maybe it is your name," Malfoy admitted. "But that would be implying that we're friends. Which we're not," he said quickly.

Hermione suppressed a grin. "Just say it once. Please?" she asked, imitating Lavender and batting her eyelashes.

Malfoy looked nothing short of revolted. "No! I refuse to call you Hermione!" His eyes widened and he jerked back, opening his mouth in horror. "I didn't say that!" he said quickly. "I'm just having a really bad nightmare."

"See, you can do it," Hermione encouraged him, barely containing her laughter. "Just try it. You don't say my name very often anyway. It'll be worth it if we don't fight, right?"

It seemed as if he wanted to argue but couldn't think of anything to say. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll call you by your first name . . . when I remember to." From the way he perked up, Hermione knew he would manage to "forget" often.

"Good," she said. "I suppose that's all I can ask for. Now, about your diagram of venomous tentaculas, Malfoy-"

"Wait a minute!" he interrupted, ignoring her frown. He eyed her craftily, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.. "This goes both ways. If I have to call you 'Hermione,' you have to call me 'Draco'." He smirked triumphantly, waiting for a response.

Hermione opened her mouth wordlessly. "I- what?" she stuttered.

He rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance. The little twerp was enjoying this. "What I'm saying, Hermione, is that I think you really meant to say, 'your diagram of venomous tentaculas, Draco'." He shrugged. "It's only fair."

Hermione gritted her teeth as his smirk widened. Obviously he thought she was unwilling to call him by his name, and would call the whole thing off. Well, she would show him! She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd outsmarted her!

"Yes, that's exactly exactly what I meant, Draco," Hermione said sweetly. "Are you ready to continue working?"

He glared at her, all pretense of friendliness gone. Tight-lipped and unmoving, he didn't say anything for the next ten minutes while Hermione talked about the other homework she'd given him.

"We're going over Memory Charms in Charms class," Hermione said as Malfoy continued to stare stonily at her. "It's doubtful that we'll try testing them for obvious reasons, but we're supposed to study up on them this week and write an essay." When she had listed the rest of their assignments there was silence.

"So, are we going to meet next week?" Hermione ventured, wondering if he would start miming answers at her.

There was a very contorted expression on his face that was almost comical. "Yes," he said grudgingly.

"Why don't you choose the date," Hermione suggested. "I'm free most nights."

Malfoy seemed struggling to figure out how to convey his emotions without speaking. At last, he gave up and answered. "Next Wednesday?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. Without another word, Malfoy stood up and took his essays back.

"I'll try to finish the Patronus essay," he muttered, avoiding her eyes. "Bye, Granger."

"Hermione," she reminded him.

He scowled at her, and she could almost hear his teeth grind. "Good-bye, Hermione."

"See you on Wednesday, Malfoy."

"Draco," he countered. It was one of the rare moments in which Hermione almost swore.

"Bye, Draco," she said sweetly and swept past him. Hermione didn't need to turn around to know he was smirking. Sometimes she really couldn't stand teenage boys. Even the ones that were still eleven.