Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 8

The Color Of The Ocean

"Where were you?" demanded Ginny the moment Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room. "It's been an hour!"

"She wasn't bad, was she?" Hermione asked immediately, taking the pixie and rocking her.

"Who?" Ginny said, momentarily distracted. "Oh! The pixie. No, she was fine. I was just slightly unprepared to baby-sit." She indicated the haphazard piles of her homework lying around on the table.

"I'm sorry I left her with you without warning," Hermione apologized guiltily. "I kind of forgot that I couldn't take her with me."

"Where were you anyway?" Ginny asked again.

Hermione paused, wondering if she should tell the truth. "I was- in the library," she said evasively.

"Doing what?" Ginny asked, looking skeptical. "Harry told me you guys don't have much homework this weekend."

"I had to look up something for my essay on Memory Charms," lied Hermione.

"Why couldn't it wait until tomorrow or Sunday?" Ginny persisted. Hermione opened her mouth with another excuse when a familiar, welcomed voice spoke up.

"Hermione! Here you are! We just went to the library but Madame Pince said you'd left," Ron explained, swinging through the open portrait hole with Harry following close behind. He frowned suddenly, remembering something. "She also said you were quieter than last time, and it was a good thing that first year wasn't there."

"Who was she talking about?" asked Harry, and Ron nodded his affirmation of the question.

Hermione tried not to blush as she quickly thought up a suitable answer. "That annoying first year, Conrad Johnson. The one that Professor McGonagall talked to us about. He wanted one of the books I was looking at and caused a row over it," she said smoothly, hoping she were the only one who could hear how loud her heart was beating.

"What book did he want that you were both looking at?" Harry asked incredulously. "He's only in first year."

"It was a guide to more complex potions," replied Hermione without missing a beat. "He's very precocious."

Ron grinned affectionately. "Now who does that remind me of?" They laughed, Hermione feeling more and more relaxed.

"So why were you looking for me?" she asked, leading them over to a table by the fire and trying not to think of how she'd purposely left Ginny without answering her prying questions.

Ron rolled his eyes, pulling a very battered looking Sprink from his pocket. The minute he'd dropped him on the table the pixie went scurrying over to the other end, chattering angrily and making rude gestures.

"The pipsqueak kept on tearing up our homework. We figured it could play with your pixie like Hagrid said they should."

"That'd be great!" Hermione said brightly, letting her pixie slide off her fingers and onto the table. It immediately flew over to Sprink, shouting little squeaks. Harry and Ron gave simultaneous sighs of relief, pulling our chairs and sitting down. Hermione joined them, getting out a fresh roll of parchment and a quill.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked after a moment, when she'd labeled the top: "Pixie Record."

"Keeping track of what they do, just like Hagrid said," Hermione answered vaguely, frowning at the pixies. "Do you think they're talking to each other?"

Ron shrugged, pulling a pack of Exploding Snap cards from his pocket. "How should I know? I don't speak Pixie. Hey, Harry, want to play cards?"

Hermione kept half an eye on them as they dealt out a game, keeping most of her attention fixed on the pixies. Sprink was flying in the air, still seemingly 'talking' to her pixie, (she really did need to come up with a name!) who was doing a little two-step dance on the table top. Sprink let out an annoyed squawk and zoomed higher into the air, above their heads.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, glancing at the pixie worriedly. "I think he's upset." Harry paused in their game, looking up. Sprink, seeing his opportunity, quickly darted to the other end of the common room, shrieking loudly and moving so fast he resembled a small green blur.

"Get him!" cried Harry, throwing his cards on the table and standing up.

"Who?" Ron asked, distracted. "Harry, I'd watch out if I were you. I think the cards are going to-" They exploded with a loud bang, singing Hermione's parchment and startling her pixie. With a frightened squeal she jumped into Hermione's hand, cowering.

"One for me," Ron announced, sounding pleased.

"Ron!" snapped Hermione. "You're scaring her. Not to mention half the other people in the common room. And Sprink's getting away!"

Harry ran toward the mischievous pixie, shouting apologies to the students he crashed into along the way. Sprink, making an odd sort of noise that sounded like laughter, rose higher in the air and out of Harry's reach.

"Aw, darn it," Ron muttered, getting up to go help Harry seeing as how he was the taller of the two boys. Hermione watched from the table, holding up her pixie so she could see what was going on.

"He's sticking his tongue out at me! All right, that's it. Who's got a fly swatter?" Ron demanded irritably, staring up at Sprink.

"Ron!" gasped Lavender from a table near by. Parvati looked equally shocked, and instinctively they moved their small pixie away. "You can't swat him!"

Hermione grinned affectionately as the Ron sighed impatiently. She knew he wouldn't really hurt Sprink, and she was curious to see how long it would be before either boy thought to use magic in order to get their wayward pixie down from the ceiling.

"He's not hurting anything, just let him stay up there," argued Parvati as Ron began dragging a chair into the center of the floor. "He'll come down if you leave him alone." Hermione stifled a giggle as Ron clambered determinedly onto the chair, and Harry, forgotten, stood back against the wall, grinning at his friend's antics.

"Boys!" Lavender sighed loudly, and she and Parvati got up and headed for the girls' dormitories. Ron made a grab for Sprink, nearly falling off his chair. Hermione quickly stood, afraid that if she didn't help them he would fall and hurt himself.

"Ron, stop jumping. I can get him dow-"

"Immobulus," said a bored voice from the far wall of the common room. Hermione knew instantly who it was, and when she turned to face the portrait hole, sure enough, there was Malfoy, standing with his wand raised and pointed at the pixie. When she turned back to look at Sprink, the pixie was hanging upside down in midair, looking indignant and fairly astonished. Ron snatched him up, hopping down from the chair.

There was silence for a few seconds as Ron and Malfoy looked at each with distaste. Hermione waited with baited breath, hoping this wouldn't start a fight.

"Thanks," said Ron at last, sounding noticeably annoyed that he was thanking the 'rude first year.' "How did you know that spell?"

Malfoy looked very much as if he wanted to say something snide, but his eyes flickered over to Hermione briefly, and he gave a small shrug. "Read it in a spell book." Ron frowned, about to ask more, but Hermione cut him off.

"Thanks for getting Sprink, Conrad." She tried to smile. "He's not the most well-behaved pixie."

He raised an eyebrow, and Hermione wondered if Harry and Ron could see the resemblance between Conrad's appearance and the real Draco Malfoy.

"Obviously."

"Harry, do you want to play another game of Exploding Snap?" Ron said loudly, clearly bothered by the fact that Conrad was in the room.

"Sure," Harry replied. He looked back once on his way to the table, and it seemed as if he were trying to figure something out, but he didn't say anything about it when all three were seated.

"Why did Hagrid have to give us the bad pixie?" Ron complained, setting Sprink unceremoniously back on the table. The pixie gave a small twitch, obviously beginning to unfreeze.

"He's not bad, Ron," Hermione protested, gazing sympathetically at Sprink. "He's just- mischievous."

"Yes, Ron, you'd think you'd be used to it considering you grew up with Fred and George," teased Harry, grinning. Ron rolled his eyes, dealing out the cards.

There was a scraping noise from behind them as Malfoy sat at the table behind them and noisily got out his books. Hermione wished she were close enough to kick him; if he didn't want to be found out, why was he making it so difficult?

"What is he doing here?" Ron hissed, eyeing Malfoy's back angrily.

"Ron!" whispered Hermione, hoping Malfoy hadn't heard. "He has every right to be in the common room." She almost added 'he's a Gryffindor,' but thought better of it. Even for the sake of keeping up pretenses, Hermione wasn't about to call Malfoy a Gryffindor.

"Yes, but why next to us?" Ron whined petulantly, for once speaking softly.

"Let's just play. Maybe he'll leave," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Hermione nodded, though she was positive Malfoy was deliberately sitting behind them so he could eavesdrop. There were plenty of other empty tables in the common room; the fact that he was sitting near them could not be a coincidence.

"I need a name for my pixie," Hermione mused broodingly, letting the tip of her quill's feather tickle her chin.

"You heard what Hagrid said, Hermione," Ron said absent-mindedly, glaring at his cards. "If you name it you'll get attached to it."

"For once I agree," added Harry, cringing as she frowned at him. "We're not keeping the pixies forever."

"But Sprink has a name- what if you get attached to him?" Hermione argued.

Ron snorted, sharing a look with Harry. "Fat chance of that."

Sprink, as if in agreement, climbed huffily onto Hermione's ink bottle and crossed his arms. Hermione sighed and lay down her quill, unable to get to her ink and not in the mood to start a fight with a five-inch high creature that resembled a muggle toy.

"We're not saying that you can't name it, Hermione," amended Harry apologetically, seeing her expression. "We just also think that you should-er-take what Hagrid said into consideration."

"I will," Hermione said reluctantly. "But it feels strange not being able to call her something. Besides, I already think she's perfectly adorable. There's not much of a risk of me getting more attached."

"That's what Hagrid's worried about," whispered Ron to Harry. Hermione, blushing fiercely, pretended she hadn't heard.

"So, can you think of any names?" she asked. A rustle of paper from the table next to theirs caught her attention, and she was jolted back to a feeling of insecurity, acutely aware of the fact that Malfoy was listening to every word they said.

"Snap?" suggested Ron, looking to his cards for inspiration.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, glancing carefully at her pixie. "No. It's too masculine."

"'Lilac'? 'Angel'? 'Caramel'?" Harry rattled off, trying to think of all the feminine names he could.

Hermione grinned. "She's not a cat! And she's not purple either!"

"And pixies are most definitely not angels," Ron grumbled under his breath.

"At least ours isn't," added Harry, narrowing his eyes at Sprink.

"'Moss'? 'Seaweed'? Something green?" said Ron, eyeing the pixie's skin tone. "There aren't many complimentary names for mold green if we're going for a color scheme."

"She isn't mold green!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked, and even her pixie looked offended, rising to Ron's nose level and squeaking angrily at him.

"Hermione, get her away from me!" panicked the redhead, spilling his cards onto the table and gesturing wildly for Harry not to look. "You know, if I'm going to be insulted I'd least like to understand it!"

"I'd say she's more of an emerald green," said Hermione, saving her pixie from Ron (or perhaps it was the other way round).

"Well, then go with 'Emerald,'" suggested Harry, putting down his own hand so Ron could re-deal.

"I like the ocean theme Ron had going," Hermione replied. "But not seaweed. Something else."

"Brine, Seahorse, Anemone, Jelly, Pearl, Pirate, Storm, Ariel," Harry said immediately, listing every sea-related name he could think of. He turned red as both Ron and Hermione stared at him for the last possible name.

"It's a muggle movie," he muttered, and Hermione laughed, recalling Disney's "The Little Mermaid."

"Right," said Ron blankly. "If you say so, Harry."

"None of those names fit her," sighed Hermione, staring dejectedly at her quiet pixie. "Maybe-"

"What about 'Aqua'?" interrupted a voice from behind them.

"Who asked y-" started Ron, but Hermione reached over and clamped a hand over his mouth, stifling his protests. Harry opened his mouth, perhaps to say the same thing, but thought better of it, eyeing Hermione's hands nervously.

"What did you say, Conrad?" asked Hermione, careful not to slip and call him by his real name

Malfoy sent an amused glance at the indignant Ron before answering. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation." He ignored Hermione as she coughed into her hand, trying to hide a chuckle.

"Oceans are generally aqua colored." He shrugged, the merest traces of a smile hovering on his lips. "And it's definitely feminine."

"Aqua," breathed Hermione, tasting the word and experimenting with it. She glanced down at her pixie, smiling as the little creature looked back at her, it's big black eyes wide.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked the pixie, knowing she wouldn't get an answer. She smiled, looking up and meeting Malfoy's eyes. Noticing her gaze, he turned pink, staring at her uncertainly. For a minute there was silence while Hermione contemplated not only the possible name, but also the fact that Malfoy had suggested it.

"You might want to let go of Weasley," said Malfoy at last, his eyes flickering back to Ron, who was scuffling at her unmoving hand. "I think you're suffocating him."

Hermione started, lowering her hand form Ron's face. Immediately the redhead began wiping his mouth furiously, scowling at her.

"What was that for?" he demanded. "You didn't have to- ow!" He turned to glare at Harry, who was trying to look innocent as he stared around the room. Hermione smothered a laugh; at least one of her friends knew when to stop talking.

"I think 'Aqua's' a good name for her," Hermione said. "Thanks." She blushed, feeling decidedly odd that she had just thanked Malfoy. Even though she had done it before, this time she was thanking him because he'd done something truly helpful for her. Malfoy himself had a strange look on his face, and when he glanced at her, there was curiosity instead of distaste.

"You're welcome."

Ron snorted, muttering something that sounded extremely like 'idiotic git.' Harry didn't say anything to him, just giving him another glance before turning to Hermione.

"Aqua's a good name. It suits her," he said. "I think Hagrid will like it." He smiled at Hermione and then (at least judging by a loud, indignant noise from Ron) kicked the redhead again.

"Yeah, I like it, too," Ron said grudgingly, obviously annoyed that Conrad had come up with the name. Hermione nodded her approval, happy she'd finally found a name for her pixie. She put Aqua down, pulled her Pixie Record closer to her, and plucked Sprink unceremoniously off of her inkpot, depositing him on the table. When Hermione turned back to Malfoy, she saw that he looked almost disappointed, staring glumly at their pixies. Hermione was just as amazed at herself as Harry and Ron were at the next words that popped out of her mouth.

"Do you want to come-" She paused. Considering that he was really a sixteen year-old boy, she didn't really think 'play' was the right word to use. "Watch the pixies?" Malfoy was still for a minute, glancing warily from her, to Harry and Ron, to the pixies.

"I- I guess so," he said, scooting his chair closer by a couple of inches. Hermione moved her own chair over to accommodate him, glancing nervously at Harry and Ron. Both boys were gaping at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Hermione," said Ron faintly, staring at Malfoy from the corner of his eye. For once, he didn't need a kick from Harry to shut up, and even if he had, his best friend looked too astonished to give him one.

"You can hold Aqua," Hermione told Malfoy. "And Sprink. If that's ok with Harry and Ron."

"F-fine by us," stammered Harry. Malfoy smirked at them, but fortunately neither of them saw as they were both still staring at Hermione. He picked up Aqua, acting uncharacteristically gentle with her. The pixie walked cautiously across his palm and then down his arm, letting out little squeals of laughter as she slipped on his robes. Hermione could tell from the way he was gritting his teeth that Malfoy was ticklish.

"Hermione, can we speak to you for a minute?" Ron asked through clenched teeth, sending glares in Malfoy's direction. "Alone?"

Hermione nodded guiltily, standing up. Malfoy didn't even seem to notice as all three left the table, going to an empty corner in the common room.

"Why did you invite him over?" Ron hissed the moment they were out of earshot. "There's something wrong with him! He called you a you-know-what, it's obvious he doesn't like Harry or me, and you said that you were fighting with him in the library! Why the heck are you suddenly acting friendly towards him?"

"He was all alone, Ron," pleaded Hermione, wincing at all of 'Conrad's' misdemeanor's Ron threw her way. "And you could tell he really liked the pixies. What's wrong if he plays with them??

"This isn't about the pixies, Hermione," said Harry impatiently. "Frankly, neither of us cares who touches Sprink, provided they don't hurt him. It's just odd that you keep on sticking up for this prat, considering you have no reason to like him."

"And did you have to invite him over when we were hanging out?" Ron whined. "He's in first year, and he hates us!"

"He doesn't hate us!" argued Hermione, but inside she wondered if this was true. Malfoy would probably always despise Harry and Ron, but did he still detest her after all she'd done to help him? If he did it was very ungrateful of him. Hermione flushed, trying to imagine what life would be like if Malfoy returned to normal. Would he still call her a mudblood and insult her at every chance? Certainly, she had no intention of becoming friends with Draco Malfoy, but it would be most unjust if he continued to taunt her for the rest of her life.

"Hermione? Are you listening?" Ron demanded impatiently.

Hermione started, blushing as Harry and Ron stared at her reproachfully. "Sorry. What did you say?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "We just want to know what's going on with Conrad."

"I'm really trying to be nice to him," Hermione said honestly. "I don't really care if he likes me, but I do want him to like Hogwarts. And I want him to know that Gryffindor is a great House with great people in it." She felt guilty as Harry smiled, and Ron conceded by nodding. Since when had it become so easy for her to lie through her teeth to her best friends?

"It's a shame there aren't more people at Hogwarts like you, Hermione," Harry said, grinning at her. "You're always trying to help someone, even if that person is an annoying git not worth your time." Hermione couldn't resist from giving Harry a big hug, catching him by surprise. She didn't see the sudden look of panic and confusion in his eyes, but Ron did and was laughing silently at Harry's bemused state.

"Thanks for understanding," Hermione whispered, and then gave Ron a small, and, to his great relief, less enthusiastic hug. She led the way back to their table just in time to see Malfoy dip a finger into her inkpot.

"What are you doing?" she asked automatically, puzzlement knitting her brows together. Had Malfoy finally lost it, succumbing to a brain meltdown in his new state?

Malfoy looked up in surprise, seeming to have forgotten that they were coming back. "I'm showing them how to draw," he said mildly, as if it was perfectly obvious and not the least bit out of the ordinary.

"With your fingers?" Ron asked sarcastically, eyeing his ink-stained fingertips.

"Can pixies hold quills?" Malfoy retorted instantly, turning back to the table. Hermione's eyes opened wide as Aqua flew to the ink bottle, dipping her arm into it and giggling. Even Sprink was dancing around a blank sheet of parchment, drawing lines and squiggles with his fingers. Aqua joined him, drawing a circle and wavy lines until she had completed a sun.

Hermione's mouth involuntarily fell open as she realized that Malfoy had taught the pixies how to draw. For some reason, this made her the tiniest bit jealous. After all, Aqua really was her charge, and Malfoy had taught her something first! As if on cue, he turned to see Hermione's reaction. There was no expression on his face as he surveyed her mingled feelings of shock, envy, and admiration.

Not to be outdone, Hermione dipped her quill in the ink and traced her hand for the pixies to see. Aqua immediately started clamoring and lay down so Hermione could trace her body shape on the paper. Sprink, however, had returned to the inkpot and covered his feet instead of his hands. The pixie gave uproarious chuckles as it ran around the parchment, leaving numerous black footprints.

"See?" Hermione whispered to the boys behind her, hoping Malfoy couldn't hear her. "He's keeping them occupied." She heard Ron shift restlessly behind her and knew that even though he still couldn't stand Conrad, he agreed with her.

"I guess he's not as bad as before," Harry admitted grudgingly, his voice so low she could barely hear him.

Hermione watched Malfoy tickle Aqua on the tummy, and she could see a smile stretching across his face. She was glad that the pixies had taken his mind off of his problems. Even Sprink seemed to have calmed down under Malfoy's care, and she couldn't help but feel sad he was being denied the privilege of taking care of his own pixie. It was apparent that he would have been very good at it.

As Harry and Ron went around to the other side of the table, still looking at him warily, Malfoy moved his head the slightest inch and whispered, "Thanks." The best thing was, Hermione knew he truly meant it.

* * *

The minute Harry entered the Transfiguration classroom he knew that either something drastic was about to happen or something bad already had. As it turned out, it was a little of both.

"Put away your parchment and quills," said Professor McGonagall briskly the second all her students were in their seats. "All you need is your wands." She considered for a minute, letting not one trace of her thoughts stray onto her face. "You might want to have your notes out as well, I suppose."

Harry traded nervous glances with Ron, but when he turned to Hermione she appeared intrigued. His stomach fell another notch. Anything that made Hermione wear her excited, can't-wait-to-prove-herself expression could not bode well for him and Ron. It meant they would be practicing a new spell, and judging from the look on his best friend's face, she knew exactly what they were doing.

"Today, we will begin transfiguring fellow classmates," began Professor McGonagall, and was then interrupted by a chaotic chorus of shouts from the students.

"We're transfiguring each other?" cried Dean in panic, edging rapidly toward the door.

"I think I'm going to be sick," whimpered Neville, and he indeed looked as if he might vomit. For once, Parvati and Lavender were mute, their eyes wide as they stared in shock at their teacher.

Professor McGonagall simply 'tsked,' moving quickly from behind her desk to the other side of the room and shutting the door with a loud bang, lest any of her students tried to make a run for it.

"Think she'll know if I use a Blood Blisterpod?" Ron asked weakly, his face unusually pale. "Fred and George gave me a whole case of Skiving Snackboxes as a going away present. It's not as good as some of the others, 'cause you get blood everywhere, but it's better than nothing."

"Dunno. As long as we don't use any Fainting Fancies . . . got one for me?" whispered Harry hopefully, ignoring Hermione's reproving glance.

"Yeah, they're in our dormitory, though. I'll tell McGonagall that I forgot my notes . . ."

When he raised his hand, however, Professor McGonagall waved aside his request to leave impatiently before fixing him with a scrutinizing stare.

"Whatever your conniving older brothers gave you over the summer, do not even think of using it in my class or you may find yourself to be the first student transfigured."

Ron turned bright red as loud titters came from around the room, muttering something about not knowing what she was talking about. Professor McGonagall just gave him a patronizing stare before turning back to the class.

"Generally it is best in human transfiguration to start with changing people into monkeys as this species has a very small distinction in DNA from humans. However, having done this in previous years, we know from experience-" was Professor McGonagall actually blushing?- "that it is best not to start out with so wild an, ahem, animal." Her tone was definitely higher than normal, and she certainly appeared uncomfortable as the Gryffindors exchanged wary looks.

"If we could have one or two students who feel confident enough to perform this tricky transfiguration, our lesson will progress from there." She smiled slightly, and Harry got the vague feeling she was enjoying this. "Perhaps by the end of class you will all have moved onto to one of the more simplistic stages of human transfiguration. Now, any volunteers?"

"Please, please, please don't say anything, Hermione," prayed Ron, his eyes closed, and his skin an unhealthy grayish color.

"What's wrong with Hermio-" Harry began, when to Ron's great dismay, and no one's surprise, Hermione raised her hand, looking as if Christmas had come early.

"Miss Granger," nodded Professor McGonagall, giving her a warm smile of approval and motioning her to the front of the class.

"Oh no," Ron moaned.

"What?" Harry hissed impatiently, anxious not to miss anything.

"Well, if Hermione's doing the spell, you know who's going to be her partner, don't you?"

It took Harry a moment for Ron's words to sink in, but when they did he thought he would have fainted dead away if he hadn't been sitting down already.

"This is not good," Harry whispered feverishly as Professor McGonagall surveyed the classroom.

"All right, Miss Granger, please choose a partner. For this lesson we will be trying for large animals that are closer to the student's body weight and density."

Hermione nodded, her eyes roving the rows of students before coming to rest on Harry and Ron. She gave them a guilty, apologetic look before speaking.

"Um, Ron . . ." Harry couldn't help but give a sigh of relief at Ron's name being called instead of his. When he looked over at his best friend, though, he had turned a sickly shade of green that went less than satisfactorily with his red hair and freckles.

"I'm gonna' kill her," whispered Ron over and over as he got up, shaking. He walked slowly to the front of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. Most of the other Gryffindors looked at him sympathetically, but a few, like Seamus and Dean, were exchanging evil looks reminiscent of the Weasley twins.

"What is Mum going to say?" Ron groaned, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "And Fred and George . . ."

"I'm sure they'll think it very honorable of you, Weasley," said Professor McGongall impatiently, giving him an indifferent look up and down. "I suggest you try a dog, Miss Granger. Undoubtedly that would give you the best results."

Ron looked at is he wanted to protest, but didn't. Harry had a strong feeling that if he did open his mouth to speak, more than just words might come out.

"Do you remember the incantations, Miss Granger? Weasley, do sit down, I'm sure Potter won't be very willing to take your place if you need to be sent to the hospital wing." There were a few laughs and glances in Harry's general direction as Professor McGonagall conjured a chair. Ron immediately slumped over in it, looking as if he were waiting to be sent to the executioner's room.

Hermione blushed furiously at Professor McGongall's comment, as did Harry, and both avoided the other's eyes. It was discomforting to know that it was no secret to anyone, including the teacher, whom Hermione would be more comfortable practicing spells on.

"Er, is a dog ok with you, Ron?" asked Hermione gently, bending down next to him.

Ron slowly opened one eye. "Provided it doesn't hurt, Hermione, I don't care what it is. Just know that you are going to suffer dire consequences later." There were louder laughs this time, and Hermione turned even redder. Harry, while he felt extremely sorry for Ron, thought that was a bit unfair of him. Hermione wanted so desperately to prove she could do the spell, and yet it meant transfiguring her best friends. If it had been anybody else, Harry was sure Ron would have refused to go first.

"Ready, Miss Granger?" asked Professor McGonagall in a quiet, yet clear voice.

Hermione nodded determinedly, and Ron gave a small, dramatic sigh.

"On the count of three, then. One. Two. Three."

"Acelias Canientos," Hermione cried, flourishing her wand in the air and then bringing it slashing down.

Harry didn't know what would happen to Ron, but whatever he did expect it was nothing compared to what did happen. Instead of acting like a dying hero or keeling over in pain, a peaceful expression drifted over Ron's face and he fell into a stupor. As one, the Gryffindors leaned closer to their desks, trying to catch glimpses of what was happening at the front.

At first it seemed as if the spell had flopped. After a few seconds Hermione's face fell, and Professor McGonagall gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"It's ok, dear, human transfiguration is advanced magic, and I would be pleased if just a minor change occurred-"

"Look!" squealed Lavender, pointing at Ron. Harry, who had been mouthing 'I'm sorry' to Hermione, snapped back to Ron. His eyes opened wide as he saw the effect s of Hermione's spell.

Ron seemed to have sprouted little brown fuzz all over his face and lower arms. He stirred restlessly, and as he shifted the class could see his profile. His nose was definitely less prominent and seemed to slope down towards his mouth. There were a few snickers around the classroom as Ron gave a gentle snore. Even Harry couldn't resist smiling, and Hermione was positively beaming.

"Excellent," complimented Professor McGonagall repeatedly, in what could only be described as gushing. "That is extraordinary for a first time, Miss Granger. 10 points to Gryffindor."

She went on to point out the little patches of dark fur on Ron's hands and the little silver points extending from each finger which were, supposedly, his "claws." By the time she had finished pointing out the various visible changes on Ron, Dean's face was bright red with contained laughter, and Seamus had to keep on ducking under the table for a loud guffaw. Lavender and Parvati were giggling ceaselessly at their table, and even Neville had relaxed some, grinning at Ron.

"Now, really," said Professor McGonagall crossly when she noticed her class's amusement. "It's nothing to laugh about! I'm sure none of you could have done what Miss Granger just did."

"He's still asleep!" said Seamus incredulously, peering closely at Ron in wonder. "What's the point of being transfigured if you're asleep?"

Professor McGonagall looked at him reproachfully. "Generally, unconsciousness is not a side effect of transfiguration. Undoubtedly, we would be able to wake him up if the need was called for, however, I see no need for him to be awake. In fact, Miss Granger, if you would kindly perform the counter-spell? I'm sure the poor boy will be eager to know what's been going on."

"Undoubtedly!" mocked Seamus in imitation, but, fortunately for him, not loud enough for Professor McGonagall to hear.

"Right," said Hermione, looking nervous. Her eyes roved the classroom until they found Harry's. He smiled at her, hoping she'd be able to reverse the spell without McGonagall's help.

Hermione took a deep breath, blinked, and then spoke. "Finite Incantatem." Like before, there was no visible sign of change for a few moments, and then Ron started to return to normal.

"Oh, man," Dean complained quietly. "I was hoping he'd wake up."

"Wh- what happened?" asked Ron stupidly, jerking awake as the last bit of dark fur disappeared from his face. He glanced around the room, confused at their gleeful expressions.

"Miss Granger succeeded in partway transfiguring you into a dog," explained Professor McGongall, taking pity on him, and giving him one of her rare smiles.

"She did?" said Ron blankly. He felt his face for a minute before looking around at the class furiously, obviously expecting a joke.

"Who's got a mirror?"

"I do!" exclaimed Lavender instantly, burrowing deep in her bag. After a moment of searching she handed Ron a little compact. He studied himself for a minute in it, frowning.

"I don't see anything."

"You were asleep!" exploded Seamus, unable to keep it in any longer. "You were out like a light the moment she said the spell!" Ron looked to Hermione for verification, and she turned bright red, nodding sheepishly. Next Ron looked to Harry, almost desperately.

"You mean, she turned me into a dog, and I fell asleep?" he demanded, scandalized. The expression on his face was priceless, and Harry didn't trust himself not to laugh if he opened his mouth. Instead, he just nodded.

"It wasn't a complete transformation," said Professor McGongall hurriedly. "Just a bit of fur hear and there."

"A bit of fur?" Ron said, sounding faint again.

"I'm sure Miss Granger would be more than willing to try the spell again if you'd like proof," said Professor McGongall simply, and Harry was amazed to see the mischievous expression on her face.

"That's fine, I believe you," Ron said hurriedly. "Can I go back to my seat now, please?"

"Would you like the hospital wing instead, Mister Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked, sounding worried at his state.

Ron violently shook his head. "N-no, I'll be fine." He stumbled back to his seat next to Harry, pale and withdrawn. He just shook his head again when Harry tried to talk to him, remaining mute until at last Harry was forced to give up.

"I think we'll end the lesson here today," said Professor McGongall, a strange expression on her face. She, too, looked sorry for Ron. "After all, class ends in ten minutes anyway. Mister Weasley, take ten points to Gryffindor for letting Miss Granger practice on you." After instructing them to write an essay on what kind of transfigurations an amateur should start out with, she waved them on their way.

Excited, the Gryffindors stood, talking happily about their unexpected break as they made their way to the doorway.

"Great going, Ron," congratulated Seamus, clapping him on the back before heading to lunch with Dean.

"If it were me I would've refused," said Lavender sympathetically. Ron didn't say anything as they walked towards the Great Hall. At the sight of Ginny and the other Gryffindor sixth years laughing, he turned straight around and headed back the way they'd come.

"Ron," said Hermione in pleading tones, grabbing his arm. "Where are you going? Don't you want to hang out in the Great Hall with us? Or we can grab a snack from the kitchens?"

Ron shook his head, looking past her stonily. "I'm not hungry." He shook her off, walking quickly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "I'll see you at lunch. Enjoy Potions."

Harry and Hermione watched helplessly as he stormed off, neither of them able to think of a convincing argument. Finally Hermione turned to Harry, tears in her eyes.

"I wasn't trying to pick on him," she said earnestly, her eyes red. "I just didn't want to choose someone like Seamus or Parvati. I thought he'd understand."

"I think he does," Harry told her, although inside he wasn't so sure it was the truth. "He'll be ok in a few hours. It's just the side effects of being transfigured."

Hermione nodded hopefully. Harry led her into the Great Hall, making sure they sat down farther away from the other chattering sixth years. As other students began to flow into the corridors, he didn't notice the small boy with brown hair standing at the entrance to the Great Hall. Nor did he notice the funny look the boy was giving them.

"Ron's not mad at you, Hermione," Harry reassured her over and over as she sat silently, turning one of her quills over in her hands. "He'll be ok in a few hours. You'll see."

* * *

Potions was a dismal affair, even by Harry's standards. Snape kept giving them subtle reminders that they would be making Love Potions in October. He seemed to relish the fact that the thought was panicking a good half of the class.

"Great, one more thing for Ron to be mad at me about," Hermione said grumpily as they left the classroom to go to lunch.

"Just don't tell him," replied Harry irritably. Snape had taken away ten points from Gryffindor during Double Potions: five because several of the Slytherins had been jeering about the Transfiguration class, (the story had already spread like wildfire through the sixth years) and Harry had lost his temper; Snape took away the other five points when he claimed Harry knocked over a beaker of salamander blood onto his desk.

Ron wasn't at lunch, though, and when questioned Neville told them that he had gone down to the kitchens during his free period and gotten something to eat.

"Where is he now?" Hermione asked anxiously, already rising from the table. "I need to talk to him."

"He's in the boys' dormitories," Neville told them nervously. "He would've locked the door if Seamus and Dean hadn't needed to get some of their books."

"Oh, why didn't I pick you instead, Harry?" Hermione moaned, covering her face. Harry didn't answer; he had a strong feeling that he would have been no more level-headed about this than Ron was being, but wasn't quite sure how to tell Hermione this.

"He's not really mad," Ginny assured Hermione. "I mean, he's a little mad, I suppose, but he won't stay that way."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked hopefully. "You should know."

"What've I been telling you the last two hours?" Harry demanded indignantly. "Why are you listening to Ginny?"

"Because she's his sister," Hermione answered without missing a beat. "Do you think I should talk to him? I can get in the boys' dormitories."

Ginny shrugged. "He'll talk to you eventually about it." She grinned mischievously. "Only I would wait until you're in the common room. He's still quite sore about the fact that he can't get into the girls' dormitories but you can get into his. He was ranting about it all summer long."

Hermione chose not to reply to this, picking at her food glumly. Finally she pushed it away and stood up. "I'm not hungry."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as she picked up her bag.

"I left Aqua in my dormitory this morning. She was still sleeping when I had to leave. I guess I'll got make sure she's not destroyed anything," Hermione said dejectedly. Harry watched her leave, hoping Ron would've remembered to check up on Sprink.

* * *

"Are you still mad at Hermione?" Harry asked quietly that evening. He sat down next to Ron at a table near the back of the common room. He had immediately spotted the redhead after dinner when he'd returned to Gryffindor common room. Ron, hunched over and brooding alone at his table, wasn't hard to miss.

"I guess not," he said after a moment. Then, "I don't know if I ever really was." He paused, searching for the right words. "I understand why she chose me, but- it was really embarrassing to wake up and have everyone tell you that you were transfigured in your sleep." He shrugged. "And I suppose I thought it was her fault at first."

Harry waited a beat, to see if he was finished speaking. "Hermione's really upset that you're not speaking to her. She told me she messed up a question in Arithmancy today." He tried to grin. "When has that ever happened?"

Ron looked the tiniest bit ashamed. "Where is she?"

"She was in the girls' bathroom, when I left dinner."

Ron looked alarmed. "She wasn't crying was she?" He looked suspicious for a second. "There isn't another troll around, is there?"

Harry chuckled weakly. "Hope not. I suppose I could ask Lavender to go see if Hermione's ok. Are you going to talk to her?"

Ron nodded without hesitation. "Yeah."

Harry turned around to go in search of Lavender or Parvati when the Fat Lady's portrait opened and in came Hermione. She looked around the common room for a moment before seeing them. Harry saw her visibly gulp before walking hesitantly over to join them.

"Ron?" she asked nervously. "Are you . . . talking?"

"Well, I'm not barking," Ron said, attempting at a feeble joke.

Hermione tried to smile. "That's good. It's generally easier to understand you when you're not barking- I mean- oh, Ron, I'm really sorry!" she wailed. Harry stood up quickly so she could sit in his seat.

"I wasn't trying to be mean or make fun of you! I just figured you might like it instead of Harry-"

"What?" Harry interrupted. "First off, why would he like it in the first place, and second, why more than me?"

Hermione's opened wide. "I didn't really mean it," she said miserably. "I wasn't even thinking when I said that."

"But why?" repeated Harry, frowning at her.

Hermione blushed. "It's from last year. At Christmas. When you- I mean, the snake . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she stared at the ground, very embarrassed.

Harry was starting to get angry. "I didn't bite Mr Weasley," he said in a low voice, so even Ron leaned forward, looking interested.

Hermione bit her lip. "I know you didn't. But what I'm saying is, you knew what it was like to be transfigured. Or at least, you felt like the snake, didn't you?"

"I wasn't transfigured," Harry said hotly. "And I wasn't the snake."

Hermione looked as if she dearly wished she hadn't said anything. " I know that, Harry! It's just that it was like you were transfigured. You certainly didn't feel human!" Harry glowered at her, and Hermione sighed.

"Look, Harry, I'm sorry. I feel awful already for choosing Ron, and I honestly didn't mean to get you mad. And I thought Ron might like to go first, anyway."

"What's so great about being the first person in your class to be transfigured?" Ron asked blankly.

Hermione blinked. "Well, I think it would've been interesting. You could explore a whole new body, and see Hogwarts in a new light!"

"Yes, because I really wanted to go sniffing around the kitchens for a doggy biscuit," Ron said sarcastically. "I've got an idea! How about you do that when I choose you to be my partner?"

Hermione said something in return, but Harry didn't hear her. He was too busy thinking of what she'd said. He shouldn't be mad, he told himself. After all, Hermione hadn't meant to imply anything, and he had been the one who'd asked for clarification. Harry shook himself, trying to shut out the memory of the long corridor, and the innocent man with red hair at the end of it. He didn't want to be reminded of the fangs that had sank into Mr. Weasley, or the blood that he'd tasted. In fact, Harry didn't want to think of anything connected with fifth year. Except for maybe when he'd spent time with Sirius during the summer before it started. He never wanted to forget the time he'd spent with his godfather, especially since he would have no new memories anytime soon . . .

"How was Sprink?" Hermione asked Ron brightly, as she noticed the sullen pixie sitting on the table. She held up Aqua, who had been eating crackers left over from dinner.

Ron glared at the pixie. "He had practically destroyed the boys' dormitories when I got there after Transfiguration."

"What happened?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Sprink slashed all the pillows," Ron continued angrily, "tore the curtains from the beds, and ripped pages out of my copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. Some house-elves are up there now fixing things."

"He did what?" Harry yelped, coming out of his trance.

Ron shook his head in disgust at the pixie. "I yelled at him, believe me. That's why he's not talking to anyone now."

"Talking?" Hermione asked in confusion, frowning slightly.

"Squeaking," Ron clarified. "Making noise." He perked up. "Actually, maybe that's why I've been able to work on my essay!"

"He better not have touched my Firebolt," Harry said heavily, his mind still on other things.

"He didn't open any trunks," Ron added. "But I'm sure he tried. There were scratch marks all up and down Dean's trunk. Not that I'm telling him where they came from," Ron said hurriedly, ignoring the disapproving look on Hermione's face.

"What essay are you doing?" Harry asked, leaning over. Ron looked down, turned fiery red, and snatched the parchment away.

"N-no essay," he stuttered. "I forgot. I finished it. This is just scrap."

"There's something written on it," said Hermione, trying to grab the parchment.

Ron made to throw it in the fire. "It's nothing. Just a few scribbles."

"Accio, parchment," Harry said, pointing his wand at the paper. Ron gave an exclamation of surprise as it zoomed out of his hand and into Harry's.

"Don't look!" Ron ordered, as Hermione said at the same time, "What's it say?"

Harry stared in disbelief at the parchment. "You drew hearts all over your paper?" he asked, brandishing the evidence.

Ron winced. "Not so loud!"

"Hearts?" asked Hermione incredulously, snatching it out of Harry's hand and studying it, as if sure it were fake. "Since when do boys draw hearts?"

"Well," said Harry, grinning. "I would think that it means there's a certain girl somewhere . . ."

"Harry!" yelped Ron in a strangled voice. He jerked the parchment out of Hermione's hand and threw it in the fire before they could protest.

"What'd you do that for? I hadn't read the initials yet!" Hermione demanded, watching the edges turn black and burn. "And whom do you like?"

"No one!" Ron said furiously. "Absolutely no one!"

"Why are you drawing hearts, then?" Hermione asked reasonably. "I mean, it's only logical."

"Who is it, mate?" asked Harry again. "We swear we won't tell. You two knew when I liked Cho!"

Ron turned bright red. "Just drop it," he said through clenched teeth.

"I saw you drawing hearts in Transfiguration, too," Harry exclaimed, snapping his fingers as he remembered the class. "I forgot to ask you about it."

"Good," said Ron evenly. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got homework to do."

"I thought you finished the essay," began Hermione, but stopped when Harry nudged her foot under the table. She closed her mouth, looking disappointed and still extremely curious.

Harry stared suspiciously at Ron as the redhead got out some more parchment, not looking at either of them. He had the same feeling he'd had about Hermione at the beginning of the year. Ron wasn't telling him something. Harry leaned back, still studying his friend. He grinned, catching Hermione's eye, and she smiled back. Ron obviously wouldn't be telling them who his crush was anytime soon, but that didn't mean there weren't other ways to find out, though . . .

* * *

Hermione was more than a little surprised that when she showed up at the library on Wednesday night, Malfoy was already there waiting.

"You're early," she remarked, glancing at her watch to make sure she hadn't misread the time.

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. "I wasn't really busy. Not like I had Quidditch practice," he said bitterly.

"You mean you decided to be on time for once," Hermione commented, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "It's a welcome change."

He gave her a resentful glare. "Don't expect it to become a habit."

"And that, dear Slytherin, is called a cliché," said Hermione sweetly, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard. "Shall we go into the library, or was there some specific reason you were waiting in the hallway?"

"Well, the fact that Madame Pince would still like my head on a platter deterred me ever so slightly," sniped Malfoy, hanging back as Hermione walked to the library entrance. "Besides, someone might see us coming in together . . ."

Hermione snorted, something she hardly ever did. "Oh, please, Malfoy. We're nowhere near the Astronomy Tower, and I highly doubt anyone would think such a disturbing thing considering our appeared difference in ages."

Malfoy looked nothing short of revolted, but chose most wisely not to comment. "I'm very glad you've decided to drop the name thing," he said, peering into the library nervously.

Hermione paused. "No, actually I forgot." She gave him a brilliant, if somewhat smug smile. "Thank you for reminding me, Draco."

"I just had to say that," he mumbled, in a barely audible tone, looking extremely annoyed at himself.

"No one is coming, and everyone in the library is doing there work, which is what we should be doing, too, may I remind you," Hermione said, resisting the urge to physically yank him forward. "Now, let's go!"

Malfoy grumbled but followed her in, looking cautiously for Madame Pince. Hermione rolled her eyes, leading him briskly to the table they'd used the last time. It was in a quiet, secluded area of the library, far from prying eyes and peeping toms. Hermione sat down, gesturing for Malfoy to do the same. He did, still eying the other students warily.

"Are you sure no one can see us?" he hissed.

"If they can, they're not looking," said Hermione impatiently. "They have much more important things to pay attention to. Besides, even if they did notice us, they would just think an older student was tutoring one of the younger students."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Malfoy said grumpily.

Hermione sniffed. "Considering you look nothing like yourself, I don't think it'll tarnish your reputation to be seen with me." She frowned. "Actually I don't really want to be seen with you. Harry and Ron already think something strange is gong on."

"Potter's too suspicious for his own good, and you shouldn't be worried about Weasley as he's too thick to know the sky's blue," Malfoy informed her.

"Harry has every right to be suspicious considering all the death plots he's had to put with. And I'll have you know Ron is not thick!" She refrained from smirking. "Haven't you been in the Great Hall today? It's raining."

"Well, it's good to know we have a general consensus over how wonderful and unspoiled my reputation is," he said in retaliation, referring aback to her earlier comment.

"Haven't you ever heard of sarcasm?" Hermione muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" Hermione smiled as sweetly as she could in the circumstances (it was rather hard to look pleasant when you were itching to throttle the person you were speaking to).

"How's Aqua?" Malfoy asked to change the subject.

Hermione was silent in shock for a moment. Had Malfoy just asked about the wellbeing of someone other than himself?

"She's fine," Hermione managed, and was more amazed to see that Malfoy looked genuinely happy that her pixie was doing well. "I found another baby-sitter. Ron and Harry are at Quidditch practice, and I didn't want to leave her with Ginny again."

Malfoy frowned. "Who's Ginny?"

So much for a compassionate Malfoy who paid attention to the world around him.

"Ron's younger sister," Hermione told him. "She was the Seeker for Gryffindor last year after someone-" she gave a very fake cough- "got Harry kicked off the team." Malfoy looked almost proud, and not the least bit abashed. Hermione nearly kicked him.

"She was also in Umbridge's office with us last year, when certain people-" she coughed again- "were holding us captive," Hermione added when Malfoy still had a blank look on his face when it came to Ginny.

Malfoy frowned, a disgusted look on his face. "You mean the one who did the Bat-Bogey Hex?"

Hermione smiled. "I still can't believe I missed that."

"I don't like her," Malfoy said, crossing his arms. "Even though she does have a certain amount of talent considering she's a Weasley," he added thoughtfully.

This time Hermione did kick him.

"What was that for?" he demanded angrily after leaping a foot in his chair and clutching his bruised shin.

"Don't insult Ron or his family," Hermione dictated severely, as she would to a little misbehaving child. "They're much better than any Malfoys." A hard object connected with her leg, and Hermione gave a muffled yelp. It took her a minute to realize what had happened.

"I can't believe you just kicked me," she hissed at him, trying to numb the pain. "I thought boys didn't hit girls!"

Malfoy raised an amused eyebrow. "That's a very sexist comment, Granger." He pretended to study his nails for a moment. "And I only kicked you because you insulted my family."

Hermione gritted her teeth, scooting her chair back. "Don't do that again! It hurts!"

"Oh, and you think your kick was soft and comforting?" Malfoy retorted, grimacing. "I'll have black and blue marks for days!" He mulled over something for a minute while Hermione massaged her lower leg, wondering if Ginny would be willing to curse a "first year" is she asked nicely.

"That must be why Potter is such a clutz in Potions," Malfoy said at last. "Not only is he clumsy to begin with, you're also kicking him the whole time. You're a harasser," he informed her. "And a sexist."

"And you're just plain annoying!" Hermione snapped back.

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"That's what you think."

"Believe me, Draco, if I'd meant it to be a compliment, you would know!"

"Granger! Do you mind not being so loud? I would actually prefer if people didn't hear you use my name, much less my first name!"

"At least I have the courage to use your first name!" Hermione hissed, lowering her voice as Madame Pince looked up from her desk.

"You think it's too hard for me to say your first name?"

"Is it?"

"No!"

"Then say it!"

"All right, I will, Hermione." He glared fiercely at her.

Hermione leaned leisurely back in her chair, a slow grin overtaking her face.

Malfoy's triumphant expression faded, and his eyes widened. He swore under his breath. "Granger, I hate you."

"Now, there were two things wrong with that sentence," Hermione said, ticking them off on her fingers. "One, you forgot that you were supposed to say, 'Hermione, I hate you.' By the way, the feeling's mutual. Second, you swore. Seeing as how I don't let Ron do it, I'm not much inclined to let you do it, especially since it's coming from a first year's mouth."

"I am not a bloody first year," Malfoy hissed, looking particularly young with the petulant look on his face and his lower lip stuck out.

"Yes, but you look like one," Hermione pointed out.

"Do you need to mention that every other minute?" he demanded. "Honestly, Granger, it's jut making things worse. I already feel incredibly stupid for letting you trick me, and you're not helping." Hermione's lips twitched, and Malfoy groaned, realizing what he'd said.

"And I just admitted that I was feeling less than my usual perfect self. Either I need to get back to Slytherin where people don't randomly reveal what they are feeling, or else I need some coffee." He contemplated for a moment. "Or both."

Hermione shook a finger in mock rebuttal. "Now, Conrad, first years aren't supposed to drink coffee. It's too much caffeine."

He glared at a spot behind her head. "Hello, Potter."

Hermione gasped and whirled around. Malfoy's chuckles rang in her ears as she turned bright red. Harry wasn't behind her, nor was he even in the library.

"I haven't lost all my touch," Malfoy said, nearly preening himself. The only reason Hermione didn't kick him again was because her leg was still smarting.

"So who's taking care of Aqua?"

Hermione was taken aback at the abrupt change in conversation. "Neville," she answered automatically.

"Longbottom?" Malfoy clarified, pulling a face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you know anyone else with that last name?"

Malfoy frowned. "Actually, no, thank God."

Hermione really wanted to kick him. Or slap him again. Or just wipe that sneer off of his smirking face period.

"I'm sure Neville is perfectly capable of taking care of a pixie," Hermione reassured him. "Especially a calm one like Aqua."

"Well, Granger, not that I particularly care for Longbottom, but I think it's him you should be worried about rather than your pixie," Malfoy drawled.

"Hermione," she reminded him.

"Granger, if you can't even remember your own name, I suggest you go to Madame Pomfrey. On second thought, though, perhaps you should join Gilderoy Lockhart, wherever the bumbling fool is. I'm sure he'll be glad to have one of his little fans back."

Hermione kicked him again, and then scooted her own chair back even further so he wouldn't be able to reach her.

"For you information, Gilderoy Lockhart is in St. Mungo's, or at least he was last Christmas," Hermione informed him primly as Malfoy rocked back and forth, inspecting his leg.

He looked up just long enough to sneer, though the effect wasn't quite what he'd probably hoped for considering the grimace of pain on his face. "I'm touched to know you care enough to know where he is, Granger."

Hermione sighed. "Malfoy, these little study sessions would be so much more pleasant if you weren't so . . . aggravating."

"Well, at least I don't kick you every second," he retorted, glaring back at her. "And you're entirely too judgmental. It's not that I'm too aggravating, you're just too sensitive!"

"Better being sensitive than an annoying, irresponsible prat!"

"Can we please start studying?" he asked in an aggrieved tone. "We've been here thirty minutes, and I'm no closer to leaving than I was when I started. I have to do my first year homework, too, you know."

In response Hermione got out all her books and parchment, including the homework she'd graded. She showed him the errors in his essays, and told him what the assignments were for the week, as well as giving him a brief overview of the lessons and describing the books teachers had recommended for further researching. When she had finished, Hermione expected him to leave immediately or at least begin some of the homework, but he began to speak again.

"Is it true that you turned Weasley into a dog in Transfiguration?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers.

Hermione flamed red. "J-just a tiny bit," she muttered. "Who told you?"

Malfoy gave a sharp, short laugh. "Everyone knows about it! The story's been going around school for the past few days, or hadn't you noticed? Not to mention it was fairly hard to miss Weasley stomping around the school all Monday afternoon. And then you were crying and causing a general commotion in the common room," he added.

"I was not crying," Hermione protested. "I was upset, but I didn't cry! And we didn't cause a commotion! Ron wasn't even that mad!"

Malfoy shrugged. "Well, the change from human to dog can't have been that hard considering it's Weasley . . ." This time he was prepared. Malfoy jerked his chair back, and Hermione's foot, instead of connecting with his shin, hit the table with a loud bang.

"Really, Granger," said Malfoy, shaking his finger in an admonishing way. "I would have thought you would know the rules by now, young lady! Imagine, making noise in the library!"

Hermione's face burned, as other students looked up to see who had caused the loud noise. She slid down in her seat, wishing she were old enough to apparate, and that Hogwarts wasn't a no-apparating zone to begin with.

"If you hadn't insulted Ron again," Hermione hissed, "then I wouldn't have-"

"I would say it's time for a hasty retreat," interrupted Malfoy nervously. "The librarian doesn't look too happy." They fled, barely managing to grab all their book and supplies.

"Now that is what I call annoying," Malfoy gasped, stopping outside the library for breath. "She chased us out of the library, which is where we need to be. I am not annoying." He paused. "Or at least only a little. Madame Picky is a person who really needs some noise in her life, the dull bat!"

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "Her name is Madame Pince!"

"Yes, because I'm sure that you haven't called Professor Snape names in your life. Or Umbridge for that matter," Malfoy added.

Hermione turned red with anger. "Umbridge was not a teacher!" she hissed. "Umbridge was foul, dirty, evil, and horrid! She-"

"Hermione?" asked an uncertain voice.

Hermione turned. Her eyes widened at the sight of Ginny standing there, eyeing them nervously. Something small and green pelted out of Ginny's hand and smacked Hermione on the nose. Tearing, she felt her nose to make sure it hadn't broken and then tried to glare at the pixie. Considering Aqua was now sitting on her head, playing with her hair and chattering shrilly, it didn't quite work.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, her eyes still watering. She didn't look at Malfoy, hoping he would play along with whatever lie she dreamed up.

"She was a bit too much for Neville," Ginny explained, eyes darting suspiciously to Malfoy. "He claimed to be having a nervous breakdown."

"Can't be hard," Malfoy said in a low voice, that, unfortunately for him, they both heard.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked coldly, not bothering to hide her dislike.

His eyes narrowed. "I have every right to be here." He paused, face screwed up in concentration. "Ginny." Malfoy tilted his head slightly in Hermione's direction for confirmation, and she gave the barest of nods.

"How do you know my name?" Ginny demanded, her hands on her hips. She turned to Hermione. "What are you doing here, and why did you leave Aqua again?"

"I couldn't take her into the library with me," Hermione explained. "I was just finishing now-"

"When I bumped into her, and I stopped to help her pick up her stuff," Malfoy finished smoothly.

"And I was telling him about Umbridge," Hermione added, relieved. While it was highly unjust that Malfoy was getting credit for something he hadn't done, nor would have ever thought of doing, (namely helping her pick up her books) it had to be said that Slytherins, Malfoy in particular, were much better liars than Gryffindors.

Ginny looked taken back. "Are you sure that's all you were doing?"

"Ginny!" cried Hermione in horror, staring at the redhead and forgetting that Malfoy was no longer his sixteen year old self. "How could you-?"

Ginny turned bright red, and Malfoy cleared his throat, not looking at either of them.

"Hermione, you know that's not what I meant," said Ginny weakly. "I was just curious." She eyed Malfoy suspiciously. "You two seem to meet a lot, and it still doesn't explain how he-" she pointed at Malfoy- "knows my name."

"Another first year told me," Malfoy said instantly. "Anna Wallarty."

"Oh." Ginny, while mollified, still didn't look convinced. "Well, here's your pixie, Hermione," she said at last.

Hermione nodded. "Thanks. Sorry you had to bring her, Ginny. Could you tell Harry and Ron that I'll be in the common room in a few minutes?" It was a dismissal, and Hermione felt horrible. Ginny gave her an angry look as she turned away.

"Sure, Hermione. I'll tell them." She glanced at Malfoy one last time before walking down the hall without looking back.

Hermione sighed when Ginny turned the corner. "That was a good cover story," she whispered, hoping there would be no more surprises that night. "Is there really a first year named Anna?"

Malfoy looked distinctly uncomfortable, a faint pink flush entering his cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, there is an Anna."

"And?" Hermione prodded.

"She, er, likes to hang around me when I'm working in the common room," Malfoy muttered. "Not that I haven't repeatedly told her to go away . . ."

Hermione laughed. It sounded very much as if this girl had a crush on Conrad Johnson. Wouldn't she be surprised to learn his true identity!

Malfoy glared at her, daring her to tease him, but for once, Hermione didn't say anything. His gaze softened as he looked up at Aqua, still perched on Hermione's head and playing with her hair.

"Can you bring her next time? We wouldn't want more people finding us," he added hastily, lest she thought he had developed any affection for her pixie.

Hermione tried desperately not to grin. "Maybe. I'm not sure if she'd be allowed in the library. We'll see." There was an awkward pause.

"Thanks for giving her a name," Hermione said at last. "I would never have thought of 'Aqua'."

"You already said 'thank you'," Malfoy reminded her.

Hermione shrugged. "I know. But haven't you ever heard of thanking someone twice?" The moment she asked the question she knew his answer.

Malfoy was silent for a moment, thinking over her words. "Probably not," he admitted. "You're welcome. Again."

Hermione was shocked. "You mean you never . . .?"

"No, I haven't," said Malfoy, looking irritated. "But I'll give it a go. Thanks for letting me help with the pixies a few days ago."

"You're welcome," Hermione said quietly, and Malfoy looked slightly ashamed for getting mad. She grinned. "Although I'm not sure if I should be thanking you for teaching her how to draw or smacking you. That's all she ever wants to do now." There was another awkward silence, in which Malfoy looked longingly at Aqua, and Hermione wondered if she should offer to let him hold her.

"You should probably go see Potter and Weasley," said Malfoy finally, just as she was about to offer Aqua to him. "You said you would, and Ginny's already suspicious."

"'Ginny'?" asked Hermione, smiling. "You can call her by her first name, but you won't call me 'Hermione'?"

Malfoy flushed. "If I called her 'Weasley,' I might get confused," he mumbled, starting to turn away.

"See you, Conrad," Hermione called as she began walking down the hall. At the stairs she turned to see him head toward the Slytherin dungeons. Doubtless he was going to get his diary.

Hermione helped Aqua down from her head, murmuring to the pixie as she walked down the silent, empty halls.

"So Ron has a crush on somebody, and a girl called Anna has a crush on Malfoy," she mused quietly. Hermione laughed. "I wonder what Pansy would say if she knew a Gryffindor first year was flirting with her boyfriend . . ."