Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 9

A Beautiful Smile

After the first few trying weeks of school, September had passed relatively quickly. The sixth years had continued with human transfiguration, although none had progressed as much as Hermione, who had partly transfigured almost every member of her class by then. Ron had stopped falling asleep whenever he was practiced on and had started to wonder whether being conscious during the transfiguration was an improvement or not.

Quidditch practice was going pretty well, and the Gryffindor team was approaching their first game, against Ravenclaw, at the beginning of November. The pixies had bonded extremely well with their caretakers, all except for Sprink, who proceeded to wreck several more pillows in the boys' dormitories over the month. And, unbeknownst to Harry, Ron, and just about every other student at Hogwarts, Hermione and Malfoy were still having their weekly study sessions.

Hermione raced to the library, skidding to a stop in front of the small brunette waiting for her. His glare only lasted a second.

"You're late."

"But fashionably," Hermione added, pushing her hair out of her face.

"Not really, Granger."

"Hermione."

"Yes, that. Being fashionably late would mean you purposely kept someone waiting in order to appear sophisticated in society. Of course, it could also mean you're just vain. You were only six minutes late, though, which means you simply weren't watching the time." He sniffed. "Besides, you can't use the term 'fashionably late' as it is synonymous to 'Malfoy,' and you are neither."

"Yes, well, vain certainly describes your lineage," Hermione muttered under her breath.

He frowned. "What was that?"

"Absolutely nothing."

Malfoy studied her for a minute, his eyes lighting up when Aqua zoomed off of Hermione's shoulder and landed in his outstretched hand.

"You brought her!" he said, sounding delighted.

Hermione blushed. Though Malfoy had been hinting at her for weeks that he wanted her to bring Aqua to their study sessions, she had always made up some excuse. It didn't quite seem right, considering they were actually on friendly terms for the moment, to tell him the only reason Hermione had brought Aqua was because she hadn't been able to find anyone to baby-sit her.

"Yes, I did, but I don't think you should broadcast it to the entire school," Hermione said, lowering her voice. "I would find it incredibly odd if Madame Pince allowed pixies in the library."

"Madame Picky doesn't allow me in the library, but, as you can see, that certainly hasn't stopped me."

"And I suppose 'rule-breaking' is synonymous to 'Malfoy' as well?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Malfoy looked pleased. "Why, Granger, I do believe you're starting to get it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We can banter all you like once we're safely at our table, now move! And put Aqua in your pocket."

"Don't push!" Malfoy ordered, maneuvering in front of her and sliding Aqua into his pocket.

Hermione sighed. "I didn't touch you."

"Yes, but you're pushing verbally, and it's almost as bad."

"You know, I just realized I can see over the top of your head," Hermione remarked brightly. She could almost hear Malfoy grind his teeth. Hermione waited for a sharp retort, but none came. She glanced around, looking down at him. Malfoy was staring, wide-eyed, at the front desk. Hermione looked to see what was so captivating and groaned softly.

"Don't worry, Madame Pince, I'll take good care of them," promised a fake, sickly sweet voice. Pansy Parkinson flashed the librarian a cold grin and turned away, carrying her books. Malfoy followed her every move. Hermione would've kicked him if it wouldn't have been so conspicuous.

"What are you looking at?" Pansy snapped, noticing them. Her eyes flashed with cruel mirth when she saw Malfoy. "I would have thought Potter and Weasley would be enough for you, Granger. Don't tell me you're seducing little boys now."

Hermione's face burned, and she opened her mouth, but Malfoy beat her to it.

"I don't think Granger's actually qualified when it comes to seduction," he drawled. "There hasn't been a book on how to do it written yet." Hermione turned even redder as Pansy stared at Malfoy in half astonishment, half awe. Was he trying to make things better or worse?

Pansy eyed Hermione with some interest. "What are you doing with the little snot anyway?" Her eyes widened, and she leaned to the side. "Granger, is that your pixie?"

Malfoy glared at her. "I am not a-"

Hermione leaned forward so her robes blocked Malfoy's pocket, stepping on his foot as discreetly as she could. "He's not really a snot, he's just reaching, you know, puberty," Hermione whispered confidentially. Pansy looked as if she couldn't decide whether to snort in disgust or laugh.

She struggled with her facial features for a moment, before remembering it wasn't proper to be conversing with a Gryffindor. Her ice composure returned. "Have fun, Granger." Pansy eyed Malfoy in amusement before stalking out of the library.

"What did you say to her?" Malfoy demanded the moment she was gone.

Hermione tried not to smile. "Aqua's climbing out of your pocket," she warned in a whisper.

Malfoy cupped a hand over his pocket, muffling the pixie's startled yelps. "What did you say?" he asked again, glaring.

Hermione shrugged. "I said you were reaching puberty."

"You- I- Granger!" he hissed. Hermione sighed, and dragged him by the arm to the corner, smiling cheerfully at the students looking at them.

"You had to make the stupid comment about- that!" Hermione retorted angrily.

"Pansy started it!"

"Why didn't you just let me reply?"

"Because, Granger, you're a terrible liar."

"I am not!"

"You're proving my point exactly."

"What is going on here?" Hermione jumped, shocked to see Madame Pince right in front of them. She froze, hoping she didn't look guilty.

"Mr Johnson, I thought I made it quite clear last time I didn't want you coming back to the library unless you could behave yourself. Obviously, you weren't listening to me," snapped Madame Pince, glaring fiercely at Malfoy. "Now I want you out of my library!" She pointed at the door, her angry expression leaving no room for argument.

"Madame Pince, it's partly my fault," began Hermione.

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Miss Granger." The librarian was seething. "I expected better of you, especially after your last warning." She pointed at the door again. It was at that moment that Aqua gave a most inopportune squeak.

"What was that?" Madame Pince demanded instantly, her eyes searching the library like a hawk's.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to be expelled from the library forever.

"It was my pixie," said Malfoy numbly. He held Aqua up. "At least, I was watching her. I thought she was asleep."

Madame Pince stared at him with cold fury, her eyes shooting from him to Aqua. She jerked her finger at the door again, quivering with rage. "Out of the library. Now."

Malfoy turned around without a word and strode out of the library. Hermione didn't give Madame Pince a second glance, running to keep up with him. They walked down the hall for a few minutes, neither of them speaking.

"Why did you say Aqua was yours?" Hermione asked at last, unable to think of anything else to say.

Incredibly, Malfoy looked hurt. "Oh, yes, I forgot," he snapped. "She's your pixie. Excuse me for trying to help!"

Hermione was stung. "That wasn't what I meant! I meant, why did you take the blame?"

"Oh." He reddened slightly, turning his face so she couldn't see. "I don't know." He hesitated. "If you said she was your pixie, Madame Pince would've banned you from the library."

"That was sweet," Hermione said quietly.

Malfoy shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter. She would've kicked me out anyway. Besides, if you weren't allowed to go to the library you'd be moaning and crying for the rest of the year, and I wouldn't learn anything."

Hermione smiled despite herself. "I would not."

"Would, too," he countered. There was a pause. "Where do we go? We can't go back to the library."

Hermione glanced around the hallways, as if in hope that an empty classroom might suddenly appear. "The Gryffindor common room isn't really an option." She bit her lip, looking at Malfoy out of the corner of her eye. He had a very shifty look on his face and kept on switching weight from one foot to the other. The consternated look on his face and the way he kept taking deep breaths as if about to speak only strengthened her suspicions.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Hermione asked as nonchalantly as she could.

"Oh, so we're back to referring to each other by our surnames, are we, Hermione? Good. I like it better this way."

Hermione struggled to hide her grin. "Don't try to distract me, Draco," she said, putting heavy emphasis on his first name. "What is it?"

Malfoy looked very put out to say the least. He cleared his throat, checking the halls to make sure no one was there before speaking. "There are house-elves here at Hogwarts, right?" he whispered so softly that Hermione had to lean in to hear.

She nodded, wondering how he could possibly not know this. Hadn't any of the Slytherins ever read Hogwarts, A History? The question was on the tip of her tongue when he continued speaking.

"House-elves usually know every inch of their residences- better than the owners sometimes. Now, I have no idea where house-elves would be in this dratted castle, but if we can find one, I'm sure they'd know an unused room somewhere that we could work in." He stepped back hastily, looking quite proud at his idea.

Hermione almost laughed. "The house-elves are in the kitchen! Haven't you ever been there?"

There was a blank expression on Malfoy's face. "What kitchen?"

Hermione sighed in disgust, ready to start ranting at him about house-elves' rights when she remembered the key part in his words. I'm sure they'd know an unused room somewhere that we could work in.

Of course! Hermione snapped her fingers, grinning broadly. Without another word she whirled around and started walking briskly to the nearest set of stairs.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy demanded, jogging to keep up with her. "Aren't we going to the kitchen to find the house-elves?"

"No, because I already know where we can work," Hermione explained. "I can't believe I didn't think of it already!"

"Think of what?" Malfoy said irritably.

"The Room of Requirement!" said Hermione brightly. "Dobby told us about it last year when we needed space to practice Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Room of what? And who on earth is Dobby? Not the house-elf?" Malfoy asked, looking scandalized.

Hermione slowed down, turning to him. "How do you know Dobby?"

He glared at the air in front of him. "He used to work for us, but he was freed by accident a few years ago."

"Oh, I forgot! Dobby was your house-elf wasn't he? Harry told us about when he gave the diary back to your father."

"What?" Malfoy yelped. "How do you-"

"Harry tricked your father into freeing Dobby," Hermione explained happily, not feeling the least bit abashed.

"Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason why I hate Potter so much?"

"I think it was marvelous that Harry helped set Dobby free. He's so much happier working at Hogwarts. Besides-" she sniffed, "he certainly wasn't happy slaving for your family."

"He works at Hogwarts? And he told you that he doesn't like us? How dare he!"

Hermione frowned, scanning the halls quickly before remembering the way. "Actually, he kept on forgetting that he was free and that he could say all the bad stuff about you he liked."

"Who said he wanted to say bad stuff about us?" Malfoy demanded, trying to sound hurt but not succeeding very well. "Maybe he liked us and wanted to say good stuff."

"And maybe you'll magically turn into a Gryffindor." Hermione stopped speaking, frowning. "Scratch that, it already happened."

"Very witty, Granger."

"Hermione."

"Whatever."

Hermione didn't answer, she was too busy panting for breath. She paused at the seventh floor, looking down the corridor for the familiar painting.

"You still haven't said where we're going," Malfoy piped up.

"I told you already! We're going to the Room of Requirement."

"Oh, yes, how silly of me. The Room of Requirement! I go there all the time!"

Hermione stopped in front of the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and turned toward the opposite wall.

"Granger, unless you're hallucinating, which I sincerely hope you're not because it would mean I'd have to drag you to the Hospital Wing, there aren't any doors or rooms here," Malfoy informed her, rolling his eyes and making to leave. He stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "Wait a minute, I remember this place! There was a door here last year! Potter came out of it, and I jinxed him!"

Hermione felt a sick feeling in her stomach as she remembered the night of their last DA session, when the Inquisitorial Squad had been sent to catch its members. It had been Marietta Edgecombe who'd betrayed the DA to Umbrigde but it was Malfoy who'd single-handedly caught Harry. It was partly because of him that Dumbledore had left Hogwarts and Umbridge had taken over. Hermione felt a cold rage rise in her, and she had to squash the urge to hit him.

"What?" Malfoy asked, seeing her steely expression. Hermione looked away so she wouldn't have to see his face. Could he really be so stupid? Did he really not know how he'd helped end the DA last year, one of the few things that almost thirty students had really looked forward to, not to mention they were learning valuable spells?

"Walk down the hallway three times and think of a place in which we can study and practice spells," Hermione ordered, trying to stay calm. Malfoy sighed audibly, giving her a very disparaging look.

"I don't see how on earth-"

"Just do it."

He complied, though he didn't try to hide the fact that he thought they were wasting their time. Hermione walked a foot behind him, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to imagine what her ideal study room would be like. First off, it would have lots of books and a big table to spread all her materials on. She had liked the cushions they'd used in the DA for jinx practice and maybe a cheerful fireplace . . .

Hermione opened her eyes at hearing Malfoy's sharp intake of breath. Just as she'd seen it many times before, a door that hadn't been there before stood in front of them, beckoning them in. She felt a pang of regret as she opened it and led the way inside. It wasn't fair that Harry and Ron weren't there and that she was sharing this magical, wonderful room with Malfoy, who most certainly did not deserve it. Somehow it felt like she was betraying her best friends.

"Where are we?" Malfoy asked, staring wide-eyed around the room.

Seeing his amazement, Hermione studied their new surroundings as well. Just as she'd hoped for, there was a large circular table in the center of the room with two comfortably padded chairs around it. A roaring fireplace lit up the various bookcases and neatly ordered stacks of cushions. In the back of the room, next to a few potted plants, was a long couch with at least five throw pillows. Except for that small bit of décor it was like a mini, private library.

"I would assume you dreamed up the couch?" Hermione asked pointedly.

&ldquoI like working in comfort," Malfoy informed her. He stared around the room again thoughtfully, a devious, conniving look on his face. "So this room will give you whatever you want when you walk in the door?"

"Er . . ." Hermione stalled for time, hoping he wouldn't use the room to his advantage. "If you need a place to study or use for something serious, it'll accommodate your needs. You can't make a luxurious entertainment center when you're bored, though." She crossed her fingers, trying hard not to turn red. Malfoy gave the room a disappointing look, and Hermione relaxed. Who said that Gryffindors weren't good liars?

"And Dobby knew about this place?" Malfoy said incredulously.

Hermione frowned. "Yes. He heard about it from the other house-elves and told Harry about it."

Malfoy snorted. "I don't even think this room could supply all the books Potter would need to learn something."

Hermione glared, her repressed anger rising again. "Well, then it probably couldn't help you."

Malfoy, though very indignant, looked a little shocked at the ferocity in her tone. "Granger, what is the matter with you tonight? Ever since we came up here you've been acting strange, even for a Gryffindor." He waited for a reply, but Hermione only looked at him in cold silence. He sighed.

"Ok, I can remedy the silent treatment . . . Hermione, what is the matter with you tonight? Ever since we came to this room-"

Hermione couldn't help but soften a little at his second try. "There are a few-" her eyes swept the room- "bad memories here."

Malfoy looked confused. "Then why did you suggest we come?"

"Well, there are also a lot of good memories from here," Hermione added hurriedly, not wanting to give the wrong impression. "Certain things happened, though." She wanted him to ask what had happened. She wanted him to unlock the dam that was holding up all her pent-up emotions.

"What things?" he asked, as if able to read her mind.

It was all the invitation Hermione needed. "Last year we used the Room of Requirement for our DA meetings."

"The secret rendezvous' Umbridge broke up last year?"

Hermione stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds, wondering what else he knew. When he indicated for her to continue she did.

"Yes. Those meetings were our replacement Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Harry taught us jinxes, and curses, and how to defend ourselves from creatures like Dementors so that when Voldemort and the Death Eaters started attacking people we'd be ready!" Hermione burst out, unable to contain it any longer. "Everyone was learning so much! Neville, and Luna, and Ginny. There were people from other Houses, too, like Ernie Macmillan and Cho Chang." Hermione gulped for breath. "And then that horrible, foul woman found out and brought it to Fudge. That's why Dumbledore had to leave Hogwarts!" She was crying now. The tears she didn't want Malfoy to see were coursing down her cheeks, and she couldn't stop them. "And you helped her!"

Malfoy, alarmed, stepped back. "Me? What did I do?"

"You caught Harry!" Hermione spat. "You said it in the hallway! You jinxed him so Umbridge could find him!"

Malfoy stared at her, shocked by her tirade. "I was following her orders!" he said at last, but there was a lack of conviction in his voice.

"Oh, yes, I remember, you were part of her darling Inquisitorial Squad!"

"She hadn't started the Squad then! It wasn't created until after Dumbledore abandoned Hogwarts!"

"Well, I guess the fact that you caught Harry explains how you got into her trusted league in the first place!" When the meaning of his words struck Hermione she had to remind herself that if she slapped him again she'd be slapping a much smaller and weaker person than herself. "And how dare you say Dumbledore 'abandoned' Hogwarts! He was forced to leave!"

Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet. There seemed to be some kind of personal battle going on inside him, one that Hermione wasn't a part of. When he spoke it was in a collected tone Hermione couldn't help but envy.

"Granger, I apologize for helping to end your meetings. I didn't realize they were so . . . special." He started to grimace, and then changed it to a very forced smile. "Seeing as how there's a lovely, large table waiting for us to study on, don't you think we should start?"

Hermione took a deep breath, willing herself to become as calm as he was. It wasn't easy considering his apology had been as fake as his smile and he had said nothing whatsoever concerning how he'd jinxed Harry. Not trusting herself to speak, Hermione slowly sat in a chair. It was as if the Room sensed her discomfort for the chair's velvet pad seemed to grow another two inches thick and armrests appeared that she was almost positive hadn't been there before. Malfoy watched her every movement and then sat himself. Hermione, though slightly mollified to see that his chair didn't have armrests, still glared fiercely.

It was obvious Malfoy thought she was bordering on the line of turning psychotic for he swiftly took over, choosing his words carefully.

"What did you do in Potions?" he asked, speaking very slowly and enunciating clearly.

Hermione's glare only intensified. "I am not a six year-old."

"Did you make any potions or did you take notes?" Malfoy continued patiently, as if she hadn't said anything.

"We made Anti-Animosity Mixtures," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "In preparation for making Love Potions."

Malfoy looked mildly interested, and he quickly got out a quill and parchment. "Did you test them?"

"Yes." She stared at him mutely until at last he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"And what happened?" he asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone.

"I chatted with Morag MacDougal," Hermione said indifferently. "He happens to be quite good at Arithmancy, and we compared the results from our last exam."

"But he's in Slytherin," said Malfoy incredulously. "He's one of my friends."

"Well, fortunately for Morag, you can't have had that much of an influence on him, seeing as how he's not such a prat," said Hermione coldly. "Besides, I wasn't aware you had any friends."

It was Malfoy's turn to glare. "I'm just surprised you'd go for Morag."

Hermione's temper flamed. "I did not go for him, Professor Snape assigned us as partners. I couldn't very well work with Harry since we were making Anti-Animosity Mixtures. Not that Morag isn't a little good looking," she added as an afterthought.

"Sure, if you like guys with messy black hair," Malfoy snorted. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, wait, that describes Potter."

"Better that than any blonde," Hermione snapped. "Or brunette." They exchanged identical glares, but, surprisingly, Malfoy's was the first to falter.

"Look, Granger," he said abruptly, actually sounding serious. "The insults are getting old, and the banter is getting boring. I want to get some studying done tonight, and if you're not going to stop acting like a five year-old, I'm going to leave."

Hermione's face burned, but she didn't say anything. It was stretching it to compare her behavior to that of a five year-old's, but Malfoy was right when he implied she wasn't acting her age. At the moment he was being more of an adult than she was, and he was the one back in first year!

"I just want to make one thing clear, Malfoy," Hermione said, taking a deep breath as she tried to ease her facial features from its glare. "This Room and everything that happened in it last year is special. We had to stop using it when Umbridge found out about our . . . meetings. You helped her." She paused to let this sink in. Hermione felt guilty for the uncomfortable look on Malfoy's face, but she was determined to tell him of the trouble he'd caused in fifth year.

"I don't want to be sharing this room with you," Hermione began again, "but obviously I have to. I'll try not to let any past . . . events get in the way our your tutoring." She tried to smile but it was hard considering the picture of a smug, smirking Draco Malfoy from the previous year was still in her mind.

"Ok . . ." said Malfoy slowly, looking slightly perturbed by her speech. He couldn't seem to think of anything else to say, and a short silence followed his reply.

"And now we won't talk about it anymore," Hermione said after a moment, trying to sound efficient and organized. She took out her notes and began explaining in detail how they had made the Anti-Animosity Mixtures and what kind of effects they had had on the class. She told about how she and Morag had started out insulting each other until they got onto the topic of Arithmancy, when they started having a serious discussion without realizing at first they had stopped bickering. She recalled how Harry had actually been having a conversation with Millicent Bulstrode (never mind the fact that the Slytherin had been chattering aimlessly about the long and boring train ride to school while Harry just listened in bored but polite silence). Hermione ended by telling a very shocked Malfoy that Padma Patil from Ravenclaw had actually started the homework with Pansy Parkinson after spending the whole class comparing make-up and fashions.

"I can't say I'm upset that I missed that lesson," said Malfoy in a disgusted voice after she had finished recounting their interesting Potions experience. "Imagine talking about Quidditch with Potter." He actually looked a little paler than normal. "Or conversing with a Hufflepuff."

Hermione was, for once, more confused than hurt. "How would it be any different than what we're doing now?" she asked. "We're not friends, but we're certainly not fighting right now, are we? We're getting along to a certain degree, and everyone in Potions seemed to be enjoying themselves."

Malfoy considered it for a minute and then nodded reluctantly. "I suppose we are getting along amiably . . . all things considering." He looked surprised at the actual, spoken words.

"Yes, but not friends," Hermione agreed, rather uncomfortable and starting to wish she hadn't brought the matter up.

"No, I still hate you, Granger."

"It's mutual." For some reason Hermione felt relieved. It just didn't seem right to be acting friendly with Malfoy. It was easier to hate him, or at the very least dislike him, than to be nice and considerate toward him.
"Not that I think you shouldn't call me by my first name," Hermione added. "I still prefer that to 'Granger' or other more offensive terms."

"We'll see," said Malfoy airily, and she was reassured by the familiar flash of annoyance she felt at his words. They were silent after this for a few minutes. Malfoy was leafing through a book Hermione had lent him on different kinds of Cooking Charms, and she was working diligently on an essay for Herbology.

"What are you doing in Transfiguration?" Malfoy asked, closing the book and setting it unceremoniously aside. He took Aqua out of his pocket and gave her a bottle of ink to draw with. The pixie immediately plunked herself down on the nearest piece of parchment and began doodling. Hermione smiled at her before answering his question.

"We're still doing human transfiguration. Professor McGonagall says we'll continue until we all master at least one cross-species change."

Malfoy didn't answer and when Hermione looked up from her essay she was surprised. Unaware that she was staring at him, he didn't seem to be trying to hide the dejected look on his face. He stroked the top of Aqua's head broodingly until the pixie finally tired of the attention and yelped, swatting at him with her ink-stained fingers.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked finally, wondering if perhaps she had been speaking correctly when she'd told Pansy that "Conrad" was hitting puberty. Or was that even possible considering he was technically sixteen? It would certainly explain the mood swings he was going through.

Malfoy gave her a startled look, obviously having forgotten she was there. "Nothing's wrong."

"And I thought Slytherins were good at lying," scoffed Hermione. If anything were to draw him out of his shell, it would be an attack on his House.

"I am not lying," Malfoy retorted haughtily, drawing himself up imperiously. Hermione didn't bother mentioning the fact that there was nothing even remotely intimidating about an indignant eleven year-old.

"Then tell me what's wrong," Hermione insisted.

Malfoy glared at her, but inexplicably she knew it was only out of habit. "If you must know, it's dreadfully unfair that you are all getting to transfigure each other, and I'm stuck changing matches into needles again."

"Well, you must have perfected it by now, so it's not like you're learning something over," Hermione reasoned. "Professor McGonagall's probably given you dozens of House points."

"Unfortunately," he said dryly. Hermione smothered a smile, remembering it was probably not Malfoy's intention to help win the House Cup for Gryffindor.

"You'll get to transfigure next year," Hermione reminded him. "Providing you find a way to lift the curse."

Malfoy sighed. "Yes, but I'll be way behind everyone else."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, cracking a smile. "And I take it that's not something you Malfoys are accustomed to being."

He sniffed, his nose turned up in disdain. "Of course, it isn't."

Hermione chose not to answer. "I can teach you the incantations. That's a start at least."

"But I still won't be practicing." Was that a hopeful look Malfoy was giving her? It suddenly dawned on Hermione why he was pushing it, and automatically she scooted her chair farther from the table, and, consequentially, him.

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Do not even think it."

"Think what?" he feigned, pretending to study his nails.

"You are not practicing transfiguration on me," Hermione declared. "There is absolutely not way I am going to let you do that."

Malfoy's face took on a calculating look when he realized he couldn't deny it any longer. "Why not, Granger?" he demanded instantly. "I won't hurt you."

Hermione shot him a scathing look. "I'm sure. Knowing you, you'd probably mess up the spell on purpose and mutate me somehow."

Malfoy pretended to be thinking. "I hadn't thought of that, Granger, but thanks for the idea." A handy burgundy pillow appeared out of nowhere on the table and Hermione threw it at him quite violently. He caught it easily, smirking. Aqua squealed, abandoning her drawing and rushing to Hermione's side of the table while covering her head from more pillow attacks.

"I was joking, Granger," drawled Malfoy. "I wouldn't mess up the spell on purpose. And it would be ever so helpful." His eyes widened in what he probably assumed was an innocent, endearing look. It made Hermione want to retch.

"Don't you even think of batting your eyelashes," she informed him, disgusted.

The innocent look disappeared fast. "I would never bat my eyelashes," Malfoy cried, shocked. "Especially not at you, Granger."

"Good. I might have to transfigure you into something that doesn't have eyelashes."

Malfoy's face took on a very cunning, thoughtful look, and Hermione instantly regretted her words. She didn't know what kind of idea she'd just given him but it obviously couldn't be a good one.

"If you let me transfigure you, I'll let you practice on me," Malfoy offered. Hermione gaped at him, lost for words. Coming from Malfoy, this was a very strange sacrifice. He must really want to transfigure someone, Hermione realized, eyeing him quite uncomfortably. Involuntarily she hugged herself. She didn't want to give Malfoy control over her body's shape. What if he messed up the spell, and she was stuck with a tail again for instance? It wouldn't be very easy to explain that to Madame Pomfrey. She gave him a sidelong look. On the other hand, Malfoy was one of the best wizards in their year, and as long as she set a few precautions she was pretty sure he'd be careful when transfiguring her. Besides, Hermione was always eager for extra practice, and Malfoy had agreed to let her transfigure him . . .

"I have a few conditions," Hermione announced, feeling awkward at the excited look that lit up his face at her words. "One, if something goes wrong with the spell and I'm horribly transfigured, you must promise to get Professor McGonagall and explain who you really are."

"I promise," Malfoy responded without hesitation. Hermione realized how unreliable he could be a second to late. Not comforted by the thought that he might simply abandon her if something went wrong, she continued.

"Two, you're only going to transfigure me into a cat. Nothing that could leave me with some kind of horrible feature if you mess up." Besides, Hermione added to herself, she already knew what it was like to be a partial cat after her mishap with Polyjuice Potion in second year. Malfoy didn't seem fazed by her second condition and merely nodded.

Hermione took a deep breath, wishing she were anywhere but the Room of Requirement at that moment. She didn't want Malfoy to transfigure her. Better Neville, who broke down whenever it was time to remove the spell in Transfiguration class, than Malfoy.

"Granger?" His voice broke her thoughts, and Hermione shook her head, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

"Don't be worried," Malfoy ordered, sounding extremely confident. "I won't mess up." Hermione nodded, gulping. Numbly, she slid out the list of incantations Professor McGongall had instructed them to copy down ages ago. She handed them to Malfoy and told him to study them for a few minutes as there was no way in the world she would let him transfigure her without at least saying the spell first. He did, eyeing her with amusement in his eyes that she deeply resented. If the roles had been reversed, Hermione was positive Malfoy would have come as close to letting her transfigure him as he would to asking her out on a date.

"Are you ready?" he asked at last, setting down the paper.

"Are you sure you studied it enough?" Hermione asked quickly. "You know the incantation perfectly?"

He was most definitely amused, which was not comforting in the least. "Relax, Granger."

"I'd like to see you try to relax if you're school nemesis were transfiguring you," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"In case you forgot, we'll be switching places in a few minutes," Malfoy reminded her. "Not stop fidgeting and sit still." He squinted at her for a minute before taking out his wand. Even Aqua seemed to understand that something important was going on and was, for once, silent.

"Malfoy," said Hermione softly, breaking the silence one last time. "If- if something weird happens or I don't transfigure all the way- don't laugh."

He was silent for a minute, and she was sure that when she looked at him he would be trying to hold back laughter. Strangely, though, there was a troubled look on his face, and he seemed almost sorry.

"I won't, Granger." Surprisingly, he actually sounded sincere.

Hermione gulped. She had just put her trust in someone known for his deceit and his lies. It would almost make one wonder why she was considered the smartest witch in her year. It was too late to changer her mind, though, and she had to hope that maybe, just this once, Malfoy would keep his word.

Hermione shut her eyes, preferring not to see Malfoy transfigure her. In fact, she would prefer it if he couldn't see her either but seeing as how he was the spellcaster that was a bit of an impossibility . . . She could hear the swish of his robes moving as he lifted his wand.

"Acelias Filenetes."

Hermione had, of course, been partially transfigured in class before so she knew what to expect. There was no physical pain in transfiguration, not if the wizard or witch knew what he or she was doing. Instead, it seemed to dull the senses, making the transfigured state actually quite relaxing and even moderately comfortable. In some cases, such as Ron's, it could even lull the person to sleep.

For Hermione, it felt as if someone had poured a thick, gooey substance all over her that had wrapped her in some sort of cocoon. Even if she had opened her eyes she didn't think they would have been focused enough to see anything except for maybe an amber veil; at least, that was how she imagined it. There was no inclination to move, just to sit quietly and let the spell take over.

She could feel what was happening, though, but it was as if from a distance, like she were in someone else's body. Hermione knew instinctively when she sprouted fur because she instantly felt warmer. Her fingertips tensed slightly, tingling when her nails sharpened into little delicate claws. Hermione involuntarily smiled. She always felt thrilled when her hands changed into paws. The sharp, but elegant claws somehow made her feel braver and more secure.

These were the only changes she could feel, but Hermione knew that there had to be others. She didn't open her eyes, though, preferring to wait until it was finished. It seemed to take forever, but it was only a minute before Malfoy spoke.

"You can open your eyes."

Hermione blinked. He was looking at her in amazement, most likely in awe of his abilities. A small, surprised squeak came from the table. Aqua's eyes were huge as she looked up, clearly confused.

"What?" Hermione demanded, her voice scratchy and her words slightly muffled from the transfiguration. "You didn't mess up, did you?" She hadn't felt anything extraordinarily different than from what usually happened in class, but the shocked expression on his face was unnerving.

Malfoy shook his head quickly. "It's fine. You're not really a cat," he said almost apologetically. "But there are- similarities."

I really need a mirror, Hermione thought fervently. She glanced at the table and saw a small silver hand mirror. She picked it up with some difficulty, admiring her tiny silver claws. There wasn't a lot of fur on her fingers, only a bit of ginger fuzz, but it was still hard to control her digits. Without warning Malfoy leaned across the table, took the mirror, and silently held it up for her to see.

Hermione stared at her reflection. To her great relief Malfoy hadn't done a bad job for a first time. She still had a mane of brown hair reaching past her shoulders but the colour had lightened a bit to a ginger shade. Her eyes were more slanted, and they had changed from brown to amber. Hermione opened her mouth a tiny bit, gasping involuntarily when she saw that her teeth had sharpened slightly. That had never happened before when she had been transfigured. The only other visible changes on her face were the darkened tan of her skin (again it seemed to be going for ginger) and her nose, which was definitely slanted nearer to her diminished lips. Hermione couldn't help but smile. It certainly wasn't attractive but it was impressive for Malfoy's first time. When she looked up, she was surprised and slightly gratified to see that he was waiting for approval.

"It's good," Hermione said honestly. "I'm sure Professor McGongall would've liked it if she could've seen it." She extended a hand toward Aqua and let the doubtful pixie climb curiously onto it, taking care not to scratch her by accident with her claws.

Malfoy looked genuinely pleased. "I told you I wouldn't mess up."

Hermione gave him a wry smile. "As long as you can change me back." She rubbed her throat. It was beginning to become sore from all the talking in her new, hoarse voice.

A spasm of doubt flashed across his face but it quickly disappeared. "Of course," he said nonchalantly. "Nothing could be easier."

Hermione sat back in her chair. She gripped her wand in her pocket, just in case Malfoy couldn't do it. With any luck she could perform the counter-spell if it came to that.

"Finite Incantatem."

Hermione could feel herself drifting back into the mellow, half-unconscious state, but this time she forced her eyes to stay open. She watched drowsily as the fuzz on her hands began to recede, as did the claws. Her fingertips ached for a few seconds, as if they hadn't been stretched in a while, and then a numb feeling spread throughout them. Picking up the mirror, Hermione saw her eyes darken to brown, her skin pale as before.

Malfoy gave what sounded eerily like a sigh of relief. "See? Everything went fine." Hermione couldn't help but nod in agreement. He had certainly been better than she'd expected him to be. She sagged in her chair, suddenly tired. Doubtless it was a side effect from the transfiguration.

"I think I'll transfigure you next time, Malfoy," Hermione said, fighting to keep from yawning. "If we stay here too much longer we'll get in trouble."

Malfoy couldn't help but look relieved at this news, a sneaky look crossing his face as he stood up.

"And I won't forget it," Hermione added, enjoying his pained expression at her words. "I have to think of an animal for you."

Malfoy grumbled about this for a minute, ending with, "No ferrets, Granger."

"No ferrets," Hermione conceded, hiding a grin. "After all, there wouldn't be any Professor McGonagall to change you back this time."

He didn't answer, just giving her furious glares instead. Hermione poked her head out of the door first, making sure there was no one coming down the hallways. She gave one last look at the room before stepping out so Malfoy could follow.

"We never got to use that couch of yours. I suppose we'll have to do that next time," she commented. Her face flamed red when she realized the double meaning of her words, but for once, Malfoy didn't seem to have noticed.

He gave her a questioning look. "So is this where I meet you next time?"

Hermione considered for a moment, turning to glance back at the door. Malfoy hadn't done the Room any harm, and it had certainly been easier than working in the library. There was also less of a chance that they would be caught together. Plus, she could use his real name without the worry of being overheard.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah. You can practice other spells next time, too, and that way we won't have to put up with Madame Pince."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning pink.

"Thank you, Granger," he said abruptly, not meeting her eyes as he spoke. "I know you don't trust me, but you still let me transfigure you. It was really- helpful. Hermione," he added as an afterthought.

Hermione gazed at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before grinning. She opened her mouth to remark on his using her first name but decided against it at the last second. It she mentioned it he might stop using it on purpose- besides, he probably didn't want her commenting on it.

"You're welcome, Draco," Hermione said graciously. "I look forward to you returning the favor next time."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Granger."

Well, the name was a one-time thing, Hermione thought, sighing inwardly. But she still appreciated it. She gave him a patronizing glance as she moved past him down the hall. He followed her at a slower pace, until Hermione descended the stairs and she couldn't see him anymore. He hadn't been bad at human transfiguration, and he had kept his promise, she reasoned. Maybe, just maybe, Malfoy could be trusted to a certain extent after all.

* * *

Signs were posted in the Gryffindor common room a few days later announcing the first Hogsmeade trip would take place on the second Saturday before Halloween. This aroused great excitement among the older students as hormones had once again set in and couples were beginning to spring up all over the place. The first and second years listened eagerly as the older students related past experiences in Hogsmeade, ending with musings on what they would be doing this time and wistful sighs from the younger kids.

The only Gryffindor who did not seem to be reveling in stories of the famed village was Conrad Johnson. Everyone in Gryffindor knew his name by then, his reputation for being surly and rude preceding him. He could often be seen scowling at the groups of students sharing stories about Hogsmeade and more than once had stomped out of the portrait hole with a loud bang.

"What is his problem?" Ron muttered, throwing down his quill as they heard the loud BAM that signified Conrad's exit a week before the trip. "Harry wasn't allowed to go in third year, and he didn't make that much noise."

Hermione shrugged, trying to keep her face neutral. She bent lower over her parchment, scribbling out the last words of her essay. Capping her ink bottle, she blew on the wet ink before rolling up the essay.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked as she stood up.

Hermione waved her ink bottle at him. "I ran out. I'm going to get more from the student supply cupboard."

"I could use some, too," said Harry thoughtfully, standing up as well.

"No!" Hermione burst out. She blushed as the boys gave her strange looks. "You need to finish the essay for Potions! I'll fill it for you." She took the bottle from Harry, wincing at his bewildered expression. Hermione left the common room, not noticing the suspicious stare Ginny sent her way.

Once outside of Gryffindor she looked wildly for any sign of Malfoy. The halls were empty of short brunettes, though, and, acting on impulse, she ran toward the Great Hall. Though he was not on his way to the Slytherin chambers, as she'd expected he would be, he was pushing open the door leading to the grounds. Hermione hurried after him.

"Conrad!" she called in as quiet a voice as she could.

Malfoy swung around, scowling. "Wha- oh. It's you." Though he didn't smile, his thunderous expression lessoned slightly.

"Hi," said Hermione breathlessly, blinking in the afternoon light. She pulled him over to a hedge.

"Granger, what is it?" Malfoy demanded crossly, shaking his arm from her grip. "I'm really not in the mood-"

"Exactly," interrupted Hermione. "You're never in the mood! It's hard not to miss seeing you storm out of the common room every day. You need to calm down; people are getting suspicious."

Malfoy stared at her resentfully without saying a word.

Hermione tried again. "I know you're upset about not getting to go to

Hogsmeade-"

His eyes flashed. "I never said that!"

Hermione gave him a pitying look. "It's not hard to figure out." She sighed. "I know it's not fair that you don't get to go this year . . . but I can't fix that and neither can you. And in the meantime you're causing a whole lot of unnecessary commotion."

He was silent, staring at a point past her head. She bit her lip; she hadn't meant to make him feel bad, but his little temper tantrums were getting completely out of hand.

"I want to go," said Malfoy suddenly, his voice vague, as if he weren't speaking to her and was actually thinking out loud without realizing it. "It's not fair considering I really should be able to go. I haven't been to Zonko's or the Three Broomsticks in months." He paused, an expression of sadness crossing his face. "I miss butterbeer."

"I-" began Hermione. Her throat tightened, and she realized she didn't know what to say. She hadn't thought he would tell her how he was feeling. Wasn't that what his diary was for?

Her stutter seemed to bring Malfoy to his senses. He shook his head, his face impassive when he looked back at her.

"Have fun in Hogsmeade, Granger." He turned around without another word, walking away. This time Hermione knew she couldn't run after him. She watched him amble off in the direction of the lake, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. Somehow, Hermione was pretty sure she'd gotten through to him. It really was a shame, though, she decided as she walked back into the castle, that he was missing out on Hogsmeade. It had to be really hard to watch everyone else get excited about it when you couldn't go, even though you were "technically" old enough to go, too.

Hermione paused in the entrance. About to head back to Gryffindor, she remembered the ink bottles she was still clutching. She sighed. Hers wasn't really empty. It was a shame Harry had given her his. Now she actually had to go and get ink.

Hermione went in the direction of the student supply cupboard. She didn't mind refilling ink bottles, actually. The containers reminded her of muggle water coolers, complete with a spigot that would pour out all the ink she needed . . .

* * *

Back in Gryffindor Tower Ginny was standing at the window, gazing silently down at the grounds.

"What are you looking at, Gin?" asked Ron, squinting in perplexity at his Divination homework.

Ginny shifted restlessly. "Nothing."

Harry noticed the slight frown on her face and the way her eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't say anything, devoting his attention entirely to his Potions essay.

Ginny scowled at the figures outside. After a moment the girl went inside and the other person headed in the opposite direction. Ginny slowly moved away from the window, going back to her table a few feet away. If her eyes weren't deceiving her, she had just seen one of her best friends meeting with the weird first year.

And she didn't like it.

* * *

The 23nd was wonderfully clear and sunny, perfect weather for traipsing around Hogsmeade. It wasn't even cold out, just cool enough for a light cloak. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the day visiting their favorite stores; they bought candy in Zonko's and looked in on the Owl Post Office, ducking as various fluffy missiles shot past them on deliveries.

In late afternoon they finally decided to join the rest of Hogswarts at the Three Broomsticks. Being already overcrowded with students, it was fairly difficult to find an empty table, and the trio ended up finding themselves sitting with Ginny and Luna. Harry sighed in relief at finally being able to sit and get Sprink out of his pocket. The pixie had been a menace in Zonko's, shooting into candy barrels and knocking over huge displays of pumpkin pasties- they were the lucky the owners hadn't thrown them out of the shop.

Aqua, on the other hand, had been completely docile once Hermione had bought her a small cherry lollipop to eat. She was still sucking on it now even as Hermione put her on the table. It was immensely funny to watch as the treat was almost as big as the pixie herself. Aqua was constantly wobbling back and forth, giggling as she tried to maintain hold on her candy.

"Is every wizard in the world here today?" demanded Ron after catching his breath. He ducked under the table, rifling through his bag from Zonko's. He emerged holding three chocolate frogs and immediately began unwrapping one.

"Ron! You'll spoil your appetite," said Hermione disapprovingly as he crammed it into his mouth, letting the card drop onto the table. Sprink darted forward and grabbed it, chattering madly. After staring inquisitively at the picture for a moment, he began gnawing at it with his teeth.

Ron rolled his eyes. "'Ermi'a'ee, I'm 'ungry!"

"Who would've guessed," said Hermione dryly as Harry and Ginny smothered chuckles.

"It's not worth it, Hermione," commented Ginny, smiling affectionately at her brother. "Teenage boys have the appetites of whales." The smile on her face didn't seem to reach her eyes, though, as she looked at Hermione. She had been acting increasingly odd towards Hermione for the past few days, getting surly with her for no apparent reason and arguing over any small disagreement.

Harry, hoping it was hormones or some other feminine problem so he wouldn't have to deal with it, forced the chocolate frog out of Sprink's hands and scanned it. His eyes opened wide at the picture, and a feeling of surprise overwhelmed him.

"Who is it?" Ron asked in interest, seeing Harry's fixation on the card. Without waiting for an answer he looked around at the table, disappointed. "I need some butterbeer."

"Was the chocolate too much for you, Ron?" Hermione asked sardonically.

"Nope, just making absolute sure there's no room for dinner," he responded without missing a beat, grinning cheekily at her.

"It's Professor Evans," interrupted Harry, as Hermione opened her mouth to reply. Silence, as well as three pairs of curious eyes (Luna sill seemed to be unaware that they were even in the Three Broomsticks) met his announcement.

"What's it say?" Ron asked, reaching for the card. Harry, having already read it twice, handed it to him.

Ron read it aloud, a frown spreading across his face as he did. "Algernon Evans is famous for being an exceptional Auror during the time of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As well as being the first human to tame a wild griffin, he worked with the undercover squib Winston Churchill, and helped pass several anti-giant laws in the Ministry of Magic."

Ron stopped, slowly dropping his hand to the table. Harry watched as his stunned friends exchanged surprised, horrified glances.

"Professor Evans worked against the giants?" Ginny finally said, disbelief evident in her voice. Ron silently handed her the card for her to re-read, a frown creasing her forehead as she mouthed the unmistakable words.

"But he's Dumbledore's cousin," said Hermione in a hushed voice. "Why would he hate giants?"

"And who on earth is Winston Churchill?" Ron asked, snorting. "You don't think the card made him up, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, sharing an amused glance with Harry. "Ron, Winston Churchill was a famous prime minister of muggle England. He helped rebuild Germany after World War II. I didn't know he was a Squib, though," she mused thoughtfully. "I wonder how many other famous muggle heroes were actually wizards or Squibs."

Ron still looked skeptical. "And what exactly was the World War?"

Hermione shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "A horrific muggle war. There were two of them, actually. Loads of people died."

"Do you suppose Hitler was a wizard?" Harry thought aloud, the idea suddenly occurring to him at Hermione's words. "A sort of Death Eater, maybe?"

Hermione glanced at him, looking intrigued. "It would make sense."

Ron through up his hands. "Who is Hitler?"

Hermione sighed. "Never mind." Ron, seemingly satisfied at her answer, nodded, and picked up another chocolate frog.

"It still doesn't explain why Professor Evans doesn't like giants," continued Ginny after watching her brother stuff his mouth again.

"I would imagine he'd be of the same mind as Dumbledore about them," added Hermione. "Seeing as how they're cousins."

"Yes, well, just because they're related doesn't mean they have to think the same," Ginny argued, her tone suddenly frostier.

Hermione looked hurt, and Harry gave Ginny an angry, confused look. She merely glowered at the table, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Oh, yes, cousins, even siblings, rarely get along." They all looked at Luna in surprise, all of them having forgotten she was there.

"My uncle Tim says the Quibbler is a silly newspaper and nothing my father does is of any use," Luna continued, not seeming to notice their taken-aback expressions. "Of course, Father's always said he's jealous, and that's why he insults his business. After all, everyone knows the Quibbler is a magazine, not a newspaper." She stopped speaking, folding her hands serenely on the table and looking around at them, obviously done.

"And that makes all the difference," Hermione murmured, receiving a glare from Ginny.

"Let's ask Hagrid about it next time we have class," Ron mumbled, straining to get the words out around his chocolate.

Hermione gave a short, nervous laugh, still looking confused at Ginny's behavior. "Do you think we should? What if he doesn't like Professor Evans and gets mad?"

"Even if we don't ask Hagrid, I still want to know what Professor Evans had against the giants," Harry said, speaking at last. "It doesn't seem like him to be prejudiced."

"Yes, well, I can say the same about certain people and their viewings on house-elf labor," said Hermione, almost inaudibly. Harry was glad to see that Ginny couldn't resist cracking a small smile at Ron's utter lack of awareness of her words.

"Are you really going to eat three of those?" Luna asked suddenly, as Ron picked up his third chocolate frog. "You're stomach will hurt if you eat too much."

Hermione stood up as Ron opened him mouth to protest. "I quite agree," she said firmly, standing up and taking his arm. "Let's go get some butterbeer, so you're not tempted to eat all your Zonko treats before we even get back to the castle!" She pulled him from the table and marched him over to Madame Rosmerta, ignoring his feeble complaints.

Luna, spying the already opened chocolate frog, broke it into three pieces and divided it among herself, Harry, and Ginny. Immediately after she ate hers she resumed staring off into space as if nothing had interrupted her reverie. Harry stared at her, bemused, before eating the chocolate.

The wizard card of Professor Evans lay forgotten on the table, and he picked it up to look at again. The aged wizard was leaning against the cardboard backing, twirling his beard on his knobbly fingers and smiling good-naturedly. Even the picture didn't look like it belonged to a giant-hater. After a moment Harry pocketed it, reminding himself to make sure it was ok with Ron later. Harry eyed Ginny, wondering if he should confront her about her odd attitude towards Hermione. She seemed to be in a world of her own, though, staring into the distance at something she couldn't see, absent-mindedly sucking on the chocolate frog's legs.

In a moment Hermione and Ron had returned, laden with bottles of warm, tantalizing butterbeer. None of them mentioned the strange wizard card again, chatting about various school topics. Fifteen minutes later they were joined by Angelina and Katie, toting several shopping bags apiece.

"When's your first game?" Hermione asked, directing the question at Harry.

"Eight days," Angelina answered before he could open his mouth. "We're playing against Ravenclaw on Halloween. They should be easy to beat," she said confidently.

Katie jerked her chair, and Angelina gave a small yelp.

"What did- oh." A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she noticed Luna. "Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Pardon?" asked Luna, her eyes wide and vague. "Are you speaking to me?"

Angelina gave a small sigh, and the others exchanged relieved glances. "Never mind." Talk revolving around Quidditch continued for the next quarter of an hour. Seeing as how two thirds of the team, not to mention the co-captain, was present, there were several loud arguments over strategy and defense techniques.

Hermione, looking extremely put out that she'd brought the subject of Quidditch up in the first place, peered at her watch and stood, setting her empty bottle on the table. "I'm going to buy some more quills. Would anyone like to go with me?"

Ron got up as well, checking his bag and frowning. "Sure. I think I need to go back to Zonko's, too."

"Run out of chocolate frogs already?" Ginny teased. Ron, turning red, didn't answer.

"You know, I think I'll come, too," Katie said thoughtfully, fastening her cloak and looked around the pub. "It's getting awfully noisy in here."

"Hermione, would the store you're going to for quills sell magazines?" asked Luna, a far-away look in her eyes. "I want to see how this month's edition of the Quibbler is selling."

"I'm sure we could find a place that sells it- somewhere," Hermione managed after a moment of trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement. "Are you coming, Harry?"

He shook his head, an odd, inexplicable feeling urging him to stay.

"D'you mind if Sprink stays?" Ron asked, sounding relieved. "I really don't want to have to take him into Zonko's again." Harry nodded, and suggested that Hermione leave Aqua with him as well so the pixies would have a diversion to keep them from causing trouble.

"I'm still drinking my butterbeer," he heard Angelina tell Katie. "We'll find you guys in a few minutes." Harry shook his head to clear it, and when he looked up they had left, accompanied by Ginny. Angelina was the only one left at their table besides him.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them, as they alternately took turns sipping their butterbeer and staring at other customers. Sprink, sensing the discomfort in the air, seized the opportunity to try and fly into Harry's butterbeer bottle when he had put it back down on the table. The pixie made furious noises as his wings got stuck, leaving him suspended upside down in the bottle, its amber color disfiguring his features. Harry chuckled, eyeing the outraged pixie's face.

"Does he like butterbeer?" Angelina asked, looking at the stuck pixie with interest.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think he's ever had any. Sprink just likes causing mischief."

Angelina smiled. "Sounds like two Beaters I know . . ." They laughed, but soon the uncomfortable silence had returned. Aqua, seeing Sprink's plight, abandoned her lollipop and flew up to his level. She pushed on his back until at last the pixie tumbled into the last sips of butterbeer at the bottom of the bottle, screeching. He sat there, spluttering and shaking his head as little droplets flew all over the inside of the bottle. Aqua returned to the tabletop, peering in through the amber glass at Sprink. The pixie, after flying to the top and realizing he was trapped, began banging on the walls and howling, though it sounded like a tinny whistle though the glass. A smile played on Angelina's lips, and Harry wished he knew more about pixies so he could start a conversation and impress her with his knowledge. Unfortunately, he needed Hermione for that sort of thing.

"Are you going anywhere for Christmas?" Harry asked at last, unable to think of anything else to say.

Angelina gave him an amused glance. "I haven't thought about it seeing as how it's still two months away."

"Oh. Right." Harry felt his face get warm, and he ducked his head.

"But I'll probably go visit my parents," Angelina amended, seeing his obvious embarrassment. "You always stay here, right?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Except for last year. We went to Ron's house for Christmas." He didn't bother adding that it was because he had seen Mr Weasley attacked by a snake in a dream and they had gone to visit him in St. Mungo's. Angelina, whether she was ignorant of this or was simply choosing not to bring it up, was silent.

"Where do your parents live?" Harry asked, breaking the silence again. Only moments ago the pub had been filled with loud, raucous calls, but now it seemed as if the noise had been covered by a veil and only a few whispers could get through. It was almost as if he and Angelina were the only ones left in the Three Broomsticks.

"In London," Angelina replied instantly. "We go see the Nutcracker every year, and sometimes we go ice skating." She stopped speaking, looking abashed at having revealed details.

Harry smiled at the little pink spots that appeared in her chocolate-colored cheeks. Her curly black hair, which was usually done up in dozens of little braids, had been put in a wild, hasty bun. Little tendrils of unkempt hair floated around her face, and Harry found himself wanting to touch it, or maybe even say how pretty she looked with her hair kept moderately loose.

"Your hair looks nice today," he said at last. The compliment sounded silly and vague even to his own ears, but Angelina, thankfully, didn't seem to care.

"Usually it stays in for weeks, but I lost the hair potion I use to keeps the braids from coming out. It got all frizzy," she said regretfully, feeling her curly black locks and wincing. Angelina moved as if to put a hand over her mouth, looking mortified at confiding her hair troubles with him.

"I like it," Harry said honestly, and she smiled gratefully at him. A warm feeling, as if he'd just drunk ten bottles of butterbeer in a row, spread throughout him.

He cleared his throat, the thought of the drink making him yearn for more so the warm, bubbly feeling would stay. "Do you want more butterbeer? Or anything to eat? I might have some pumpkin pie," he rambled, standing up and trying to keep from going red.

Angelina nodded thoughtful. "Pumpkin pie sounds delicious." She made to get her purse.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said quickly, indicating his pockets. "I've got money."

Angelina seemed as if she wanted to argue for a minute and then shrugged. "Thanks. I'll take care of the pixies." She smiled again, and Harry was once more filled with the sensation of being bathed in warm butterbeer from head to toe. He pushed his way through the crowded tables to Madame Rosmerta and ordered their food.

"Are you sure you don't want to share a slice?" Madame Rosmerta asked slyly, eyeing Angelina in the corner. She grinned at Harry, raising her eyebrows.

Harry turned red, wondering briefly if this was perhaps what he should've done and then dismissed the thought. He and Angelina weren't dating which would make it rude to get only one slice and expect her to share it. They were simply talking together and having a snack. "I think two will be fine, thanks," he said, uncomfortably aware that his voice was cracking.

Madame Rosmerta smothered a chuckle, disappearing for a minute and returning with his order. "You're not very good at hiding things," she observed, seeing Harry's face.

Harry, at a loss for sensible words, quickly paid her and went back to their table. He was surprised and disappointed to see another boy had pulled up a chair to the table and was speaking to Angelina. She laughed at something he said, and, still smiling, noticed Harry.

"Hey, Harry! Remember, Clark from tryouts?" she asked in a rush, her eyes sparkling. Harry slowly sat, barely aware of the fact that Clark, smiling toothily, was holding out his hand. He shook it, murmuring the typical sentiments under his breath.

"Nice to meet you, Potter," Clark said. "You've been busy over the years."

"Huh?" Harry said blankly, before realizing Clark was referring to his adventures with Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts over the years. "Here's your pie," he said dully, handing Angelina her pumpkin pie. It took all of Harry's willpower not to demand what Clark was doing at their table.

"We were just talking about Quidditch," Angelina said, smiling at Clark again.

"I asked if you were still going to play with only two Chasers," Clark clarified.

"Yes, we are," Harry replied instantly, sounding more aggressive than he'd meant. Had Clark been trying to convince Angelina to appoint him as the third Chaser? Harry wondered, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"It's a remarkable idea," Clark continued, looking at Angelina as he spoke. "It seems a bit . . . rash, but I'm sure Katie and Jenny can manage it."

"Ginny," Harry corrected, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Clark flashed him another oily smile. "My mistake." He noticed Harry's first butterbeer bottle, his eyes widening at the sight of Sprink. The pixie was leaning against the glass, pouting.

"What is that?" Clark asked, his voice filled with ill-hid disgust.

"My pixie," said Harry grumpily. Sprink, as if aware he was being talked about, stood up and flew to the top of the bottle, beginning to screech again.

"Would you like any pie?" Angelina asked, not seeming to notice Harry's obvious displeasure.

"Just a bite," Clark conceded, and Angelina, laughing, handed him her fork.

Harry stood up, pushing his chair back with a bang. He swallowed his last bite of pie, wanting to spit it out at the same time. "I'm going to find Ron and Hermione," he said.

Angelina looked surprised. "But you didn't finish your pie."

"Clark can have it," Harry said. "Or I'll throw it out." He picked up the plate of half eaten pie and, without waiting for an answer, dumped it into the nearest trash receptacle. "I'll see you later," he said to Angelina, nodding indifferently at Clark. He grabbed the butterbeer bottle with Sprink in it, and let Aqua fly onto his shoulder, giving her back her lollipop once she was settled. Barely remembering to pick up his bags, Harry left the Three Broomsticks.

He walked moodily down the streets, a cold breezing tousling his hair. He glanced at shop windows, hoping to see any sign of Ron and Hermione. Why had Clark's appearance upset him so much? It was obvious that Angelina liked Clark a lot, Harry brooded, disliking the seventh year more and more every second.

"Oy! Harry!" At the sound of his name Harry turned around, feeling instantly comforted by the sight of Ron and Hermione coming out of Zonko's and waving to him.

"Where are the others?" he asked half-heartedly, handing Aqua back to Hermione.

"Katie went to find Angelina, and Ginny and Luna went back to the castle," Hermione replied. "What about you? Where's Angelina?"

"She's back at the Three Broomsticks with Clark," Harry said in resigned tones, too disheartened to try and remember Clark's last name.

"The git from tryouts?" Ron asked, looking disgusted. "What was he doing there?"

"They were talking about Quidditch," said Harry dryly, his mistrust evident in his voice.

"Don't worry about him," Ron said comfortingly as they began walking down the street. "He's just sucking up to her so she'll put him on the team. With your approval, of course," he added quickly.

"What's the matter if they're talking?" Hermione asked, looking confused. "Aren't they friends?" Ron shrugged, and Harry, since he didn't have any proof that they were anything more, reluctantly nodded.

"Are you jealous?" Hermione pressed, sounding amazed.

Harry reddened, scuffing his feet on the sidewalk. He didn't meet her questioning gaze, nor the stunned, disbelieving one on Ron's face.

"You are," Hermione marveled after a moment.

"I am not," Harry protested loudly.

"Then what's the fuss?" she asked reasonably.

Harry glared at her. "I just don't like Clark."

"We believe you, mate," Ron said, giving Harry a clap on the back. "There's nothing strange about you not liking Clark."

Harry nodded, not replying. As they walked on in silence, he replayed the last few minutes in his mind. Was Hermione right? he wondered. Was he really jealous of Clark and the way Angelina was constantly smiling and laughing around him, offering him her pie, flirting, even? Harry shook himself abruptly. Of course he wasn't jealous. Angelina was simply his friend, and she was allowed to like Clark, even if he was a conniving suck-up just as Ron had said he was.

"You're right, Ron," Harry said, trying not to sound as unnerved as he felt. "Clark's just a-"

"Harry!" As if on cue, Angelina, followed closely by Katie, rushed up to them, her frizzy black hair flying. Harry's breath caught quite suddenly in his throat, and he nearly choked.

"What was the matter back there?" Angelina asked, sounding genuinely worried. "Why did you leave?"

"The pumpkin pie was making me nauseous," Harry lied, shooting warning glances at Hermione, lest she say anything about their conversation. She simply beamed, though, her eyes flying back and forth between him and Angelina.

"Are you feeling ok, now?" Angelina asked sympathetically. "I thought it might be because you don't like Clark."

"Clark's fine," Harry lied again, his voice sounding fake. "It was just the pie."

Angelina smiled, looking relieved. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better. Are you going back to the castle, now?"

"Yes," started Harry just as Hermione said at the same time, "I have to stop in the Three Broomsticks for a moment." They stared at each other for a moment, and Ron snorted.

"What for?" Harry asked. "Weren't we just there?"

"I think I forgot my scarf," Hermione said smoothly, indicating her bare neck. "I just want to make sure it's not in there."

"We'll come with you," Harry said, bewildered at the nervous expression that crossed her face. His attention was quickly drawn away, though, by the one on Ron's face. He was very pale, his hair stark red in contrast.

Harry turned to see who or what he was looking at and for the second time in the last five minutes his breath caught in his throat. Cho Chang was walking down the street towards them, chatting with a group of her friends. She laughed, and the sound drifted over to them until it filled Harry's ears it was so vibrant and full of life.

He gaped openly at her, forgetting Angelina, Ron, and everyone else. Cho hadn't noticed him yet, but any second-

She looked up and their eyes met. The laugh on her lips died instantly and for a brief moment that seemed to stretch on for hours they simply stared at each other.

"Hey," said Harry at last, trying to ignore the hushed whispers of the other girls.

"Hi, Harry" replied Cho, blushing and sending a quick glance at her friends, as if hoping for an escape route. "It's nice seeing you."

"You, too."

Surprisingly, Ron broke the silence that followed. "Still a Tornado fan?" he asked.

Cho looked at him as if noticing him for the first time. A relieved smile lit up her face, and she turned away from Harry, her discomfort obvious.

"Yeah. You like the Cannons, right?"

Ron nodded eagerly. "They're the best. But the Tornades are good, too." Harry watched as they exchanged a few more pleasantries. He felt as if he were an outsider looking in. Since when had Ron become so comfortable around girls? Harry had always thought he was sort of . . . scared of them. And Ron had never said he'd liked the Tornados before. Harry noticed Angelina giving him strange looks and attempted a smile, but it was very forced and disappeared quickly.

"We were buying supplies for Marietta," Cho was telling Ron, who was listening with rapt attention. "She's not feeling well and had to stay at the castle."

"Oh." Ron looked slightly put out at the turn in the conversation.

"Is she the one with the spots on her face?" Angelina asked mildly.

There was a heavy pause. Cho slowly turned to stare at her coldly.

"Not anymore. They went away a few weeks ago. She's got a stomachache. That's all."

Angelina nodded sympathetically. "That time, eh?"

Cho turned bright red, staring furiously at her. "Marietta's simply got a cold!" She sniffed. "I don't see how it's any of your business anyway!" Both girls glared at each other, and Harry, glancing curiously from one face to the other, didn't know whether to laugh at Angelina's comment or apologize for it.

"We have to go now," Cho said, her voice still icy. She gave Ron a fleeting smile and shot another glance at Harry. For a moment she looked sad, her angry expression faltering. The next second, though, she had tossed her hair and begun walking away, beckoning her hushed friends to follow.

"Bye," Harry called, feeling it the only polite thing to do.

"See you," added Ron, giving half a wave at Cho's retreating back.

"Who was that?" Angelina asked at last, eyeing her distastefully. "She looked familiar."

"My old girlfriend," Harry said hollowly, missing the surprise on her face.

"And the Ravenclaw Seeker," Ron added.

"Well, I didn't like her very much anyhow," Angelina said off-handedly, as if her position on the opponent's team made all the difference. "Hello, Hermione," she said, greeting the brunette warmly as she appeared on the sidewalk.

"Did you find it?" Harry asked, his question answered when he looked at her neck and saw the red and gold fabric.

"What? Oh, yes, I did," Hermione said, a hand automatically going to her neck. "What's the matter?" she asked, seeing the mixed emotions on their faces.

"Cho was here," Harry replied. Hermione's eyes opened wide, but she wisely chose not to say anything, studying their faces instead.

"Marietta's spots are gone," Harry added. "Your spell lasted a while. They only went away a few weeks ago." Hermione couldn't keep from beaming.

Angelina looked impressed. "You did that? I thought she had an accident in Potions of something."

"It was because she squealed on the DA meetings, right?" clarified Katie. Harry nodded as the group began walking once more towards the castle.

The dislike on Angelina's face intensified. "That was the friend they were buying things for? I knew there was a reason I didn't like Jo."

"Cho," corrected Ron loudly. He pretended to be studying the ground when they looked at him in faint surprise. Harry turned away, pulling his cloak tighter against the chilly breeze circling the air. The sky had begun to grow dark violet with impending night. He wished he were back in Gryffindor common room where he didn't have to worry about people like Cho or Clark popping up at the most inconvenient times. Well, provided Clark stayed in his dorm, Harry amended. After all, they did share a common room.

As they neared a garbage can Harry realized he was still holding the butterbeer bottle. Wondering vaguely why it was still in his hand, he was about to throw it out when a shark squeal broke the evening silence. Aqua zoomed off of Hermione's shoulder and into Harry's face, shouting. She flew towards the bottle, jerking a finger at it.

"What's in it?" Ron asked, peering confusedly at the bottle.

"Sprink!" cried Harry, remembering his pixie. Without another word he tipped the bottle upside down and shook it until the very battered pixie tumbled into his hand. Sprink shook his head woozily, clambering to his feet and whirling around dizzily on Harry's hand. Everyone appeared to be stifling laughs except for Hermione, who looked aghast.

"You almost threw him out!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Sorry," said Harry weakly, wondering how he'd managed to forget his pixie. "I forgot he was in there."

"Not that I would've minded very much," said Ron, sounding amused as he took the pixie from Harry, "but I'm glad we don't have to tell Hagrid you threw Sprink into the garbage."

"Thank goodness Aqua remembered he was in there," Hermione said, eyeing the boys reproachfully and rubbing her pixie on the head affectionately.

Katie grinned suddenly. "That means she saved him. Perhaps she has a-"

"Don't even say it," burst out Ron, glaring furiously at Sprink as if it were somehow his fault Hermione's pixie was attracted to him.

"That would be cute," Hermione said wistfully, eying Aqua and Sprink with renewed interest.

"You could be inter-species matchmakers," joked Katie.

"Enough!" cried Ron, throwing up his hands in mock anger.

"We've still got practice tomorrow, right?" Angelina asked quietly, as the others continued talking about he pixies.

Harry nodded, more glad than ever they had decided to play with only two Chasers. "I'm looking forward to it." He smiled at her, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that she was smiling back. Suddenly, their run-in with Cho didn't seem so worrying, and Hermione and Ginny's private fight faded to the back of his mind. Harry couldn't help noticing Angelina really did have a beautiful smile.