Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 10
Friends, Crushes, and Quidditch

Hermione had been thinking about what kind of animal she would transfigure Malfoy into all week long, and by the time she had reached the Room of Requirement Wednesday evening, she was pretty sure she'd decided. Malfoy was already seated on the couch when she arrived. The Room, Hermione was pleased to see, remained exactly the same as it had been last time, except for the portraits on the wall, which had changed.

"Good evening, Draco," she said, giving him her standard 'I-don't-like-being-here-but-I'll-look-happy-anyway' smile, the smile she reserved for him. Hermione hated speaking to him as though they were friends, but she was determined to ease the tension and make their meetings more comfortable. If that involved being on a first name basis, then so be it.

He mumbled a hello back and then glanced away, appearing somewhat embarrassed that she was being friendly. As Hermione sat at the table and rearranged her materials, she snuck peeks at him. Malfoy was likewise giving her sideways glances.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked brightly, fingering her wand.

Malfoy cleared his throat, still looking furtive. "Yeah." He moved to give her a pile of papers.

Hermione grinned, her suspicions proved correct. "Don't think I forgot our little deal."

Malfoy gave a nervous cough. "W-what?"

"I get to transfigure you," Hermione reminded him. "Remember?"

He desperately searched the room, as if looking for an escape. "Are you sure you still want to-"

"Of course," said Hermione firmly, amused at his dismayed expression. "I've even picked the animal.

"Remember, no-"

"Ferrets," Hermione finished, unable to keep from grinning as he winced. She paused, expecting him to speak. When he merely flushed at her stare, she sighed.

"Don't you want to know what animal?"

"Not really," he said bluntly. He frowned. "Shouldn't I get to choose? You got to choose when I transfigured you into a cat."

Hermione bit her lip. She knew he had a point, but she'd been waiting all week to try out this particular animal in transfiguration. It was something they'd never done in class before- which, Hermione quickly realized, was probably not a detail she should share if she wanted to get her way.

"Let me at least tell you what I was going to do," she cajoled, doing her best to imitate Lavender and Parvati whenever they were trying to convince a boy of something.

"Are you smiling at me, Granger?" Malfoy asked, his tone filled with disgust.

"If you don't let me tell you I'll flutter my eyelashes as well," Hermione said in her highest pitch, smiling prettily as she tried to keep from choking on her words.

Malfoy sighed irritably. "All right, what is it?"

Hermione beamed, wondering if perhaps her two fellow female Gryffindors weren't quite as crazy about persuasion techniques when it came to boys as she'd always thought. Perhaps she could learn a few things by staying up and listening to their gossip at night.

"A hawk," she announced proudly, eager to see his reaction.

Malfoy immediately opened his mouth, but his eyes stopped rolling halfway through the process. His jaws still slightly agape, he gave her a cross-eyed glance. Abruptly he shut his mouth.

"That actually doesn't sound too horrific," he remarked, sounding intrigued. He looked up hastily. "Just so you know, that wasn't a compliment."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, just as close as you'll ever be to giving me one."

Looking reassured, he continued, his manner and tone giving the appearance of him more talking to himself that to her. "Birds are all right- hawks are majestic. How well does it usually end up in class?"

Hermione winced, her mind racing as she stalled for time. "Er, hawks are . . . good."

He gave her a very matter of fact look. "You've never done them, have you." It wasn't a question so she didn't answer. He sighed. "Granger, do you really think I want to be the first person you practice an hawk transfiguration on? I mean, it's got feathers and a beak-"

"You practiced on me," Hermione protested, doing her best to sound hurt. "You'd never tried the spell before either, and I have a lot more reason not to trust you. Besides, you'd get to fly."

"If I want to fly I can use a broomstick."

"Yes, but imagine having your own wings!"

"I don't know what strange fantasies you think I might have, Granger, but having wings isn't one of them!"

"Besides, I've practiced lots of kinds of animals, so a bird really shouldn't be that much harder-" she continued, ignoring his arguments.

"Yes, but birds aren't even mammals-"

"As I said, I've had lots of experience-"

"But have you done a bird before?" he pressed, looking determined.

Hermione faltered, unable to lie. "Well, not exactly." There was a heavy silence while he contemplated her reply and she waited, feeling very disappointed. She hadn't expected him to put up a fight or even ask questions. She'd thought Malfoy would approve of her choice.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a very loud, exaggerated sigh.

"All right, Granger," Malfoy said, speaking as though it was a humungous sacrifice. "You can turn me into an hawk. Even though you've never done it before. And you've never done birds before, either. Since you let me transfigure you, I suppose it's only fair to return the favor."

"Yes!" Hermione cried triumphantly, clapping her hands and springing up from the chair. She squashed the urge to hug him. While that was what she would have done if it had been Harry or Ron, this was Malfoy, and she hardly thought he would appreciate such close bodily contact, not to mention what she thought of the idea.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "That's very noble of you." It was an abominable exaggeration and bordered on being laughable, but he looked gratified anyway. Perhaps his view of self-importance really wasn't an act, Hermione mused briefly, as he accepted her thank you with a nod. He settled back on the couch, putting his hands behind his head, and lifting his legs so he was in a lounging position.

Obviously he wasn't planning on sharing the couch.

Which was perfectly fine with her.

"I'm going to transfigure you now," Hermione reminded him, gesturing to the chair next to her.

Malfoy gave her an inquisitive look. "Yes, I know."

"Are you sure you want to stay on the couch?" she asked, eyeing the fuzzy white cushions pointedly. "I doubt a bird can stand on that."

If possible, his nose seemed to point even higher in the air. "I'll manage." Hermione sighed, deciding not to argue. If he wanted to be completely wedged in the cushions once he was a hawk, it was perfectly fine with her, just as long as she got to laugh.

Hermione raised her wand. "Acelias accipiter."

The change was almost immediate. He seemed to shrink into himself, losing his facial features temporarily before they reformed. His nose seemed to blend in with a bill, though, and for a moment Hermione was afraid she'd messed up the spell like he'd predicted she might- luckily, his features had soon shifted sufficiently enough for her to be satisfied that the spell was at least partially working. His brown hair seemed to meld with the feathery down of a bird's, and his eyes . . . Hermione was amazed to see they had changed to a striking gray, not unlike his own natural color. She shook these thoughts away, tearing her gaze away from his piercing one.

In the brief moment she had been studying his eyes Malfoy's fingers had changed to golden-brown feathers, his arms wide, sweeping wings. It was over within a few seconds, and his new figure made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.

Despite his fearsome, repellent personality, Malfoy did make a majestic hawk. When he casually ruffled his wings, Hermione was shocked to see the length of his wingspan was nearly as long as the couch. And the way he cocked his feathered crown, shooting an intense, impassive glance towards her, made her feel almost as nervous as she did when a particularly tough teacher, in other words Snape of McGonagall, was delivering strict orders to the class.

Malfoy stared almost regally back at her for a moment more before lifting his head imperiously in the air, fluttering his wings one more time, and taking a step onto the next cushion.

Just as Hermione had predicted, he promptly got one of his legs wedged into the crevice between the cushions and fell over, letting out a piercing, and quite uncomely shriek. Hermione couldn't resist giggling a tiny bit as he struggled to right himself. Unfortunately for Malfoy, wings were not the best substitutes for hands when it came to pushing one's self off the ground. She rocked back on her chair in mirth for a moment before noticing the heated glare he was sending her way.

Hermione gave one last chuckle, smiling guiltily. "Are you all right?"

Malfoy opened his mouth indignantly but all that came out was a loud, tearing cry. He seemed just as surprised as Hermione was.

This time it was quite hard to suppress laughter. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Hermione choked out around her smothered giggles. She tried to look properly shamed at his annoyed expression, but it was rather hard since he was still half-lying on a wing, his talons caught uselessly in the couch.

He let out another angry squawk, obviously not about to let his inability to speak deter him from his purpose.

Hermione waited patiently for him to stop "speaking" before replying in turn. "Would you like a little bit of help with that?" she asked with as much politeness as she could. Malfoy drew himself up, though it was even less impressive in hawk form than it was in his eleven year old body. Deciding she would allow him all the dignity he still had left, Hermione leaned forward without waiting for answer and pulled as gently as she could on his wings. He was propelled off the couch and into the air, letting out such a tremendous racket Hermione dearly hoped the Room of Requirement was thoroughly soundproofed. Malfoy caught himself in midair, flying madly up to the ceiling and stopping just short of hitting it. Hermione leaned back in her chair, holding a tawny feather from one of his wings. She stared at it for a moment before glancing up at him. Malfoy, unaccustomed to flying without a broom, was beating his wings rapidly in the air to keep from falling.

"You know," said Hermione casually. "I'm pretty sure hawks can glide. That's one of their distinguishing features." She watched, amused, as he slowly gained control of his wings. When he had managed to successfully hover a few feet above the floor, Hermione gave him a polite round of applause. Judging from the glare he gave her, he didn't appreciate it.

"Would you like me to change you back now, or were you considering making this your permanent shape?" Hermione asked, maintaining her polite tone and appearance while struggling not to grin. "I do somewhat prefer you this way seeing as how you can't talk."

He gave a sharp cry, that she judged as part a "yes" to her question and part a "rude insult" to her latter comment. Seeing as how he really couldn't answer and it really was unfair to tease him when he couldn't retaliate, Hermione didn't reply.

She held up her wand, a frown flickering over her face as she glanced up at him.

"Er, you might want to come down. I'm changing you back and you'll probably fall when you lose your wings." Malfoy, looking very annoyed that she was right and there was no way to ignore her words without hurting himself in the process, flew sullenly back to the couch, more specifically, the armrest. Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the wary, suspicious looks he was sending towards the cushions.

She performed the counter-spell and watched as Malfoy resumed his normal shape.

Well, he looked like an eleven year old again, at least.

Malfoy balanced precariously on his knees on the couch's armrest, wobbled dangerously and tumbled over the side onto the couch. Hermione laughed outright as he popped back up, his round, young face filled with child-like surprise and indignance.

"You're feeling particularly graceful today, aren't you, Draco," Hermione commented as he climbed huffily back to his feet.

As Malfoy brushed himself off, picking absent-mindedly at non-existent pieces of lint on his robes and muttering obscenities, Hermione studied him. As he turned his head she caught sight of his eyes. They were back to blue, no longer gray. Hermione felt a sudden rush of sympathy. If she were in his position, she would at least hope to have her normal eye color; after all, judging by the late-night whispered conversations between Parvati and Lavender she'd overheard, Malfoy's striking gray eyes had been his best feature. Not that she'd ever paid close attention to them, of course.

"What?" he demanded, noticing her gaze. Though his voice had a rough edge to it, his face didn't reflect anger, or even annoyance.

Hermione shook herself, swiftly regaining her composure. "That worked nicely, didn't it?"

He opened his mouth, and, after being unable to find anything uncomplimentary to say, nodded reluctantly. "You didn't mess up," he said grudgingly.

Hermione gave him a prim smile. "Birds aren't that different from mammals."

Malfoy frowned suddenly, perching himself on the armrest. "Was that the first time you transfigured someone completely?"

His question caught her off guard. Hermione frowned, recalling past transfiguration classes. At last she nodded. "Yes."

Malfoy didn't say anything, but he looked troubled. Hermione averted her eyes. There was some implication to his words- but neither she, and from the looks of it him as well, knew what it was.

"Are there any spells you want to practice?" Hermione asked, leisurely getting to her feet. "There isn't a lot to teach you this week- we're doing variations of spells in class, nothing new, really."

He was silent for a moment. "I- I'd like to try a Patronus," Malfoy said in a soft, unsure tone. Hermione didn't let her surprise show. She hadn't expected him to try a Patronus yet. Somehow, the spell seemed to be Harry's specialty, and considering it was one of their last lessons in the DA, it didn't seem to be something a Slytherin would do. Malfoy had never even guessed at what his Patronus would be.

"That's sounds good," Hermione said, gripping the back of the chair she'd been sitting in. "The incantation is-"

"I know what it is," Malfoy interrupted, an edge in his voice. "I've heard it before in the common room."

Suddenly it dawned on Hermione why Malfoy seemed so agitated. Not only was he nervous about trying the new complicated spell, he also knew that Patronuses were Harry's forte. It didn't help that the two competed in everything, Hermione reflected. Harry had always been better in Quidditch, he was famous, reasonably popular, and the two had a mutual feeling of hatred toward the other. She supposed it was natural that Malfoy was feeling apprehensive about performing an advanced spell that his school nemesis had mastered years ago. Doubtless, it was another thing Harry would be better at.

She saw him take several sideways glances at her, taking deep breaths and repeatedly lowering and raising his wand.

"Don't be ner-" Hermione began.

He silenced her with a cold look. Hermione abruptly shut her mouth, staring down at the carpet. She only looked up when she heard him cast the spell.

A small silver shape shot out of Malfoy's wand. It hovered briefly in between them, its shimmering form shifting into unrecognizable shapes, before it vanished into vapor. Malfoy gave a loud exhale, sounding very discouraged.

"That was good," Hermione said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. "Most students didn't produce anything on their first try." She didn't add that a good number of the Gryffindors had begun practicing the previous year and were already familiar with it by the time they started the spell in class.

Malfoy didn't acknowledge her words and gripped his wand tighter, his face white. "Expecto Patronum!"

The white mist that blossomed from his wand had more of a figure; at least, Hermione thought the odd ball-shaped protrusion was a head. And there was a long, skinny appendix at the end that looked like it might be a tail. She pointed them out to him, and was relieved that he looked a little less tense.

He performed the spell twice more but while various appendages were visible during different tries, whatever sort of creature his Patronus was had yet to be discerned. Hermione knew for sure, though, that it wasn't a snake, as she had more or less seen what appeared to be a paw during the last incantation. She had been almost positive a snake was what Malfoy had wanted- and she had assumed that was what it would be. After determining it was some small, furry creature, Hermione had a very foreboding feeling in her stomach that his Patronus might end up being a ferret, which she knew for a fact he would not like.

Malfoy seemed to be having the same thoughts, for he looked at his wand in disgust and gave it a good shake. He raised it, preparing to try again.

"You should really stop," Hermione intervened, noting his white face, which was even paler than normal. His forehead was shining from sweat, his hair plastered to his head.

"Patronuses take a lot of energy," Hermione reminded him. "And yours have been very good so far."

"I'm fine," said Malfoy stubbornly, keeping his wand aloft. "Expe-"

"Draco." Hermione's tone was firm, and for once Malfoy was surprised into looking straight at her. She placed her hands on her hips, giving him a stern look. "If you were practicing on a real Dementor you would've passed out by now."

"How do you know?" he argued. "Just because Potter fainted in third year doesn't mean I would." He cast a scornful glance around the room. "There aren't even Dementors here."

"I still don't want to risk you passing out," Hermione said severely. "I have no intention of carrying you to the hospital wing, and I don't have chocolate."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You eat chocolate if you encounter a Dementor, not if you're practicing the protection spell."

Hermione frowned, pretending she hadn't heard. "Besides, I still need to give you your assignments. You can practice more next time. Sit." She pointed at the closest chair. He glared at her, marched over to the table, and sat down. With his arms and legs crossed and what seemed like a permanent scowl on his face, Hermione couldn't help but be amused.

"You're really cute when you're angry," Hermione commented, meaning it to be a joke. Looking at his face, though, she was surprised to see there was some truth in her words.

Malfoy looked stunned for a moment, but then a small smirk formed. "Granger, I can't believe you said that. You know I'm never going to let you forget it when I'm back to my normal body."

"I meant little-boy cute," Hermione amended quickly, blushing fiercely. She flipped open her books, not meeting his eyes. She could feel Malfoy's gaze on her and was unnerved by the fact that he could sense her discomfort.

When her routine explanation of what the homework was, and his routine grumbling about missing everything interesting had ended, they sat in amiable silence. Hermione, having finished her essays early and already done the assigned reading, was meticulously writing Aqua's name out on parchment for the excited pixie to look at. Malfoy was alternately flipping through The Essential Charms For An Orderly Kitchen, by Marta Steward and giving loud, frustrated sighs.

"Why on earth are we learning cooking spells and cleaning charms?" he asked, sounding very grieved. "This is Charms class, not Home Hec."

Hermione stifled a grin. "I think you mean Home Ec."

He gave her a blank look. "That's what I said. That class muggles take in school."

"It's called Home Ec.," Hermione repeated. "For Home Economics. You learn sewing, cooking, how to manage a budget and take care of a baby . . ."

"Yes, because when I decided to take the O.W.L. Charms class, I was really interested in learning how to take care of a baby," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And the word 'budget' doesn't exist in Malfoy vocabulary." He looked highly affronted by the mere thought of it.

"I think what we're learning is useful-"

"Granger, I highly doubt that I will ever ne-"

"Hermione."

"As I was saying, Hermione, I highly doubt that I will ever need to know how to peel potatoes, or whatever the nonsense is Flitwick calls our 'curriculum'." He gave her a familiar smirk. "Besides, you think everything we learn is interesting, Granger. Except for Divination, of course."

"How did you know I don't like Divination?" Hermione asked, surprised.

His smirk grew. "The tale of Hermione Granger giving up and storming out of the Divination Tower is legendary."

Hermione couldn't help but grin. "What about learning how to handle your money wisely?" she asked, going back to their discussion on Charms. Not everyone is as rich as you. Besides, wouldn't it be nice to know how to cook something if you're hungry?"

Malfoy sniffed imperiously. "Well, what do you think have house-elves for?"

Ten minutes later he was looking very sorry indeed he'd insulted house-elves. He groaned as Hermione launched into another tirade about the unfair treatment of magical creatures as a whole.

"Granger, I don't care if werewolves are underprivileged because of circumstances they can't control-"

"And centaurs are treated like wild animals that need to be kept in stables-"

"Nor do I care that house-elves aren't entitled to their magical powers-"

"And if wizards paid a little more respect to their fellow magical beings-"

"Granger, I could care less about spew!"

"It's S. P. E. W.! Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!"

"I may be going insane because I think I'm starting to agree with Weasley! You're mental when it comes to house-elves!"

Hermione stopped to catch her breath. "Teenage wizards are the most useless, narrow-minded, prejudiced people I've ever met!"

Malfoy glared. "And you're the most obstinate, opinionated, loud-mouthed witch I've ever had the misfortune of meeting."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They glared at each other, each breathing heavily. In the next few seconds their heated argument replayed itself in Hermione's mind, and she grinned

"So I'm obstinate, am I?" she asked him, still smiling.

He nodded sheepishly. "And opinionated, not to mention you wouldn't shut up about house-elves." He paused, and his smile grew. "You called me useless and narrow-minded!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You called me loud-mouthed." He rolled his eyes without replying. Hermione felt a familiar rush of . . . she didn't know what. It was a curious sensation, though. It felt like she was joking or laughing with Harry or Ron. But this is Malfoy, she thought, shocked at the similarities. No, he's Draco, now, her other side argued. At least, sometimes he is. A moment later she realized what else seemed so different.

"You're smiling," she marveled, staring at him. "You're really smiling." His expression froze, the said smile faltering.

Hermione grinned wider, hoping she hadn't ruined his good mood. "It's just- the first time I've ever seen you really smile- when you're not making fun of us that is."

"No, when I make fun of you I smirk," Malfoy corrected in a teasing voice, after regaining his composure. He gave her an example, but his eyes twinkled, and once again she saw the unfamiliar upward twitch of the lips. It was amazing, Hermione contemplated, what a little playfulness could do.

"I like it better when you smile than when you smirk," said Hermione quietly, looking him in the eye.

Malfoy looked at a loss for words. "I-." He stopped, unable to say more. He cast a helpless glance around the room and then looked down at his formerly scorned textbook for refuge. His eyes weren't moving, though, and Hermione knew he wasn't really reading it.

She took a deep breath, wishing they could go back to the playful banter from a few minutes ago. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He shifted, still looking down at the table. "I'm fine," he lied, the misgiving in his voice betraying him.

Hermione smiled weakly, but he still didn't look up. She reached down and dug around into her bag.

"Draco," she said softly after she'd found her prize. He reluctantly glanced at her, and his eyes widened when he saw what she was holding.

"I brought back butterbeer for you," said Hermione awkwardly, holding out one of two bottles. He took it hesitantly, and popped the cap off when she nodded encouragingly. Hermione opened her own bottle and took a refreshing sip. Instantly some of her worries vanished, and she felt a surge of strength course through her. She was gratified to see that Malfoy was taking a long draught, his head tilted all the way back.

"That's delicious," he said at last, after wiping the foam off his lips. He gave her a questioning glance. "Why?"

"You said it was one of the things you missed most," Hermione said quietly, "And I thought you deserved a treat." She took another sip, flushing at his solemn gaze.

"Thank you," he said after a moment. "That was thoughtful of you." The words were carefully planned and almost impersonal but she could hear the sincerity in them.

Hermione shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. "It was easy to get them. I pretended I left my scarf in the Three Broomsticks. I'm glad you like it."

They continued drinking in silence for the next few minutes, until both their bottles stood empty on the table. Then Hermione began to tell Malfoy all that had happened in Hogsmeade, trying to mention Harry and Ron's names as little as she could. He laughed when she told him how Sprink had almost been thrown out, but Aqua had saved him just in time.

"You're a smart pixie," he told her warmly, picking Aqua up and bringing her to his eye-level. She strutted about his palm for a minute, fluttering her wings and preening herself in acknowledgement of the compliment. When Hermione had finished her story there was once again silence.

At last Malfoy stood up. "I should probably go. I have to do some first-year homework." He seemed to try smiling again for her benefit, but it was lopsided and false.

Hermione smiled at his attempt, but luckily he didn't notice her amusement.

"Thank you for the butterbeer," he said again, and this time a genuine smile flickered across his face. "I really enjoyed it." He feigned checking in his bottle for pixies before laughing and tossing it into a trash can that suddenly appeared next to the door. Hermione laughed and threw hers out, too, and gathered her belongings. Malfoy held the door open for her on her way out.

"Night, Draco," Hermione called softly as she headed for the stairwell and he closed the door with a soft click.

He gave her an odd, lingering look. "Bye, Hermione," he said, her name a whisper.

Hermione shivered as she walked down the steps, wrapping her cloak tighter around her. Instinctively she knew that things would be much different with Draco from then on. It was almost as if the old, arrogant Malfoy had faded away much as his blonde hair had; instead, a funny, considerate Draco was left, a young boy who was badly in need of a friend.

And, to Hermione's surprise, that was exactly what Draco was starting to become.

* * *

Harry awoke early on Halloween morning. He lay in bed for a few minutes, pondering on his dream, in which he'd been flying on his broomstick, chasing after a laughing girl with dark hair who was also on a broomstick. They had been having a friendly game of chase, if he recalled correctly. Something about her made his heart seemed to pound louder, and for a moment he tried to go back to sleep so he could return to the dream and discover the identity of the girl.

A second later Harry had leapt to his feet, thoughts of Quidditch, Chasers, and Snitches springing to his unfocused mind. He dressed quickly and quietly left, trying not to disturb the other boys. He hurried down the steps and out of Gryffindor common room, eager to go outside and check the conditions. Harry felt a sense of pride as he imagined himself studying the various aspects of the weather and then reporting back to his teammates, just as Oliver Wood and Angelina had when they had been Captain.

Harry pushed open the great doors and ran down the steps and onto the soft, dewy grass. There were a few scattered clouds in the sky and a few gray ones over the Forbidden Forest, but Harry still smiled. He could hear his heart pounding in nervous anticipation of the oncoming game. His teammates would be awake soon, and then it'd be off to breakfast, where it would be Harry's turn to coach them into eating; after that it would be off to the changing rooms and time for his pre-game pep talk.

Brief panic overwhelmed Harry as he realized he had not planned anything to say, and suddenly it was harder to remember all that Oliver had said in his years at Hogwarts. Harry crossed the grass to the Quidditch field, looking for inspiration. He surveyed the bright, shining green of the field, the empty stands in which ghosts of cheering students were already filling his mind's eye, and the three majestic goals at their end of the arena. Harry pictured Ron flying determinedly around, maybe pinching himself every few moments in case sleep were near; Ginny and Katie were swooping around the field, darting under Ravenclaw players and stealing the Quaffle from under the opponents' noses; Jack and Andrew would be hitting the Bludgers as hard and fast as they could; and he, Harry, would be soaring around looking for the Snitch, the tiny ball that a win for Gryffindor ultimately depended on.

Harry saw all him teammates flying, and Angelina pacing on the ground nervously, shouting up comments of encouragement and advice that would be drowned out in the roars from the spectators, and he turned around; suddenly, he had a clear idea of what he would say.

* * *

After Hermione had wished them good luck and given them both hugs, Harry and Ron started for the changing rooms, where the rest of the team was already waiting for them. They didn't speak on the way there, both of them too nervous to speak. This was their first Quidditch game of the season, the first game for Harry to be Captain, and their first game with only two Chasers; it seemed an awful lot of firsts for one game.

In the changing room Harry surveyed his teammates. Katie was seated on the bench, a blank, detached expression on her face; Ginny looked slightly green. Jack and Andrew were toying nervously with their brooms, and Ron was staring out the window at the pitch. Angelina paced up and down the back of the room. Harry caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile. She grinned back sheepishly.

Harry cleared his throat, and instantly all eyes were on him. "Well, team, this is our first game." He winced as he realized how pompous and idiotic he sounded. "We're doing something no other team at Hogwarts has attempted before," Harry continued. "We're playing with two Chasers, both of whom are terrific fliers. I think we can win, especially after all the time we've put into practicing. Jack and Andrew are both strong, fast Beaters." The two boys beamed proudly at the compliment.

"Ron's a fantastic Keeper, even more so when there aren't girls around." He gave the redhead a grin, good-naturedly acknowledging the annoyed, playful grumblings he got in return. "And we'll always have Angelina for our own Gryffindor cheerleader." Angelina scowled at him, and Harry grinned as the others laughed. She struggled to keep from smiling, but couldn't help but beaming a little.

Harry took a deep breath, and looked straight at Ginny and Katie. "Good luck. You two are great. I know you can do it."

"And you're a great Seeker," Ginny said, as they all stood and prepared to leave.

"The best," Ron said, grinning widely, and the rest of the team chimed in their approval.

"I've noticed Captains never mention themselves in their speeches," Katie said, grinning mischievously. "Oliver and Angelina usually didn't, and you just forgot yourself." Harry turned red as the three girls laughed. Silently, his stomach knotting itself, he turned towards the door and exited, his teammates following.

There was a roar from the crowd as the Gryffindor team emerged onto the field, brooms in hand and determination on their faces. Harry mounted his broom and as one his teammates followed suit. The Ravenclaw players, clad in blue, were waiting in the center of the field with Madame Hooch. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he saw a familiar, glossy black-haired head hovering a few feet off the ground. With a sinking heart he realized he had forgotten that Cho would be playing. How could he have been so stupid, Harry berated himself, panicking slightly as Cho glanced his way. Her eyes searched the Gyffindor team before finding him. She gave him a small, sad smile and then held up crossed fingers. Harry, relieved that she wasn't crying and was actually acting friendly for once, mouthed "good luck" and gave her a thumbs up.

Harry approached Madame Hooch, where Ravenclaw's captain, Roger Davies, was waiting to shake hands. Harry eyed the older boy and tried to keep from looking nervous. Not only did the other captain look confident and assured, Cho had mentioned during their Valentine's date the previous year that the seventh year had asked her out. Harry, while he wasn't jealous, couldn't help feeling slightly protective of Cho and wary of Davies; after all, Cho had been his old girlfriend and supposedly this had been the "competition."

"May the best man win," said Davies, flashing a Harry a wide grin. Harry nodded mutely, shaking the Ravenclaw's hand before returning to his team. Davies had sounded like he was awfully sure he was the best man.

"Let's get them," Harry said grimly. "We can beat Ravenclaw."

"Of course, we can," Angelina said easily, like there was never any doubt. She leaned over to Harry and said confidentially, "Since I'm training to be the new flying teacher I'm technically not supposed to take sides, but- well, you know who I'm rooting for." She gave him a swift hug that Harry half-hoped would last longer, and gave the rest all pats on the back as they mounted their brooms. Angelina walked over to Madame Hooch to stand beside her, the perfect image of an unbiased innocent.

Harry grinned at her as his broom rose. He saw Madame Hooch bring out the Quaffle and through the corner of his eye he saw his teammates' brooms rise. He heard the whistle blow. Instantly Katie shot forward and grabbed the Quaffle. From there she sped away toward the Ravenclaw end with Ginny and enemy Chasers streaking after her. Harry grinned again and flew higher, scanning the pitch for the Snitch.

As he soared through the sky he tried to keep himself only a few yards above the rest of the players, much lower than he normally flew in games. Not only was he searching for the Snitch, Harry was also paying attention to the rest of the game, particularly how Ginny and Katie were playing.

At the beginning of the game the Ravenclaws had looked skeptical when they'd learned the Gryffindor team was only playing with two Chasers; now, they didn't look half as cocky. Much to Harry's delight, Katie had scored two goals in the first ten minutes, and Ginny pulled their lead up to thirty when she looped the Keeper and put the Quaffle through the left hoop. Ron, while still noticeably nervous, looked much more confident than he had at the start of fifth year; Gryffindor's win against Ravenclaw in the last game of the previous season seemed to have inspired him. Though the Ravenclaw Chasers were excellent fliers and players, none of them had managed to get the Quaffle past Ron yet, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Harry suspected part of their luck was also due to the fact that Ginny and Katie were playing so aggressively that the Ravenclaw Chasers hardly ever had the Quaffle to begin with.

Harry flew towards Gyffindor's end of the pitch, scanning the air for the Snitch. He saw Cho flying below him, her eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. For a moment he half-hoped that maybe she was watching him because of old feelings- but Harry knew better. Just as she had in the first game he'd played against her, Cho was tailing him in case he saw the Snitch.

Seeing a glint of gold near the grass in the center, Harry sped after it. He heard a groan from the crowd and looked up to see Ron holding the Quaffle and looking disappointed. He heard Seamus Finnigan, the new commentator, say, "Forty-ten Gyffindor." Harry looked quickly for Ginny and Katie. He saw the girls exchange a brief glance before flying forward to take the Quaffle from Ron. The glint of gold turned out to be an earring in the sand, which Harry made a mental note to tell Angelina about in case it was one of the girls'. Angelina gave him a thumbs-up as he passed her, and Harry grinned back in return, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt. Katie was flying slower, and the Ravenclaw players, realizing Ginny was at a disadvantage because she was smaller than everyone else, took to blocking her so Katie couldn't pass the Quaffle. Harry heard a loud cheer from the Ravenclaw end; the score was now forty-twenty.

"C'mon, Gryffindor! You've only got two Chasers but you're doing magnificently!" Seamus roared into the microphone, waving a fist in the air.

"Mr. Finnigan, unbiased comments, please!"

"Yes, Professor. Swerve 'em, Ginny!"

Harry watched happily as Ginny shot up higher into the sky just as a Bludger came barreling at her from one side and a Ravenclaw Chaser from the other. The Bludger hit the Ravenclaw player, and Ginny, protected by Katie, scored another goal. Harry, seeing Cho flying at the other end of the pitch, resumed his search for the Snitch, berating himself for getting side-tracked.

Fifteen minutes the score was 80-60 Gryffindor. Harry, stealing a glance at his Chasers, was unnerved to see that Ginny was looking extremely worried, and Katie kept on shooting nervous glances down at Angelina, who looked equally tense. The evident slouch in Ron's shoulders showed his anxiety, and even Andrew and Jack seemed to sense that Ginny and Katie were starting to tire. Harry urged his Firebolt to go faster, zooming around the pitch in the hope of catching the Snitch before Ravenclaw could catch up completely. He heard a low roar from the blue-clad supporters. Now Ravenclaw was only ten points down.

He heard a small shriek that he easily identified as Angelina's. Harry quickly turned his broomstick around. He saw her and a good number of the rest of the spectators gesturing toward a small gold ball at least fifty yards above the field at the other end of the field. Harry immediately took off after the Snitch, Cho on his tail.

"Katie in possession of Quaffle- no, now that Ravenclaw has it- Keltrin, that's his name- takes a Bludger in the back from one of Gryffindor's Beaters- nice job there, guys- ok, so Ginny has the Quaffle. Drop it to Katie!" Seamus groaned and Harry tore his eyes off the Snitch for a split second to see the Ravenclaw Keeper pull a save.

Harry turned back, but the Snitch was gone. Cho, too, was looking around wildly for it. Suddenly he saw a flutter of white wings. His heart leapt, and in a moment Harry was racing after it, his hand outstretched. He felt its hard gold surface slip from his fingers, and the next instant he had it clutched in his hand. Cheers from the Gryffindors erupted around the stadium.

Harry grinned as the rest of the team came flying down to meet him, all yelling congratulations. It was more in relief, though, than in excitement. Gryffindor had come dangerously close to losing the match, and if he hadn't caught the Snitch Harry was almost positive that Ravenclaw would've pulled ahead. Looking at Ginny and Katie's dispirited faces, it was clear they were thinking along the same lines. Ron, looking extremely annoyed at his performance as Keeper, grimaced.

"Good job, Harry!" Angelina cried, giving him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek before going off to hug Katie and Ginny.

Harry, feeling a bit better, hugged Hermione as she ran down from the stands, her voice hoarse from cheering. He heard his fellow Gryffindors screaming loudly at their victory, and Seamus's exhilarated voice saying into the microphone, "and a good game for Gryffindor with the final score 230-70."

The foreboding feeling in his stomach and the nervous, anxious looks his teammates were exchanging were enough to make Harry acknowledge the obvious. If future games went as that one had, he realized with a sinking heart, they would need to find a third Chaser.

* * *

In the common room that evening the Gryffindor team sat gathered around a table, looking so dejected that an unknowing observer would've thought them the losers. Seamus and Dean, acting off the Weasley twins' examples from previous wins, had tried valiantly to begin a party in the common room. However, cunning as they pretended to be, Seamus and Dean could not sneak into Hogsmeade and get butterbeer, nor were they able to get many delectable sweets from the kitchen.

Angelina sipped a mug of hot cocoa, glaring at the table top. "That did not go as planned."

"We won," Ron said dryly. "That's what matters."

Angelina transferred her glare to him and he winced. "It's not enough. If we play like that in the next games we'll never win the Quidditch Cup-"

Katie sighed. "Angelina, we won. That counts for something, at least."

"We beat them by 160 points," Ginny added. "I'd say that's pretty good for a team with only two Chasers."

Her comment seemed to hit home with Angelina, for her eyes lit up. "That's it, don't you see?" she appealed to the rest of the team, slightly desperately. "Katie and Ginny were great, but if we held tryouts again-"

There were simultaneous groans from all around the table at her suggestion.

"Do we really need another Chaser?" Ron said, just as angry. "Ginny flew fabulously for a first-timer and Katie-"

"Angelina, you're getting too worked up-" interjected Katie.

Harry waited for everyone to vent their feelings before speaking. The foreboding feeling in his stomach all during the game had been precisely what Angelina had been talking about; there was no denying that while Katie and Ginny were great Chasers, Gyffindor team would benefit better with three. However, he didn't want to just give up after one game and take on another player. It wouldn't be showing a lot of confidence in either Katie or Ginny, but on the other hand, Angelina did have a point.

"I know we could've flown better today, but it was just nerves! It was our first game of the season!" Katie said, turning to Harry as if she was the defending lawyer and he the judge in a court case.

"We should at least see if there's anyone available," continued Angelina. The two friends glared at each other. Angelina looked defiant, while Katie appeared simply mad. Harry could see that even through her offense at Angelina's suggestion, Katie herself knew that they needed another Chaser.

"I agree with Angelina," Ginny said softly, speaking for the first time. Everyone turned to look at her in surprise.

She gave Katie an apologetic glance before continuing. "I know I'm not nearly as good as Angelina or Alicia; with either of them Gryffindor would be fine with two Chasers." She took a deep breath. "But I don't think it's worth trying to be unique if we play all our games like today. What if Harry can't play in one of our games? There's no way we'd win!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Harry, somewhat offended. "What do you mean if I can't play?"

Ginny gave him an apologetic glance, as well. "You can't deny that you end up in the Hospital Wing a lot."

"Like in your first year," piped up Angelina, and then reddened when Harry gave her a reproachful glance.

"Oy! It's not Harry's fault if he has to save the school," said Ron, grinning as Harry turned red.

"Quidditch is only his day job," Ginny teased, grinning affectionately.

"Yes, well, we really need to get back to our discussion," said Harry loudly, trying to stop the sudden snickers around the table.

"Yes, we really ought to get back to our argument," Angelina said, still grinning. "I say we hold tryouts one more time just to make sure there aren't any good candidates.

"Give us another chance, first," protested Katie. "See how we do in our next game."

"Which isn't for another few months," responded Angelina. "It'll be silly if we have to get a new Chaser halfway through the year." Katie grumbled, but couldn't find any sensible comeback.

"I have an idea." Everyone turned to look at the speaker; no one was even slightly surprised to see who it was.

"Imagine that, Hermione," said Ron very seriously. "You have an idea. Guess there's a first time for everything." He chuckled as she hit him lightly on the arm before speaking.

"What if you let Ginny and Katie practice some more and you only interview the people you thought were best from the first tryouts," Hermione suggested, leaning on her chair from the next table, on which she's spread out all her homework. "Then everyone's happy."

Harry shared a glance first with Ron, and then with Angelina. It seemed like a good idea and from the relatively friendly glance Katie and Angelina were exchanging, the two girls seemed as if they would be willing to compromise. Hermione wasn't overly-fond of Quidditch, though, and she wasn't the best reliable source for advice on the sport. However, nothing she had mentioned was related to moves or techniques, so Harry didn't see how it could harm the team.

"Are you two ok with that?" he asked, directing the question at Angelina and Katie. The two girls glanced at each other again and then nodded.

"But no one besides Emily and Clark," said Katie quickly, looking as though she would rather the latter not be interviewed at all.

"Deal," said Angelina just as fast. The girls shook hands, completely ignoring Harry, who was quite amused by it. He gave Hermione a grateful glance, and then stood up.

"I think it's time we celebrate," he suggested, smiling at his teammates. "After all we did win."

"Yes, just let us nip off the kitchens and we'll be back with the food," Ron added, standing up and heading toward the portrait with Harry behind them.

They brought back loads of cakes and pies from the kitchen, courtesy of Dobby and the other house-elves. Seamus and Dean amused everyone by parading off several Weasley Wizarding Wheezes prototypes Fred and George had sent them, including a candy similar to a muggle gobstopper; not only did it change color, it also turned the eater different colors as well. Neville was a deep shade violet for several hours before the charm wore off. Ginny ended the evening by setting off little firecrackers that sent harmless sparks sailing around the room.

By the end of the evening, after receiving at least a dozen congratulations and having had a magnificent time at their party, Harry was very glad he was Quidditch Captain.

"To one of Gryffindor's finest Quidditch teams ever," he announced near the end of the festivities.

"To our first win with our new captain," toasted Katie, holding up her glass of sparkling apple cider. The rest of the team joined in the toast and Harry, extremely red in the face, grinned happily.

Though Gryffindor Tower would never have quite the same festivities it had had during the time of the Weasley twins, Harry and Ron were almost as good. And that was saying something.

* * *

"So, do you ever go flying anymore?" Hermione asked quietly, seating herself at a table in the back of the common room early the next afternoon. She set Aqua on the table and glanced up expectantly.

Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised at her appearance. He looked around quickly but replied after seeing there was hardly anyone else in the common room. "No. Except for our flying lessons with Madame Hooch. Which are an absolute joke," he sniffed.

Hermione waited a few seconds before speaking, choosing her words carefully. "But could you go flying if you wanted? Just for fun," she added quickly, lest he think her words were anything but casual.

He gave her an inquisitive glance. "I suppose so." He shrugged. "The school has brooms that anyone can use."

"So you can fly!" Hermione exclaimed, beaming.

"If I really wanted to I could," Draco said impatiently. "Why all the questions? You don't even like flying."

"So why don't you fly anymore?" Hermione asked, pretending she hadn't heard him.

He shrugged. "Dunno. There's not a lot of time, and the school brooms aren't that good." Her words seemed to have had some effect on him, though, for his statement was half-hearted, and his tone of voice was lacking conviction. Hermione smiled when he continued without her having to prod.

"I suppose I could if I wanted. Just fly around the pitch a few times." He glanced up, and Hermione quickly nodded.

"Great idea. So you'll be flying, er, tomorrow, then? What time?"

Draco looked startled and slightly suspicious. "I don't know. Why?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"No reason," Hermione replied quickly. "So, what are you doing?" She leaned over his parchment in interest.

"Potions essay."

"For me or Snape?"

"You."

"Oh."

Draco waited a moment, sighed, and then inched his essay away, brushing back her hair, which had fallen into the drying ink.

"If you don't mind waiting until I've finished writing it before reading it . . ." he said pointedly.

"Right," said Hermione, blushing slightly and leaning back.

"Conrad!"

Hermione looked up to see a small girl with mousey brown hair come running up to their table. She sat down with a plop, putting several books down as well. Hermione, startled, scooted her chair back to make room for the newcomer, but the girl hadn't even seemed to have notice her.

"What are you doing, Conrad?" the girl asked, inexplicably beaming.

Draco gave a loud sigh, pulling his Potions essay away. "Hello, Anna," he muttered.

It took Hermione a minute to remember where she'd heard the name before, and then she grinned, giving him a sideways glance and raising her eyebrows. He glared furiously at her, his eyes shooting daggers.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Anna asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"No, make yourself at home," sighed Draco. "Not much I can do about it," he muttered under his breath.

If Anna heard, she ignored it. "What essay are you doing? Maybe we can start McGonagall's together! I have absolutely no idea what the Latin derivatives of our spells are," she continued, still smiling flirtatiously. "Do you?"

"This is Hermione Granger," Draco said loudly, just as Hermione started to get up, a smile on her face. He stared very pointedly at her and then at the chair.

Hermione sat back down, smirking at his sigh of relief. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes," said Anna immediately and then turned back to Draco. "So, shall we-"

"Hermione was just helping me review the last potion we made," Draco said smoothly, cutting her off. "I'm pretty sure I messed it up and we were going over the steps."

Hermione's grin widened as he winced at his own words. She was going to have a lot of fun with him later.

"Actually, Conrad, I think we're done," said Hermione brightly, beginning to stand up again. She glared at him, turning bright red as he automatically reached for her, accidentally yanking her skirt and pulling it down a few centimeters.

"Don't even think it," he whispered through gritted teeth, flushing slightly as he released her skirt. Hermione reluctantly sat again, feeling Anna's curious eyes on her. Truth be told, she couldn't help feeling the tiniest bit curious as to what would happen; Anna was coming on pretty strong and the Draco Malfoy she knew and hated loved flirting with girls- although she was pretty sure he would draw the line at hitting on Gryffindor first years. At least, she hoped he would. She didn't even want to think of the possibilities if he didn't.

"So, Conrad, can we start McGonagall's essay?"

"Sorry, Anna, but I'm not feeling that well," Draco lied loudly, grimacing and pretending to clutch his stomach. "I think I ate too much at lunch. I was just planning on going to the Hospital Wing."

Anna's face was instantly filled with concern. She leaned over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll walk you to the Hospital Wing."

Hermione, unable to contain herself, burst out laughing, which she hastily turned into an unlady-like snort. Anna didn't even look at her. Draco glowered at her, before turning back to the girl still hanging onto his arm, seemingly with no intentions of letting go.

"That's really, ok, Anna. I'll probably be out in a few minutes. Will you be in here?" he asked.

Anna nodded eagerly, her light brown hair shaking like mad. "Of course."

Draco gave her a tight smile and stood up. "Er, I kind of need you to let go of my arm." Anna did, looking unabashed. He gave Hermione a furtive glance before, still holding his stomach, pretending to limp away.

Hermione had to clap a hand over her mouth to suppress laughter. She heard Anna give a loud, dreamy sigh, and turned to look at the younger girl.

"Isn't he so cute?" Anna asked, more out loud than to Hermione.

"Er." Though she was hardly ever at a loss for words, Hermione didn't know what to say. Anna did realize that Hermione was a sixth year and therefore it would be very inappropriate for her to think "Conrad" was cute . . . didn't she?

"And he's so smart," Anna continued, her eyes even more out of focus. "I can't wait for Valentine's Day."

Hermione reddened. She was more than slightly embarrassed to hear a younger member of her own House calling Draco Malfoy 'cute,' and 'smart.' Anna turned to her.

"You're so lucky you're his tutor!" Anna said enviously. "Don't you just love him?"

"Yes, well, he's a, er, sweet boy, but I'm a few years older than he is, so I'm really just trying to help a younger students, I don't actually have a-" Hermione, aware that she was babbling, blushed and shut her mouth. She was very anxious to make sure that Anna knew she did not have a crush on "Conrad." Hermione grimaced. What an awful thought. She might really need to visit the hospital wing after this.

"Well, that's good," said Anna brightly, as if she had genuinely considered the older girl a threat. "Do you think he likes me?"

Hermione paused, once again rendered speechless. "I- I'm sure he thinks you're a very good friend," she said quickly, before standing up and shoving her chair in with such force Anna was startled enough into looking up from the tabletop.

"If you'll excuse me, I really have to go." Hermione left rather quickly as Anna waved and then sighed dreamily again.

She stopped in the hallway and convulsed with laughter. She didn't think she had ever been so amused in her life! Whenever this whole thing was over Hermione was going to have a lot of fun recounting Draco's admirer to Harry and Ron.

"Oh, yes, very funny," she heard a distinctly annoyed male voice grumble.

Hermione straightened, grinning at Draco, who was leaning against the wall next to the portrait of the Fat Lady and scowling.

"Hello, Mr Wallarty," Hermione choked out, and then began laughing hysterically again.

"How extremely witty. I'm so amused," Draco said dryly, glaring.

"You'd better hope that she doesn't know Ginny," Hermione said. "If she does you can expect a singing valentine on February 14^th!"

He groaned. "She's already planning for Valentine's Day?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she's already picked out names for your children," Hermione said, grinning at his horrified expression. "She has a terribly big crush on you."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he said sarcastically, his glare intensifying.

"It's not funny," he argued, seeing the twinkle in her eye and the twitch in her lips. "She does it all the time! She's always trying to sit with me or do homework! If we were allowed to go to Hogsmeade, she'd probably have asked me out several dozen times by now," he finished grumpily.

"I don't know what you're so upset about," countered Hermione, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall on the other side of the Fat Lady. "She seems just like Pansy." She fluttered her eyelashes, adopting a sickly sweet and giggly voice. "Oh, Draco, how are you feeling? You look so wonderful in your new designer robes, darling! Let's get married and move into Malfoy Manor right away-"

"Hey," Draco interrupted indignantly. "Pansy has never asked me to marry her, and, contrary to popular belief, we are not secretly engaged."

Hermione tried to look coy (which was rather hard to do when staring at Draco Malfoy in the form of a first year). "Are you sure? Did you ever think there might be some things Mummy and Daddy aren't telling you?"

Draco turned bright red and slightly green, and odd mixture of colors on a face. "Shut up, Granger."

Hermione laughed. "Gladly, Malfoy."

"And Pansy's not as foolish as you make her sound," Draco continued.

"I thought we had ended the conversa-"

"And we were never really serious about each other."

"Allow me to contradict," Hermione cut in, grinning. Once again she impersonated Pansy. "Oh, Draco, does it hurt a lot? Is it terribly painful where that nasty old hippogriff savaged you on the arm, so much that you might never play Quidditch again?" Hermione laughed as Draco glared at her, looking extremely offended.

"I don't know what you're talking about. That beast did savage my arm," he protested, absent-mindedly rubbing said limb.

"Yes, because you called him a brute," Hermione said severely. "After Hagrid expressly said that hippogriffs are proud creatures."

He rolled his eyes. "If you start on hippogriff rights, Granger, I think I'll go mad."

Just to annoy him, Hermione listed a few important facts about hippogriffs she had discovered in third year while helping Hagrid prepare for Buckbeak's trial- before sighing happily and reminding him that in the end Buckbeack had gotten away.

"Buggered if I know how, though," Draco grumbled at the end. "That oaf of a teacher must have had something to do with it."

"Hagrid's not an oaf," Hermione said in annoyance, wishing dearly she could inform him that she and Harry were really the ones responsible for saving Buckbeak. Her eyes widened. "Weren't you supposed to go back to Anna after you went to the Hospital Wing?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "No."

"But you asked if she would be there," Hermione said, confused.

He looked, she was surprised to see, a bit guilty. "I know. So I knew whether or not it would be safe to go back in there."

"Draco!" exclaimed Hermione in shock. "That's horrible! You're leading the poor girl on."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well, don't you think it would be rather inappropriate if I responded to her advances?" He wrinkled his nose. "Not to mention horribly disgusting and permanently damaging for the rest of my life, so much so that I would need therapy as an adult. Not that I won't need therapy in the first place after all this . . ."

Hermione winced. "If you put it that way . . ."

"I do," he said in imperious tones. "And now, Granger, I must be going. Very important things to do." He made to go downstairs.

"Such as writing in your diary?" Hermione called out, unable to resist one last tease.

He stiffened, and then, in a snotty tone, spoke. "Yes. It's not half as insulting." He strode off with his nose in the air, looking, in Hermione's opinion, rather silly. However, in the hope of student peace and friendship, she didn't yell it out to him- not to mention it was dreadfully funny seeing a first year swaggering down the stairs.

Laughing quietly under her breath, Hermione turned and went back into Gryffindor.

Meanwhile, the Fat Lady stared down the stairs where the brown haired boy had gone, her mouth open slightly and her eyes wide. "How extraordinary," she murmured to no one in particular. "How simply shocking! And everyone thinks he's dead!" Delighted by the idea of gossip only she knew about, the Fat Lady smiled. "Just wait until Violet hears this . . ."