Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 13

Loophole

No matter how far away spring was, Christmas and the holidays were fast approaching. The next and final Hogsmeade visit before Christmas was spent in a flurry of shopping in which Harry, Ron, and Hermione promised not to peek in each other's bags after the allotted time for individual shopping was over. Nonetheless, though he only attempted to look once and was not very discreet about it, Ron badgered both of them several times for hints that Harry and Hermione ignored.

"Oh c'mon, you can at least tell me what store you bought it in-"

"Look, Ron, there's Cho!" exclaimed Hermione in retaliation, pointing at said girl as she emerged from the post office and shaking slightly in an effort to restrain laughter as Ron instantly turned red and ducked his head.

"That's not funny," he said reproachfully after the Ravenclaw and her chattering group of friends had passed. He looked to Harry for agreement. "I don't fancy her at all anymore." Harry nodded absent-mindedly, determined not to dwell on Cho.

"Then don't ask for your Christmas presents," scolded Hermione severely, rearranging her bags to free a hand so it looked for a moment as if she were about to shake a finger at him.

"I feel like I'm in Transfiguration," Ron muttered, taking care that only Harry heard.

The trio walked back to the castle in high spirits, full of butterbeer and satisfied that their pockets were empty and shopping done. Ginny and Luna joined them, and the latter spoke with Ron animatedly about the Quibbler's most recent astounding articles while the redhead nodded, his eyes glazed. For the first time in weeks Harry had seen Ginny was talking to Hermione voluntarily, and looked quite as ease, her former sullenness gone. Harry eyed them curiously but did not ask what had been the matter, lest it restart the argument.

At dinner they exchanged pleasantries with all the friends they passed, and everyone was in quite good spirits because December classes had ended that day and Monday would mark the beginning of their break. The students who would be visiting families were leaving the following day but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all staying at Hogwarts this year. Ron had been invited to go home, and the invitation of course included Harry but he declined. Ever since Sirius' death the Weasleys, Mrs. Weasley in particular, had taken special care in treating him like a child. Though he loved them all dearly for their consideration, Harry did not want a replay of the last few weeks of summer, in which he had been either coddled or pitied. Ron, who confessed that Fleur Delacour would be accompanying Bill to the Burrow for Christmas, was not overly eager to go either, so Hermione, too, agreed to stay. According to all recent letters, the oldest Weasley boy had become quite fond of the French girl and Fred and George at least proclaimed it sickening to stay around them for too long.

The evening ended merrily, and Harry said good-bye to all his friends who would be leaving, playing various wizard games until past midnight when he finally decided to go to bed.

Hermione, of course did most of her homework immediately, and urged Harry and Ron to as well, but the boys declined, preferring to go outside and celebrate the first snow of the season by acting thoroughly rambunctious had participating in a huge snowball fight with Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ginny, and a few students from other Houses such as Ernie Macmillan and Luna Lovegood. It was not nearly as exciting as it had been with Fred and George around, but they all got drenched in sopping wet, cold snow, nonetheless. To everyone's surprise, Neville was quite a good aim and managed to hit everyone at least twice.

It had snowed again on Christmas Eve night and upon looking out the window on Christmas morning, Harry saw only pure white snow that seemed to shimmer in the bright sunlight. After exchanging the time old "Happy Christmas" with Seamus and Neville, Harry tugged Ron awake so they could open the stacks of presents at the end of their beds. From Mrs. Weasley Harry received a package of treacle fudge and a dark green jumper bearing his initials and a flying golden snitch. Ron had given him one of Fred and George's Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes fireworks kit, and Hermione's present to each of them (thankfully not a homework planner) was a hand-made wooden chess piece carved in their images.

"This is great, Hermione," Ron said gleefully, too busy showing off the wooden figure of him as the black knight piece to be annoyed that Hermione had once again come into the boys' dormitory. Harry's was the white knight.

"They're enchanted to act like real wizard chess pieces," Hermione explained, and Ron's eyes grew wider in excitement. Harry was not at all looking forward to seeing his carved image being slaughtered by Ron's, but was delighted by the gift just the same. Hagrid's present was a book on dragons, and to his great surprise, Harry saw another small wrapped package.

He opened it and stared at the signature. Angelina had sent him a bottle of cologne. Harry sniffed it tentatively, feeling guilty as he realized he had not gotten anything for her.

"Who gave you that?" Ron asked, grinning wickedly.

"Angelina," Harry said hurriedly, ignoring the smirks from the other sixth year boys.

"I'll help you get something to give to her later," Hermione promised in a whisper, taking care to make sure the others didn't hear. Harry could've kissed her. Again.

* * *

The Room of Requirement had decorated the room according to the holiday and a majestic, yet homely evergreen stood in the corner next to the couch, covered in shimmering gold garlands and glass balls in all the House colors. To her surprise, there were even neatly wrapped boxes under the tree. Hermione admired it for a moment before sitting on the couch. Being Christmas, today was not actually supposed to be a tutoring session, but she had seen Draco in the hallway after breakfast and asked him to meet her there anyway. She looked up as the door handle turned.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

"Happy Christmas," he replied, eyeing the couch and then the table, unsure as to where to sit.

"You're welcome to sit here," Hermione said, indicating the other side of the couch, amused. "Or I'm sure the Room will provide another if you're uncomfortable with that."

Draco sat stiffly on the couch, as close to the other armrest as he could manage. Hermione concentrated for a moment, and a coffee table laden with sweets and drinks appeared before them. He raised his eyebrows but made no comment.

"I brought more butterbeer," Hermione said, taking two bottles from her bag. Draco accepted one, looking pleased.

"And-" she hesitated. "Here." Without another word she held him a square shaped package wrapped in emerald green with a silver bow.

Draco stared at it, looking as if he thought he hadn't heard right. "What?"

"It's for you," Hermione clarified, extending her hand a bit farther.

Slowly, after another few seconds of bewilderment, Draco took it. He studied her, and Hermione couldn't stop a warm flush from spreading to her cheeks at the scrutiny.

"You're supposed to open it."

Draco's gaze flickered to the present on his lap and silently he began unwrapping it. He laid the silver tassel on the couch beside him and meticulously slit the tape, as if wary of seeing what lay beneath and trying to delay. It was quite different from the way Harry and Ron tore off the wrapping as fast as they could. Finally he slid off the wrapping. Hermione watched happily as he picked up the handsome black book in the package. The front was velvety soft and had the word "Diary" inscribed in silver curliqued letters. She had tried to find one that was similar to his old one yet also unique.

"It's masculine enough, right?" Hermione asked, slightly anxious as she recalled all the more feminine looking pastel colored journals she'd had to pass over.

"Yes," he said. "It's perfect."

"Happy Christmas," Hermione said again, smiling.

His confused expression hadn't changed. "But- why?"

"Your other journal was from the beginning of last year. I figured you might need a new one by now," she explained, and indeed the last time Hermione had seen him with it, he had been writing on what looked like the last page.

"No, I mean why get me a gift?" Draco asked abruptly

This question caught her off guard. Hermione intended to say something silly and non-significant in reply but looking up she was surprised at how serious his face was. Never had he looked so mature, so much older than eleven as he did now. Inexplicably Hermione knew he would not settle for a random answer.

She settled on shrugging first, always a good stalling opening. "I figured, considering your situation, you wouldn't have gotten many presents; and besides, it's what one normally does on Christmas. I gave all my other friends gifts; why not you?"

His eyebrow arched, and Hermione could tell, just by looking at him, what the question was. If he asked it, she would refuse to answer. Seeming to sense that it was not only inappropriate, but rude considering she had just given him a gift, he did not ask the question Ginny that been pressing lately: "are we friends?"

"You don't have to write in it if you don't want," Hermione said quickly, yet hoping he would. "I remember it's sort of tradition for your mother to give you them, but I thought it might be nice if you had a new one."

"Thank you," Draco said, sounding normal at last. He examined the diary, flipping through the blank white pages and looking pleased.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied. She popped a lemon drop into her mouth for want of distraction, wondering why the Room had provided Muggle candies. Perhaps another frequent visitor liked them, although she couldn't imagine who.

"You might want to look under the tree."

Hermione glanced up to see Draco had finished looking at the diary and was looking at her almost slyly.

"They're not real," she said automatically, glancing again at the pretend presents.

"One of them might be," he retorted off-handedly, failing to achieve the aura of innocence he was trying for.

Hermione stared at him in confusion for a moment before getting up and kneeling in front of the tree. She looked to Draco for any further instruction but he merely smiled. Hermione picked up one box after another, shaking them, slightly, perplexed as to what her purpose was. After rattling nearly every package to no avail, not hearing the smallest noise other than the rustle of paper and becoming quite frustrated, Hermione sat back on her heels, hands on her hips.

Draco, much to her gall, was faintly smirking. "If I were you I'd try shaking one with your House colors on it."

Hermione dropped the purple present she'd been holding and grabbed a small box she hadn't noticed before, wrapped in gold and red. Instinctively she shook it gently and was rewarded with a soft jangle. Draco smiled encouragingly, and Hermione brought it back to the couch, her curiosity intensified.

"You're supposed to open it." It took a few seconds for Hermione to realize he was repeating her own words. She did not unwrap it carefully as Draco had done; instead, she tore off the paper and a long, velvet blue box fell in her lap. She stared at it in shock and then, finally hesitant, opened it.

A beautiful gold heart-shaped necklace lay in the box. The border of the gold pendant shone with tiny rubies, and in the center were the letters "HG." Her breath caught as she stared, entranced, at the necklace.

"It's a locket." Draco's voice broke into her stunned thoughts. Hermione immediately pried open the necklace to see that it was indeed a locket.

"You can put pictures in it," he added.

"This is for me?" Her heart beat painfully fast as she slipped the locket out of its catch.

"No, I left it there for a House-Elf. Of course, it's for you. I came in earlier and left it under the tree."

"Thank you." She wished to say more but couldn't think of the right words. It was a remarkable necklace, the prettiest she owned.

"How did you get it?"

"I ordered it from a wizard catalog service; once a month a large sum of Galleons appears in my bag. I can only assume it's sent by someone with You-Know-Who sympathetic to my needs."

"You get money every month for being under this curse?" Hermione asked incredulously, not having heard any of this before.

Draco shrugged. "Yes. There's not much to spend it on, though." He made a face. "I was so desperate to spend I even bought Weasel's sister something."

Hermione was impressed. "You got something for Ginny?"

"It's a bribe," he informed her. "To make sure she doesn't reveal my secret. It's in the purple one you were about to pick up." He indicated said present.

"Ginny doesn't take bribes."

"Fine, it's a thank you, something to remind her of her promise- call it whatever you'd like."

"Thank you," Hermione said again, her voice quiet. She fingered the locket, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. Never had she expected that Draco would give her something; even when she had been buying the diary it had never crossed her mind. And this was such a beautiful, thoughtful gift; he'd even had it engraved! It was not at all like the Draco she knew to give such expensive presents to people he professed to dislike. Or perhaps, it was not like the Draco she had known. Perhaps he had changed more than she thought. He looked very pleased at her reaction.

Hermione tried to fasten the locket around her neck but couldn't get it around her hair at the same time.

"I'll do it," Draco said, getting up and kneeling behind her. She felt his fingers take the locket and lifted her hair.

"So bushy," he muttered, and she grinned. He fumbled a bit on the catch before finally putting it on right. Hermione shivered at the cool air on her neck and turned around.

Draco stared silently at her, taking in the necklace. They were at eye-level with each other, both sitting on the floor, and Hermione found this more to her liking than being a foot taller than him.

"It looks great," he said truthfully, sounding satisfied.

Hermione smiled, rubbing the locket gently. "I love it. It's absolutely exquisite"

"Good."

They were both silent for the next few minutes, looking at their presents. Draco got a mug of hot chocolate from the table in front of them and began drinking.

"Hermione," he said at last. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For what?" She couldn't think of anything he had to apologize for.

"For everything I've said or done that's hurt you over the years." He said it quite abruptly and stared straight at her, not blinking and very composed, as if he'd been practicing it for some time.

Hermione was struck silent and could only gape. She must have misheard him or not interpreted his words correctly. Draco Malfoy was apologizing for every impolite thing he'd done over the years? He was taking it all back? First the beautiful, unexpected necklace, and now this. She began to wonder if it were all a dream, that perhaps it was still Christmas Eve night and she was still asleep.

Draco obviously comprehended her confusion for he quickly elaborated. "As in calling you a mudblood, insulting you, cursing you-"

"You never cursed me," Hermione said automatically.

He winced. "Well, I did once, but it was an accident . . ." He gestured at her mouth until Hermione recalled the devastating encounter in fourth year right before Potions class.

"I didn't mean to hex you," he added apologetically.

"It's alright," Hermione said, once again speaking reflexively. "It helped actually." Draco looked as if he wanted to ask how, but didn't.

"So you're saying you don't think I'm a mudblood anymore?" Hermione wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't gotten to know him so well and could tell he was being completely honest and sincere.

"Well technically, according to the definition, you are, but I try to think of you as a muggleborn instead." She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an unintentional insult.

"What I'm trying to say," Draco said hastily, obviously wondering the same thing, "is that I'm sorry I was rude to you these past five years." He paused. "Although I'm not sorry for taking all those points from Gryffindor last year- that was fun."

"I slapped you in third year," Hermione said blankly, still unable to grasp the concept that he was trying to make amends for the past five years.

"Er, yes, you did." Draco frowned. "It hurt quite a bit."

"And Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and I cursed you on the train ride home in fourth year."

"Yes, I recall that, too, unfortunately."

"And I suppose I insulted you a lot, as well."

"I'm sure you did. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me."

"And in second year we-" Hermione actually clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at almost telling him about the Polyjuice Potion. Unfortunately he now looked quite suspicious.

"What were you saying about second year?"

"N-nothing," Hermione stuttered, mentally hitting herself. Imagine what Harry and Ron would say if she told them . . . come to think of it they'd probably want to be there to see his reaction.

"You're lying," Draco reproved and then frowned, concentrating. "I don't remember anything big happening between us in second year, other than seeing each other in Flourish and Blotts and Weasel's hilarious slug display."

Hermione laughed nervously. "Yes, I must have been mistaken." She was lying and doing it extraordinarily badly but Draco, perhaps in the spirit of Christmas, did not push it.

He took a deep breath. "Thinking of muggleborns as inferior was an simple way to boost my own ego and it made hating you a whole lot easier."

"But why did you hate me?" Hermione asked simply.

"I disliked Gryffindors to begin with and you were- well, you were quite a bit annoying at the beginning," he said almost apologetically. "Answering every single question in class and such. And when you became friends with Potter and Weasley I pictured you all as one entity that I despised. It was easy to be mean because I-" At this he paused and looked away, flushing.

"What?"

"I might've been a bit jealous," he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. "You're very smart, and the teachers love you."

Hermione blushed, avoiding his gaze. It was awfully brave of him to admit that.

"I'm sorry, too. I suppose I disliked you because you insulted me as well as my friends. I guess I never got to know anyone from Slytherin before judging them. We were too immature to realize how stupid it all was."

They looked at each other, both shy from speaking so frankly about the other.

"It's never too late to change," Hermione whispered. She wasn't sure if Draco had heard or not but his eyes seemed to reflect agreement, although it could've been her imagination.

They were silent. Hermione didn't mention that he hadn't said a word about how he'd treated Harry and the Weasleys. Then again, she doubted he ever would. After all, it was unthinkable that her two best friends would apologize in turn as well.

"But as long as we're on the topic of naming misdemeanors what did happen in second year?" Draco's sudden question, meant to catch her off guard, did nothing of the sort. His breaking the silence was a mark of setting aside former differences and forgiveness on both parts for what had happened in the past.

"Absolutely nothing," Hermione promptly lied, grinning at his frown.

"Since I don't know about it but it obviously includes me, you must have done something or other tricky." He scowled, thinking. Hermione hoped he never remembered the Polyjuice Potion in Moste Potente Potions.

"And I'm sure Potter and Weasley would know, too. Perhaps they'd tell since they don't know it's really little old me."

"Don't you dare ask them," Hermione snapped, worriedly considering the possibility that now her friends, Ron in particular, thought Malfoy was "dead," they might divulge their secret for laughs. She would have to make sure they were thinking nothing of the kind later.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted her thoughts and Draco's next attempt to learn the secret. Nervously, Hermione stood and walked swiftly to the entrance, motioning Draco to step back from the line of sight. The only one who knew they were in there was Ginny, but that didn't mean someone else hadn't unknowingly stumbled across them.

Hermione opened the door a crack and sighed in relief at seeing her red-haired friend.

"Come in." She pulled Ginny quickly inside and shut the door.

"You're still in here? What on earth are you doing with him?" Ginny turned, saw Draco sitting on the floor, and frowned. Despite now being in on the secret, her relations with him had not improved any. Then again, Hermione didn't exactly blame her, although in her opinion both Ginny and Draco could be trying a little harder to be friendly.

"It's a pleasure to see you, too, Weasley," Draco said with sarcastic cheeriness.

"And a happy Christmas to you," Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes. "Obnoxious," she muttered.

"I'm not the only one."

They glared at each other. Hermione sighed.

"Actually your being here may serve a purpose, Ginevra." Draco had taken to calling her by her full name upon learning that it was not at all to her liking. "Do you have any idea what Hermione and her little minions did to me in their second year?"

Ginny scowled. "By minions I assume you mean Ron and Harry?"

"Well, yes, unless you were involved in which case you'd be a minionette."

Ginny almost threw one of the books on the shelf at him. Draco was grinning devilishly. Hermione sighed again, this time a little louder, but neither of her companions seemed to notice her exaggerated angst.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ginny said, sounding snotty, perhaps on purpose. "However, I do know you said some unpleasant things in your second year."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Draco said airily in mimicking tones. He gave a mock sigh of regret. "If you don't know the answer, Ginevra, I'm afraid I really should end this conversation. Talking with a Weasley is undoubtedly doing me brain damage."

"You are obnoxious," Hermione observed, although, granted, it wasn't much of a surprise.

Ginny picked a parcel up from beneath the tree and flung it at him. Draco ducked just in time, and the purple box hit the couch.

"Weasley, if you didn't want your present just say so," he drawled. "There's no reason to throw things at me."

"Excuse me?" Ginny said coldly, clearly thinking he was making fun of her. "I wasn't aware the Room of Requirement provided gifts for its users."

"It doesn't. While I shudder at calling you an ally, I cannot pretend your agreement to keep my secret is not kind. So, there's your Christmas present, please don't make a big deal out of it, and we'll never tell anyone a Malfoy gave a gift to a Weasley."

He sat back against the couch, looking satisfied and then changed his mind and sat on the sofa instead, as if determined to look a bit more authoritative in front of Ginny.

Ginny's eyes were narrowed, and she still seemed to be trying to discern a joke. She only took the purple box when Hermione, impatient, forcibly put it in her hands. Ginny, still glared suspiciously at Draco, tore off the paper and opened the box. Her eyes widened. Hermione leaned over to get a better look.

Draco had given Ginny a pair of silk turquoise gloves with fleece lining and a matching hat and scarf. Putting the box on the ground she slowly pulled on the winter wear. Ginny stared at them in shocked silence.

"I tried to get something that wouldn't clash with your hair," Draco said almost amicably.

"They look nice," Hermione said.

"I- well- thank you," Ginny said, reddening as she stared in bewilderment at Draco. "They're lovely."

He inclined his head, smirking slightly. It was clear that while Ginny liked the present she was deeply aggrieved at now not being able to fairly insult him without sounding petty about it. And judging by his expression, Draco knew it.

"I just wanted to see where you were, Hermione. I should be going now. Dean and I are exchanging gifts while Ron's busy walloping Harry at chess. Have a, erm, happy Christmas, Malfoy," she said, still red and quickly hurried to the door. She raised her eyebrows at Hermione before leaving and mouthed her desire to have a private chat afterwards. Hermione nodded indiscreetly before turning back to Draco.

"I shall enjoy Weasley's reaction when Ginny can't tell him whom they're from."

"That'll probably lead him to conclude that they're from a secret admirer," Hermione pointed out. Draco blanched.

"I don't usually go for redheads, and I'm afraid I'd have to commit suicide should I ever take a liking to a Weasley."

Hermione laughed, much to Draco chagrin. "Don't worry, I'm sure Ron would save you the trouble by killing you himself."

"And would you come to my funeral?"

"Of course I would. I'd have to keep Ron from causing havoc, wouldn't I?"

He sniffed. "He's not invited to my funeral. Weasley's too overprotective for his own good. Honestly, Ginny can't even tell him she's dating that Dean person. What kind of brother-in-law will he be if she ever gets married?"

"Is there any particular reason you're interested in finding out?"

"You're sick, Granger!" Horrified, Draco threw a pillow at her, catching her squarely in the face. Hermione shrieked, still giggling and ducked as a second cushion came flying at her.

"It's a good think you don't play Quidditch. You'd never be able to avoid the Bludgers."

"I'm sure someone would help me. Perhaps one of my "overprotective" friends."

"Nonsense," Draco scoffed. "They'd both be terribly inept at it. I'm the only one on that team who could stand a chance at making sure your nose isn't broken. I'm sure those twins could've done it but they're not here anymore, are they."

The next half hour was spent in the same fashion, eating the goodies the room had provided, drinking butterbeer and hot chocolate, and talking whenever a thought entered their minds. At last Hermione got to her feet, clearing the table as best she could (she had thrown a bowl of Bertie Bott's at Draco when he began recounting his time as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad and they had spilled all over the carpet).

"I was wondering," said Draco as he too began cleaning up. "If maybe we could make a Blushing Potion sometime. We wouldn't test it, obviously," he added hurriedly. "I'll even make it myself, but do you care if I use the room?"

Hermione stared at him before nodding slowly. Where was the harm in it really? There was no danger to him making a Love Potion, especially if they weren't going to test it. She shuddered: despite the fact that she was starting to grow fond of him, and maybe even subconsciously considering him a friend, testing a Love Potion with Draco Malfoy, even one as harmless as the Blushing Potion, was downright out of the question, particularly if he was a first year. That was just plain sick.

"It's alright with me. I'm sure I can get an Ashwinder egg for you next Potions."

"Thanks." He considered, grinning slyly. "Perhaps Weasley would enjoy a bit of-"

Hermione hit him in the forehead with another Bertie Bott's before he even finished the sentence.

Five minutes after Draco left, his new diary in hand, Hermione too exited the room, murmuring a quick 'thank you.' It would, in normal circumstance, be silly to talk to a room, but in a magical one such as this, in a castle as extraordinary as Hogwarts, Hermione didn't think it hurt to be polite.

"Finally!"

Hermione jumped at the voice. "Ginny!" she exclaimed, spotting her friend as she uncoiled from a hidden niche in the wall. "What are you doing there?"

"Waiting for you. And listening," she admitted, pointing at a flesh-colored pair of Extendable Ears hanging out of her pocket.

"Why?" she asked, trying not to sound offended. "And didn't Draco notice you when he came out?"

Ginny shook her head and a strange look passed across her face. "No, he seemed a bit preoccupied. I think he was humming."

Hermione stared. "But why were you eavesdropping?"

"I was curious." Ginny sighed, giving Hermione a searching glance. "Don't you think Malfoy's acting odd?"

"He's different than he used to be," Hermione said defensively. "I know you don't believe me but he really is. He's considerate and friendly."

"Yes, you've told me that dozens of times," Ginny said impatiently. "What I mean is, don't you think the way he's been acting around you is odd?"

Hermione drew a blank. "Sorry?"

"He's polite to me and even got me a gift! That's not because his feelings about me have changed in any way! It's because I'm your friend. He jokes around with you and is happy. Malfoy enjoys spending time with you, Hermione! He's not just in it for the lessons!"

Hermione tried to laugh but managed only a weak chuckle. "You're exaggerating."

Ginny shook her head, exasperated but amused. "What did he give you for Christmas?"

Her hand automatically flew to her neck. Ginny's eyes widened at the sight of the gold locket.

"He gave you gold jewelry?" she said incredulously.

Hermione nodded, blushing.

"And it's engraved?" Ginny couldn't have sounded more astonished if she'd tried.

"He probably didn't know what to get me," Hermione said quickly, as the two girls began walking down the hall together, squashing the thought that a book would have been the obvious choice. "And please call him Conrad so no one overhears!"

"He wants to make a Love Potion," Ginny continued, giving no indication that she would comply.

"A Blushing Potion. It's the least effective of all, and we're not even testing it!"

"It doesn't matter, he still asked you. He gave you that necklace with your initials on it. You can make him laugh! He makes you laugh." There was apparent awe in her voice that made Hermione blush all the harder.

"He apologized," she said in a small voice, not quite sure why she was simply giving Ginny more ammunition. "For everything that's happened in the past."

Ginny's mouth fell open and she stared. "Well, that settles it," she finally managed weakly.

"Settles what?"

"Hermione, he likes you."

"I know. I don't mind him anymore, either." She bit her lip. "If it weren't

for . . . if it weren't for our past, we'd even be friends."

"That's not what I mean." Ginny took a deep breath. "When I say he likes you I mean it a bit more than that . . . Hermione, I think he fancies you."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione's response was instinctive and as soon as the words left her mouth she thought rather hopefully that maybe she'd misheard.

Ginny shook her head vigorously, suddenly smiling slyly. "Why is it so unimaginable? Well, alright, yes, it's Malfoy-"

"Conrad!" Hermione hissed as a pair of Ravenclaws passing them in the hall turned to stare.

"But think of it objectively and you'll see my point. Obviously you're a good influence on him considering how much he's changed, and you have to admit that you both enjoy spending time with each other, otherwise these study sessions of yours would never work. Secondly, he gave you jewelry, third, he offered to protect you from Bludgers, and fourth," she paused, her silence stressing how important her final point was, "he apologized for everything. Do you honestly think he of all people would suddenly apologize just to keep things on good terms? There's got to be an ulterior motive."

"Which is?"

"He likes you!" Ginny shook her head in consternation, yet from the look on her face she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. "He wants to impress you."

"Maybe he really feels sorry for it all," said Hermione dryly.

Ginny snorted. "I'm sure he is, but that's because he likes you. Dumbledore's Army." They had just reached the entrance to Gryffindor and the Fat Lady, about to protest that she wanted to know what they were talking about, (ever since learning the secret she had never stopped pestering Hermione for gossip) grumpily swung back to let them through.

"Are you trying to set me up with a first year?" Hermione whispered, motioning to Harry and Ron, who were playing Wizard's chess in a corner, that she would join them in a minute. "Because in case you've forgotten, that's what he is right now."

"Of course not," Ginny exclaimed, sounding shocked. "I don't want Malfoy fancying you anymore than you do." She squinted, suddenly sounding suspicious. "You don't want him to like you, right?"

Hermione had to take several calming breaths so great was her aggravation. "Not only is he a first year, he's also a Malfoy. It's disgusting, and no, I don't want it in the slightest. How could you think I would? And, to top it all off, he doesn't fancy me in the first place!" She said this all rather fiercely, hoping to make her point clear once and for all. Ginny, to her dismay, nearly chuckled.

"Even if you don't like my theory, you have to admit it's not completely improbable."

Hermione chose, rather than arguing which she had by now figured was pretty much pointless, to simply end the conversation by walking away. She joined Harry and Ron, coming just in time to see Ron's new knight, the one she had given him for Christmas, pummel Harry's.

"Luckily they revive themselves," she remarked as Harry groaned and held up the battered, now bent, replica of himself.

"Funny, Voldemort never seems to do half that much damage to you and yet Ron easily does it without half the trouble," Hermione added.

"Shut up," Harry retorted as Ron choked.

"When's your next Quidditch game?" Hermione asked, having forgotten to ask Draco.

"Two weeks," Harry said, frowning as he studied the board.

"Is having Conrad on the team working out well?"

Harry paused before answering and then shrugged, non-committal. "It's been all right. He's getting better with the Quaffle and works well with Katie and Ginny."

"Ginny doesn't seem to mind him that much anymore," Ron said frowning. "At least, she tolerates him. She seems to think it's funny he's on the team."

Hermione nodded, recalling the laughing fit Ginny had had the week after their run-in with the Fat Lady, when she'd first considered the irony in Draco being on Gryffindor team and that it was thanks to Hermione. Draco, thoroughly annoyed with her sniggering comments, had then proceeded to threaten to tell Ron about Dean. Hermione had privately thought, despite all this threats, that it was a bluff, since it was highly unlikely that Draco would ever voluntarily talk to Ron, even to get back at Ginny.

"He still hates Harry and me," Ron added, bringing Hermione back to the Quidditch conversation. "Not that it isn't a mutual feeling, of course . . ."

"Ron's keeping track of how many saves he makes and how many scores Conrad makes against him," Harry explained, shooting his best friend an amused glance as Ron reddened. "I'm almost positive Conrad's doing the same thing."

That would explain the list of tally marks Hermione had seen Draco scribble on at the beginning of their most recent tutoring session before quickly stashing it in one of his books.

"But overall the game should be fine," Harry concluded. "Like we said, he's a good asset to the team, even if he's not the nicest person."

Hermione beamed.

* * *

The Saturday before the game it snowed again and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to weave in and out of snowdrifts on their way to visit Hagrid. After their most recent Defense Against the Dark Arts class Harry had remembered the strange wizard card and the three had decided to ask Hagrid about Professor Evans' actions against the giants.

"So, Hagrid," said Harry cautiously after they'd all sat down at the table with tea and nut brittle, a new recipe Hagrid had experimented with (after Ron dropped his and it made a crack in the plate, none of them were especially eager to try it). "What do you think of Professor Evans?"

Hagrid gave them all a strange look. "I'd have thought yeh'd ask a question like tha' one in September, not January. Yeh know I shouldn' comment on other teachers to students."

"We know," said Hermione quickly. "We were just wondering because . . ."

"We saw a chocolate frog Wizard Card of him that said he helped pass several anti-giant laws," said Harry. He stared at Hagrid nervously, hoping he wouldn't get angry.

Hagrid, to their mild surprise, did not look annoyed or even the slightest bit perturbed. Instead he frowned thoughtfully and took another swig of tea. "Tha' was a while ago. I don't think I've thought 'bout tha' in years."

"Thought about what?" asked Ron.

"Evans' spree as an anti-giant crusader."

"So he's not anymore?" asked Harry, his mood lightening a bit.

Hagrid shook his head, his beard making rustling noises. "O' course not."

"Well then . . . why did he?"

Hagrid frowned again, as if unsure as to how to explain. "Evans and Dumbledore are cousins, you all know that. But yeh also know, Ron in particular, tha' relatives don't always get along. From what I understand, Evans was jealous o' Dumbledore when they were young men. Dumbledore fought for giant rights so Evans' fought against it. He also had several friends who were Aurors killed by the giants.

"It looked fer awhile he'd be another wizard with no respect for other species, but then he changed." Hagrid chuckled at their interested, skeptical faces before continuing. "A giant by the name o' Gerdel, who was good friends wi' Dumbledore, saved Evans' life when he was hiking in the mountains. Evans had also settled his difference with Dumbledore by then and he ended his career as an anti-giant activist."

Hermione was still incredulous. "But even so, he helped create laws against giants."

"They would've been passed wi'out his help," said Hagrid heavily. "Too much propaganda and a few too many true stories. Professor Evans' has always been courteous to me," he added, lest they still doubted him.

"He seems nice," Harry agreed, feeling his disbelief begin to recede.

"The only times he's mentioned giants in class he's shared stories from both points of view," said Ron.

Hagrid chuckled again. "Yer all worryin' fer nothing. Professor Dumbledore wouldn' 'ave given Evans the job if he didn't fully trust him, even if they are cousins."

* * *

The next day, Sunday, was Gryffindor's second Quidditch match, and Harry, remembering late the night before that he had to again give a pep talk, was slightly more prepared than previously. He managed not to pace in front of his teammates in the changing room, who were all sitting stolidly on the bench, faces determined. They would be playing Hufflepuff and Harry was not as nervous as he'd been when they played Ravenclaw. Angelina was also in the room, smiling proudly at the team. Katie and Ginny were huddled together on the bench, with Ron, a bit paler than normal but otherwise fine, next to them. Andrew and Jack hefted their clubs in what they probably hoped was a menacing fashion. Conrad was the whitest of all and sat at the end, tight-lipped. Harry didn't find it at all surprising that he was the most nervous. After all, this was his first Quidditch game.

He gave a pep talk that sounded so sincere and enthusiastic it surprised even himself and as the team headed out, Angelina leading, Harry waited for Conrad.

"You'll be fine today," he assured the first year, trying to squash his rising feelings of animosity. "I know it's your first game." Someone ahead made a sound like a stifled laugh, but Harry saw only Ginny trailing behind Katie. He turned back to Conrad. "You handle the Quaffle well and if you don't feel up to scoring pass the ball to Katie and Ginny and just make sure you're open if they need you."

It took a second for Conrad to nod, looking annoyed. Harry sighed, wondering again why they had taken such a disliking to each other from the first, and gave a forced smile, heading out the door onto the field.

Up in the stands he could see Hermione waving and cheering for Gryffindor, Neville, Seamus, and their other housemates next to her. Harry shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain. He mounted his Firebolt and waited for Madame Hooch's whistle to blow. After eyeing them all with her hawk-like gaze, she signaled for them to begin.

Harry instantly shot into the air, zooming around the field for a preliminary search for Snitch before slowing down and drifting far above so he could also get a clear view of the game. Katie had taken the Quaffle immediately and passed to Ginny. The two wove down the filed, routinely passing the ball, while Conrad hovered in the air behind them. Katie succeeded in scoring and Gryffindor received the first ten points of the game. Harry grinned, scanning the pitch. Ron was doing an excellent job of blocking, but then again, the Chasers were also keeping the Quaffle at the other end of the field for the most part.

For a few minutes it seemed as if Katie and Ginny had forgotten there was another Chaser for they never passed to Conrad and he never made any move to take the ball. Then, after scoring a second goal and stealing the ball from a Hufflepuff Chaser, Ginny looked around wildly for someone other than Katie, who was being barricaded by two enemy Chasers. Ginny hesitated for a split second before passing to Conrad, who caught it easily and looped a Hufflepuff Beater. He ducked past another Hufflepuff, feinted at he left hoop and threw the Quaffle neatly through the middle ring. There were cheers from the Gryffindor stands, and Harry could read Katie and Ginny's lips mouthing congratulations as Conrad doubled back.

Harry settled back on his broom and flew a little lower, dodging a Bludger. Satisfied and confident in Gryffindor's new Chaser, he circled the pitch with greater vigor, barely paying attention anymore to the score. Twice he thought he saw a glint of gold but lost it both times when he heard a cheering from the crowd. Aggravated that he was so unusually distracted, Harry felt a growing sense of admiration for Wood and Angelina. Obviously being Captain was distracting, and both had done their jobs spectacularly.

A few more minutes passed and Harry spotted a true sign of gold for the first time. Immediately he sped after it, becoming elated when he saw that it was indeed the Snitch, streaking around the opposite hoops. The Hufflepuff Seeker had spotted it right after Harry and was on his tail. Incredibly, though, there was a third person flying towards it. Harry nearly reigned in his Firebolt when he saw Conrad aiming for the winged gold ball, instead of at the Quaffle, which was at the Gryffindor end, currently in possession of the Hufflepuffs.

The Snitch rounded a hoop and went directly into the sun. Harry had to shield his eyes and when he opened them it had disappeared. The sound of dozens of Gryffindors groaning met his ears. The Hufflepuff Seekers looked lost as well, and Harry was about to fly higher in search of finding it there when he heard a collective gasp from the stands. Conrad, to his further amazement, was still streaking in the opposite direction of the Quaffle. The Snitch was clearly visible once more. Harry was off, wondering furiously what Conrad was doing. He urged the Firebolt faster. Conrad slowed, stopped, and allowed Harry to pass him, turning around and heading back to catch the Quaffle from a confused Katie.

Harry narrowly avoided hitting the right hoop and the Hufflepuff Keeper. He stretched out a hand and felt a fluttering wing on his fingertips. The next moment the Snitch was in his hand and he was flying towards the ground, yelling to his teammates. Gryffindors all over the stadium were cheering. Harry leapt off his broom, waving the Snitch as his teammates also descended. Ginny and Katie, both grinning fiercely, hugged him, and Angelina, being Madame Hooch's assistant and technically not supposed to take sides, beamed at him from the side. Harry turned to Conrad, the last player to come down. He looked reluctant to get off the broom and his smile seemed forced as he turned to Harry.

"Good game," Harry said, smiling broadly and holding out his hand.

Conrad, a pained expression on his face, looked at Harry's outstretched hand as if he wasn't sure it was safe to touch before quickly shaking it and turning away.

Even Conrad's attitude wouldn't upset him after their win, nor did he inquire as to the Chaser's strange behavior. It was almost as if he were trying to catch the Snitch. Harry could already hear a few grumbled from disappointed Hufflpuffs that Conrad, as a Chaser, was not supposed to have "shown" Harry where the Snitch was, but somehow Harry didn't think that had been Conrad's intent. Unlikely as it was, the first year seemed to have momentarily forgotten he was Chaser, not a Seeker.

"Conrad, you were excellent. That was- what?- three goals you scored?" Katie was exclaiming from a few feet away, cornering the third Chaser.

"What was the final score?" Harry asked Angelina as she came over.

"Two hundred forty to fifty," she said proudly before giving him a hug. Harry felt a now familiar jolt in his stomach and promptly forgot all about Conrad's strange behavior.

"Thank you for the Christmas present," he said in a rush.

Angelina seemed to blush slightly. "You're welcome."

Harry reached into his pocket, feeling suddenly self-consciously. He pulled out a small wrapped box which he'd hastily wrapped before the game.

"Sorry it's late," he said in a rush, holding it out for her to take. Angelina's eyes widened, and she took it rather hesitantly. Harry felt his cheeks redden as she opened it and saw the pretty glittering gold star-shaped broach Hermione had helped him pick out from an express catalog.

"Thanks," said Angelina, and he was surprised to see a warm flush in her face as well, though it was less visible against her dark skin. "It's really nice." She pinned it instantly to the top of her cloak, and Harry was relieved to see it looked good on her.

"Glad you like it," he said, grinning.

There was an awkward pause and then both simultaneously turned away to talk to the other students pouring out onto the field.

"Great catch, mate," said Ron, clapping Harry on the back. His expression was wary, though, and he lowered his voice. "What was Conrad-" He didn't finish, apparently at a loss as to how to explain the Chaser's behavior.

Harry shrugged, still grinning and feeling strangely elated. "Who knows?" Grinning, he turned to meet Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Gryffindor would be having another party that night.

* * *

Christmas break was too short in everyone's opinion but that did not stop it from ending, and the first Friday after classes had re-started Hermione was waiting outside the Room of Requirement for Draco. She had managed successfully to sneak an Ashwinder egg out of Potions and after pondering for several days, she had decided exactly where to make the Blushing Potion. It was probably not a good idea to use the Room of Requirement, seeing as how the potion wasn't exactly portable and she didn't know if the Room would be able to store it. After careful consideration, a much simpler, obvious solution came to her.

Draco's eyebrows rose when he approached and saw her waiting, but he didn't say anything, and Hermione took his silence as a question.

"I thought we could start the potion," she explained. "I have the ingredients, and I know exactly where we can make it."

She wondered if high eyebrow raising was something the Malfoy family considered a talent, because he was certainly good at it. "Where?"

"Follow me." Hermione led him back down several flights of stairs to what she was sure was the least likeliest place Draco had expected.

"A girls' bathroom?" he demanded in shocked tones. He squinted at the surrounding walls and frowned. "Wasn't this where all those attacks were in second year?"

Hermione nodded, remembering vividly the painted words on the wall threatening muggleborns, her own time at being Petrified, and shuddered.

"Yes, but it should be fine." Giving the hall one more glance to make sure it was empty of students, she entered the bathroom. Staring around, she was not surprised to see that it hadn't changed much in four years. It was still the broken down, empty lavatory it had always been. She could hear faint sighs coming from the farthest cubicle, and wondered how long it would be until Moaning Myrtle came out to investigate.

She turned back to the door, realized Draco hadn't entered, and peeked out. He stood, staring transfixed at the sign on the door proclaiming it an out of order girls' bathroom.

"What are you waiting for?" she demanded impatiently. "No one ever comes in here."

"But it's for girls," Draco argued. "What if a teacher comes in?"

"No one comes in here," Hermione repeated. "And in a minute you'll see why." She waited but he didn't budge. "You're acting like Ron," she added finally, knowing that the comparison was the ultimate bait. As expected, Draco glared at her and walked hesitatingly into the bathroom. Manipulating teenage boys was not nearly as hard as Hermione had assumed she thought rather gleefully as he stared around the decrepit bathroom in distaste.

"Who's that?" The wet-sounding, moaning voice interrupted her thoughts. Draco jumped, whirling around and staring open-mouthed at Myrtle, who had finally noticed she had guests and was hovering in front of them, her glasses a pearlier white than normal, as if she'd been weeping again.

"I'm Hermione," Hermione said politely, trying to sound friendly. "Remember me from a few years ago?" She pointed at Draco. "And this is Conrad Johnson."

Myrtle fixed Draco with a shrewd glare. "You're a boy."

Draco stared at her as if she were a halfwit. "Yes, surprising as it may seem to you, I do know that."

Myrtle sniffed, and Hermione winced, hoping she wasn't about to cry.

"You're not at all pleasant," she announced, and turned back to Hermione, surveying her once more. "You're the friend of that handsome boy with the glasses," she said, drifting closer. "Harry Potter." Hermione tried not to laugh at the dreamy quality in her tone. Draco choked at the description.

"Just how many boys do you bring in here?"

"Oh, she and Harry were in here with their other friend, the redhead, for ages," Myrtle explained, giving Draco a haughty look. "How many years has it been? Being dead gives one no reason to keep track of the time."

"Four years," Hermione said helpfully.

Draco's eyes widened. "Wait . . . you three were in here during second year? Doing what?" he asked suspiciously. "Is this what you mentioned at Christmas?"

Hermione turned bright red as she realized Myrtle could tell him all about the Polyjuice Potion. She had completely forgotten he was trying to figure out what they'd been doing.

"What?" Draco asked immediately, sensing by her silence that he was correct. He rounded on Myrtle. "What were they doing?"

"I don't like you so I shan't say," Myrtle replied quite primly. Draco looked furious.

Hermione pointed out a cauldron she had brought to the bathroom earlier and all the various ingredients laid out around it. All the items were in the far end of the bathroom next to a cubicle. Draco's eyes lit up and he moved away from Myrtle, who sniffed again and floated back to her toilet.

"Who's that?" Draco whispered as soon as the ghost was presumably out of earshot.

"She's called Moaning Myrtle," Hermione explained quietly. "She was killed when the Chamber of Secrets was opened the first time a little over fifty years ago."

Draco's eyes widened and he glanced more thoughtfully back at where Myrtle had been. "Does she always look like she's about to weep?"

"Why do you think this bathroom is out of order?" Hermione retorted. "It's flooded half the time."

Draco looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or be disgusted. They set about preparing the ingredients and after a quarter of an hour had finished the first part. Hermione was pleased to see the potion was the exact color it should be and looked precisely like it had when she'd made it in class.

"Congratulations on the Quidditch match," Hermione while they waited for it to simmer for a few minutes. "You played really well considering it's your first time as a Chaser."

"Thanks," Draco said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"It wasn't too terrible playing for Gryffindor, right?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Draco paused for a moment before ruefully shaking his head. "No," he admitted. "It was easier than I thought. I sort of forgot what team I was playing on during the actual game."

Hermione waited a few more moments before asking the question she was really curious about. "When you started flying after the Snitch . . . was that because . . . did you forget you weren't the Seeker."

Draco flushed slightly. "Well, I certainly wasn't deliberately showing Potter where it was," he said evasively, answering her query all the same. Hermione did not press the subject.

Moans echoed from the stall next to them. Hermione had unwittingly and inconveniently chosen a spot right next to Myrtle's toilet. The ghost, looking interested despite herself but still making odd sobbing sounds, though she was not crying, drifted around staring at the cauldron.

"Is this going to take as long as that last potion did?" she asked. "What are you making this time?"

"A Blushing Potion. Conrad fancies another first year and I'm helping him speed things up a little." The lie came automatically to Hermione, and she said the words without thinking. Draco gaped furiously at her, turning crimson as Myrtle led out a loud chortle.

"You're using my bathroom to make a Love Potion? Oh, how delightfully wicked!" she exclaimed in glee. "This is quite as good as the last one." She eyed Draco beadily. "Whom do you fancy?"

"No one!" he said instantly, aghast and still glaring at Hermione. "What potion did they make?"

"Conrad," Hermione snapped, but he ignored her. She doubted Myrtle even knew the Polyjuice Potion by name. They hadn't exactly explained to her what they were doing in second year.

"Tell me whom you like, and I'll tell you what potion they made."

"I don't-" He had a sinisterly crafty look on his face. "Fine. I fancy . . ." Draco thought for a moment. Hermione glared furiously at him but he paid no attention. "Anna Wallarty." He sighed quietly, but Hermione was too mad to find it at all amusing.

"Don't-" she began.

"It changed their appearances," Myrtle said, a faraway look in her eyes as she remembered. "I don't know the name, but it made Harry and his friend look like two bully type boys I'd never seen before. Hermione-" at his she giggled, "messed up her potion and turned into a-"

"Don't," Hermione repeated angrily, turning very red. This time Myrtle listened and did not mention her humiliating experience as a cat.

Draco looked triumphant. He thought silently for a moment. Hermione did not like the suddenly suspicious expression on his face. "What did they look like?"

"Both boys were big and broad. They were all brawn and looked quite stupid. The redhead was taller. They had Slytherin robes on," Myrtle remembered suddenly.

Hermione winced. Draco's eyes widened and his expression turned to one of outrage. "She's not- is she talking about a Polyjuice Potion?"

"That's it!" Myrtle exclaimed, pointing a pale, transparent finger at Draco.

Hermione blushed fiercely as Draco turned on her, positively shaking with anger. "You made a Polyjuice Potion in a girls' bathroom, probably against school rules, and Potter and Weasley then used it to turn into Slytherins?"

"Not just any Slytherins," Myrtle added. "They were trying to spy on someone in particular." She impersonated Hermione, using a miraculously decongested voice. "'Only a few more days until the potion's ready, and then we can interrogate Malfoy and see if he's the heir of Slytherin'." She looked quite pleased with herself for having remembered the gist of it so well.

"They turned into Crabbe and Goyle to spy on me?" Draco thundered.

Hermione hesitated and then nodded.

Draco glared at her, his face showing nothing but anger. "Why did you spy on me?"

"We thought you might be the Heir of Slytherin." Hermione didn't bother trying to hide the truth anymore now that he knew. She was furious, too. "In case you've forgotten I'm a muggleborn and it was all muggleborns who were being attacked!" She was surprised to hear herself yelling.

"So you thought I was going to kill you?" Draco shouted back.

"You might've then!"

Draco was silent for a moment, and Hermione froze, sure his reaction would be agreement.

"I don't kill people," Draco said after a moment, his voice shaking. "I may not have liked you, but I certainly wouldn't have killed you."

"You said you wanted me dead a few months ago," Hermione shot back, stunned at the hidden hurt in his tone and feeling the sudden need to defend herself.

Draco paused for his longest break yet. When he spoke again his voice was quiet, resigned, and trying to hold back anger. "Sometimes people say things they don't mean when they're angry. And besides, like you said at Christmas, Hermione, people change."

Giving her one last steely look, he glared at Myrtle as well and stalked out of the bathroom without another word. Hermione stared after him, open-mouthed and shocked. Myrtle's surprised, intrigued voice broke into her thoughts.

"What did he mean by 'spy on me'?" she asked suspiciously, giving Hermione a shrewd look. "He was- you said his name was Conrad. Isn't he a first year?"

Hermione rubbed her temples, still angry at the ghost but knowing their blow up had also just destroyed their cover story. Wearily she mumbled that yes, it was Malfoy, no he wasn't dead, and the few other necessary details. She ended up leaving the bathroom as well ten minutes later, mad, tired, and grim.

How dare he blatantly lie to Myrtle to learn a secret he knew she didn't want him to know! And then he completely overreacted about something that had happened four years ago. Hermione would not be the one going back to him and setting up another study session this time. He had walked out on her, and if he "enjoyed" her company as much as Ginny seemed to think, it would be up to him to set up another tutoring session. Hermione scowled as she headed back for Gryffindor. So much for Ginny's idea.

* * *

A few weeks passed. After the first week since the episode in the bathroom Draco had grudgingly approached Hermione to set up a time, but they had not spoken of anything but the when and where. Their next meetings were short and in the Room of Requirement. Neither talked except for when Hermione gave him assignments or answered his rare question. They did not go back to the bathroom and there was no mention of what had transpired, but there was a rift now, and both were stubbornly refusing to broach the subject. Hermione went back to the bathroom several times on her own to check on the potion. She made the few necessary adjustments and then left it simmering. Perhaps they would never get past their stalemate, and the potion would stay untouched in the bathroom for an indefinite amount of time, until an unwitting person saw it and investigated. Someone may even be dimwitted enough to taste it, Hermione had once thought sourly during a particularly unpleasant session. That would be a laugh, albeit a bitter one.

To her minor surprise, after learning of their fight, Ginny half-heartedly suggested she try to talk to him. Hermione had refused flat-out and then become quite snappish, asking why Ginny was now taking Malfoy's side. Ginny had responded she wasn't, that he was still an amoral prat, but that it seemed like an awfully silly thing to ruin their progressing friendship over.

One early morning in late January Hermione was awakened in the girls' dormitory by something pounding her stomach rather insistently. She jerked upright, groggily blinked a few times and stared blearily at the thing beside her bed hitting her.

It took her a minute to recognize the creature, so long had it been since she's seen her.

"Winky?"

The elf blinked and bobbed her head almost apologetically. She wore a pretty blouse and skirt and looked much cleaner and sober than the last time Hermione had seen her, but it was unmistakably Crouch's old elf.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione whispered, glancing worriedly around at Parvati and Lavender, who were both still sleeping peacefully in their beds. She yawned and looked at her clock. It was very early in the morning.

"Dobby is being sent to come, miss, but he didn't want to as it's a dormitory for girls and asked me to deliver the message," Winky explained. She did not hiccup once and Hermione wondered vaguely if she were still dreaming.

"What message? From whom?"

"Master Draco."

Again, Hermione had to think for several seconds before comprehending this, so unused she was to hearing the preceding title.

"Why are you calling him 'Master'?" she asked disapprovingly. "And does he know what ungodly hour it is to be awake on a weekend?"

Come to think of it, how did Winky know who he was considering he was supposed to be Conrad?

"He said it's urgent and is asking that you come to the Room of Requirement," Winky said, her voice high and squeaky.

Hermione stared. "Now?"

Winky bobbed her head again. Hermione wished she would stop doing that. It was making her feel quite dizzy so early in the morning.

"Whatever for?"

Winky gave a half-shrug. "Winky doesn't know." Her eyes widened until they resembled round saucers. "But it's important. Winky only did what Dobby asked." She gave a nervous glance around the dormitory and retreated several steps. "Winky will go now, if Miss Hermione doesn't mind. Master Draco is waiting in the Room of Requirement."

Hermione sighed and thanked the House-Elf, who immediately turned and scampered out of the room. She clambered out of bed, checking the clock once more to make sure she hadn't misread the time. No, it was definitely as early as she'd thought.

Yawning again, she wrapped a pink bathrobe around herself, grabbed her wand, and shuffled down the stairs in her slippers. Only when she reached the portrait did Hermione consider that she didn't have to go meet Draco. Whatever it was, it could probably wait until a decent hour. Although, she thought, hesitating at the portrait, he had sent Dobby, who then felt it was important enough to send Winky. Perhaps it would be best to just go check and see what was going on. Nervously Hermione opened the portrait and climbed out, watching the halls carefully to make sure Filch and Mrs. Norris weren't about.

She padded silently down the hall, wishing she had Harry's Invisibility Cloak or even a less conspicuous colored bathrobe. Fortunately the only other person she saw was Peeves, but he was too busy defacing the door to the teachers' staffroom that he didn't notice Hermione slip past. At last she got to the Room of Requirement and, relieved to be there at last, opened the door without pausing.

She shut the door carefully before beginning to speak. "What on earth could possibly be so important that you sent A House-Elf to wake me at five in the-"

Hermione gasped.

Draco turned from where he had been standing by the empty fireplace, facing away from her. He looked intensely relieved to see her and started forward.

"Thank you for coming-"

Hermione stared at him in shock. His hair was tousled and he was in a loose tee shirt and long pants with a hastily fastened cloak, but that wasn't the biggest surprise of all. He was a good two inches taller than her, and his hair was blonde.

In physical terms, it was the real Draco Malfoy.

Hermione found it hard to breathe. "What happened," she choked out. "Is it- is it broken?"

"No." There was evident regret in his voice. "I don't think so. I've been studying Moste Potente Potions and I read a footnote I didn't see before. Apparently every six months exactly the victim will change back for twenty-four hours."

"There's a loophole?" Hermione cried. She tried to think of something more to say but couldn't. She could only stare in amazement, transfixed. It was like she was seeing him for the first time, as if nothing had happened between the end of fifth year and now. A tendril of foreboding crept through her stomach and she swallowed.

"What's the matter?" Draco sounded worried. He stepped forward, a hand outstretched as if to touch her arm. "You look like you're about to faint."

Hermione instinctively stepped back. Her throat had closed up, and no words would come to her. Her mind was utterly blank, impervious to the confused, concerned look on his face. The only thoughts that would surface were bad memories, ones filled with a hateful, smirking Malfoy that she loathed and didn't want anywhere near her.

She shivered, staring at him and half-wishing he still looked like a first year.

Abruptly, Draco dropped his hand, realizing what her silence meant. His expression hardened and he stepped back.

"I shouldn't have sent Dobby to get you." His tone was cool and distant.

Hermione made an indistinct noise.

He studied her, waiting for her to speak.

"I-" Hermione tried, finally able to make feeble attempts at speech now that her initial shock was draining. "You-" She didn't know what she was trying to say, though. How to tell him that she didn't want to see him like this, that it made her feel like nothing had ever changed between them?

He raised his wand, and she instinctively started, whipping her own wand out reflexively and holding it up in defense.

Draco stared at her, stunned and hurt. He had to clear his throat several times before being able to speak. "I was just going to light a fire in case you were cold." He muttered a spell and a crackling flame ignited in the hearth.

Hermione reddened but still didn't speak. Neither moved. At last Draco stepped forward again. Hermione drew back, instinctively frowning.

Draco stopped. "I apologized at Christmas," he said with difficulty, his voice a bare whisper, yet clearly audible even above the crackles of the fire. He turned and pocketed his wand, not even giving her a backward glance. "Is my hair color really all that matters to you?"

Hermione flinched as if she'd been slapped. She glared at him. "I am not shallow like that, Draco Malfoy."

"Prove it," he snapped. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't wish I were still a first year."

"I don't," Hermione replied fiercely, taking a step forward and trying to tell herself that it was the truth. "But you can't blame me for being shocked. It's not like we've been on the best of terms lately."

Draco looked as if this were an understatement and did not contradict her.

"You're being ridiculous," Hermione continued, still glaring.

"No, you are," said Draco, in a surprisingly determined voice. "You're the one recoiling every time you look at me."

Hermione had no answer to that.

He moved to the couch and sat down, looking into the flames as he spoke broodingly. "I guess it's true that Slytherins and Gryffindors can't ever really be friends."

A silence followed. Hermione found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed. Her mind was still numb with shock, and she did not like being there in just her nightdress and bathrobe. The fire was lit but was not warming her body or helping her senses adjust. She tried to take deep, relaxing breaths, but it was hard staring at Malfoy. Hermione, suddenly physically tired but uncomfortable with the idea of sitting on the couch perched delicately on a chair. The table looked rather odd without their normal number of books and parchment spread on it. She studied Draco silently, but he did not look her way, seeming to find the fire more interesting. It was the first time in almost a year since she had seen his real face, and it was almost identical to the Malfoy she had known and yet at the same time it had changed as well. He was not glaring at anything in particular, just brooding grimly. The look on his face certainly wasn't happy, and Hermione wondered, her chest uncomfortably tight, if he was really hurt by her reaction. She hadn't meant to be so rude and brusque, but never had she expected to see him like that. Even now her subconscious was half-wondering why he wasn't sneering at her. In fact, now that she thought of it, his face looked quite different without its trademark smirk.

"That's not true," Hermione said suddenly. She sat up straighter, feeling quite determined to make her point clear, though she didn't even know what that point was. "Gryffindors and Slytherins can be friends."

For the first time in many minutes he looked up, and she got the impression he was almost amused.

"I thought we agreed months ago that we couldn't- and wouldn't- be friends. That we were simply acquaintances who tolerated each other."

"Well- that's changed," Hermione said, flustered. "We didn't realize- I mean, that is, I thought we were friends."

She held his gaze, unable to tear her eyes away from his. They were gray again, an entrancing silvery gray that reflected the flickering flames so they looked darker.

"We can't be friends if you can't look at me without shuddering," Draco said, much more articulate than she.

"I'm not shuddering now, am I?" Hermione said quietly.

He shook his head so their eye contact was broken and his blonde hair swished to and fro.

"It's not bad hair," Hermione tried, hoping to make light of the situation, relieved they were starting to make amends. She struggled for words. "I suppose the brown was a bit dull."

A small smile crossed his lips.

"And if you still don't think Gryffindors and Slytherins can be friends, we could be "friendly" acquaintances," Hermione suggested.

The smile grew bigger. "That doesn't sound so bad."

The silence grew longer again, but it was not such an oppressive one. Hermione shifted, one other urgent matter pressing on her mind, one she knew had to be resolved before things between them could be truly settled.

She cleared her throat. "About what happened in the bathroom . . ."

Draco's head shot up, suddenly wary.

"I know you're offended over what we did in second year, but back then we thought it was necessary. I can't apologize for our feelings then, but I am sorry you found out."

"I shouldn't have made such a big deal out of it," Draco said, brooding once more. "If- if you really thought I would've killed you, then I can't really blame you for trying to find out for sure." He wouldn't look at her, though, as if the thought still pained him.

Hermione bit her lip. She couldn't deny what they'd thought and she didn't want to. "I didn't want you to find out." She gave him a reproachful glance. "I wish you hadn't asked Myrtle."

"I was curious. And you started it by telling her I was making the Blushing Potion to use on a secret crush." He rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised she believed it, absurd of a lie as it is."

"And you said Gryffindors couldn't tell good lies."

"I'm starting to rub off on you, that's all." He smirked. Hermione felt chilled seeing the familiar expression on that face but struggled to remain smiling. As if sensing her discomfort he stopped.

"Are you going to tell me what happened precisely?" Draco asked finally.

Hermione shrugged. "It doesn't matter whether you know or not, anymore, I guess." She launched into the story of using Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to make the Polyjuice Potion in, how Harry and Ron had changed into Goyle and Crabbe, respectively and then entered the Slytherin common room.

"And how exactly did they do that?" Draco asked, frowning.

Hermione struggled to remember all that they had told her of their adventure. "You found them and led them back." She finished the story, including all the details she could recall.

When she was done Draco looked extremely grumpy. "I can't believe you made a Polyjuice Potion in second year," he said grouchily, arms crossed. "And then used it specifically for the purpose of spying on little old me. You thought I was the Heir of Slytheirn!" This thought seemed to cheer him up slightly and then another made him grin even more. "Why didn't you come? You didn't let Myrtle finish her sentence in the bathroom."

Hermione flushed a furious red. She had not mentioned the cat part and was not going to. "Suffice it to say that my potion got a little messed up," she said, still blushing. "And that's all the information I'm giving you on that subject."

Draco looked rather put out but then smirked gleefully. "I'm sure Myrtle will be glad to tell me . . ."

"Don't," Hermione protested, beginning to get annoyed again. "It's embarrassing, and it's my business. Please don't ask."

For a moment she thought Draco was going to get cross again, but to her surprise he said in a quiet, gentle voice.

"I won't, Hermione. I promise." There was a caring look on his face that was altogether too odd. Hermione blinked.

Somehow, she knew he wasn't lying.

"Tell me more about this footnote," Hermione suggested, suddenly feeling uncomfortable again but this time not sure why.

He responded by pulling Moste Potente Potions closer to him on the couch and opening to a bookmarked page. He read aloud:

"Every six months exactly the victim of the curse will turn back into him or herself for the duration of twenty-four hours, or one day, starting at midnight and ending at twelve the next day." He passed the book to her to look at without waiting for her to ask. "That's undoubtedly what happened. Now we know for sure this is the right curse."

He rubbed his head, suddenly weary.

"It's something, at least," Hermione said as comfortingly as she could. She glanced at her watch. Almost an hour had passed. Ordinarily she would had just stayed up since she would have to wake up for classes a little later anyway, but it was a Saturday morning, and Harry and Ron would be sleeping in late.

"Are you going to stay here the whole day?" Hermione asked. An idea occurred and she brightened excitedly. "Or were you thinking of going to a teacher? Today would be a perfect day to tell someone, since they'd know you were telling the truth when you change back."

Draco shook his head. "I'd like to keep it secret." He hesitated. "I still don't know what my greatest fear is but I'm staring to think of ideas, which is a start."

"Such as?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I suppose . . . after all this . . . You-Know-Who's something to be rather frightened of, isn't he?"

"Voldemort," Hermione substituted, wondering why this sounded like such a revelation to him. Perhaps it was because, since his father was a Death Eater, he had never considered himself in danger. "Yes, I would expect him to be." She shivered. "I certainly wouldn't want to fight him. Harry's incredibly brave."

"We're not talking about Potter," Draco snapped, clearly annoyed at the sudden turn in the conversation.

Hermione bit back a sharp retort. "So you think you're greatest fear is Voldemort? Then what would facing it require? Confronting him? Accompanying Harry to his next face-off?"

Draco choked, and Hermione smiled unabashedly.

"Potter expects to have many more of those, now, does he?"

"Until he defeats him, yes."

"I'll look to the Daily Prophet for updates," Draco promised, grinning. Hermione laughed, feeling more at ease than she had in several weeks. Of course, it was nothing really to joke about, considering the wizarding world was at stake but somehow Draco's light-hearted joking words comforted her in a way no other statements ever had, except perhaps Dumbledore's.

"I am planning on staying here the whole day," Draco said, finally answering her original question. "I don't think there's anywhere else I can really go." He looked around, somewhat glumly. "It's an awful waste spending my only loophole day cooped up in here but I'll manage."

"We have a trip to Hogsmeade scheduled for today," Hermione said. Draco nodded seemingly indifferent, but Hermione got the impression his expression was false.

"Have fun," he said, his tone monotonous. "You should probably go back to Gryffindor now, anyway."

Clearly, he didn't want her there anymore. She got to her feet, stifled a yawn, and headed for the door.

"Is there anything you need?" she asked impulsively. "Since you can't really leave the room . . ."

Draco shrugged. "I don't think so." He turned back to the fire, his silhouette dark and impressive in front of the dancing light.

Hermione nodded and quietly turned. She peered into the hall before stepping out and making her way carefully back to Gryffindor Tower. She sighed after successfully getting past the Fat Lady without her asking any questions and having avoided Peeves and Filch. Hermione climbed the stairs to her dormitory, once again feeling highly amazed. Climbing back into her bed after making sure Lavender and Parvati were still asleep, she reflected that it was highly amusing and a bit sad to think that nearly all the castle's inhabitants thought Draco was dead whereas he was really in the Room of Requirement, and for once, if anyone spotted him, they would have recognized him immediately.