Sympathy for the Slytherin

Author’s Notes: For anyone who was worried, the new Draco is not thaaaat new. Those devil’s horns are still peeking through and we would never want him to lose his sharp tongue. Heh. There are some “Prisoner of Azkaban” references and I hope I’m right about what Draco might not know. Also, all these plots are taking off but I’ll try to keep the Draco/Hermione stuff plentiful. Bon appetite!

Sympathy for the Slytherin

Chapter 7: Bolt Bounding

“Malfoy! MALFOY! For God’s sake...”

Ron prodded the seemingly comatose Slytherin again and shrugged at Harry. Across the room a second year grumbled and burrowed under his pillow. Things worked fast in the wizarding world. Hermione, Ron, Harry and Draco were asked if they would mind getting up early in the morning the very next day after their detention. Of course, the very next day was Sunday and their usual opportunity for sleeping in. Dumbledore admitted that specialists had already traveled to Hogwarts by floo powder due to the headmaster’s deductions about their respective talents. Charged with the excitement of having unusually powerful gifts, the four agreed though Ron and Harry were now mentally kicking themselves and wanted nothing more then to crawl back into their warm beds.

“I thought he had trouble sleeping,” Harry protested, rubbing his own half-shut eyes.

Ron glanced at the clock which read, “No time to dawdle.”

“Brother...” Ron muttered.

They heard a knock on the door of Draco’s room and Hermione’s voice rang out.

“Are you up in there?!”

Ron let Hermione in and rose and eyebrow. “Draco is... what’s the word?”

“Zonked,” Harry answered.

Hermione smiled, glad that Draco was now getting sleep even if it meant they would be a few minutes late for their first morning of training. She also knew that if his experience had been anything like hers, he got to sleep very late. Dumbledore had insisted they go straight to bed from his conference. Which they did, except that Hermione had lain awake for what seemed like hours thinking about that incredible kiss. Had she asked him, she would’ve been right. Draco had thought of nothing but Hermione until quite late.

“Maybe you can work some magic,” Ron said knowingly.

Hermione tossed him a look but strode over to Draco’s bed where he slept, his face all relaxed innocence, stray blonde locks shuttering one eye and knelt beside him.

“Draco? C’mon, wake up, dragon breath,” she said wryly.

Draco stirred, stretched with his eyes still closed and then opened them to see the face of his pretty tutor. Draco smiled in an uncharacteristically loopy manner.

“Hello, love,” he said lazily.

Hermione glanced nervously up at Harry and Ron. “Er, still half asleep,” she said, attempting a chuckle.

“Of course,” Harry said smirking.

“Draco,” Hermione hissed. “We’ve got training! You’ve got to get up!”

Draco stretched again and rolled over onto his back to see Harry and Ron looming over him.

“What’s this?” he said. “The Brothers Dim? Out to raid my memories once more?”

“Oh honestly, Draco...” Hermione sighed.

“Look, I’m not apologizing again,” Ron insisted.

“Harry, Ron,” Hermione said, “you two just go get ready. I can handle this one.”

The two boys shrugged and left and Hermione turned back to her romantic interest. She reached for a spritzer bottle of pink liquid and fixed Draco with a determined look.

“Open,” she directed.

Draco obediently opened his maw and Hermione sprayed a shot of Morning Mouth into it. Having gotten cleaned up and dressed a half hour ago, Hermione needed none herself.

“I do not have dragon’s breath,” Draco said weakly.

“You are in a mental state which we muggleborns like to refer to as ‘denial’,” Hermione said in a deliberately patronizing tone.

“And you are in ‘de Amazon,” Draco retorted.

Hermione chuckled but the moment was followed by an awkward pause.

Draco let out a breath and said, ”So...”

“So...” Hermione returned.

Draco sat up on the edge of his bed and stared into Hermione’s eyes. The two of them had had no chance to elaborate on their little incident in the forest and Draco couldn’t help but wonder if she regretted anything.

“About last night...” he said.

“Yeah?” Hermione breathed.

Draco clasped her hand in his and played with her fingers.

“I...I...” Draco struggled for words. An unusual problem for him. “That is... I like... well, there’s you and then... there’s me. Or I.”

Hermione was charmed. “Draco Malfoy, are you trying to tell me you fancy me?”

“Don’t toy with a man on the edge, prefect,” Draco said in a sorry attempt at his usual drawl.

“Do you like me?” Hermione asked gleefully. “Or do you like me-like me?”

Enough with the clever banter, Draco thought to himself. This was serious. Draco leaned forward and kissed Hermione softly.

“I like you,” he whispered. He planted several more soft kisses and whispered, “I like you-like you-like you...”

The funny thing was, he could actually feel her blush.

“I like you too,” she answered. She kissed him on the lips and Draco felt his heart bouncing up and down. And then she leaned back and smiled like the playful minx, he’d always known she could be.

“Please, sir, can I have some more?” Draco pleaded pitifully.

“Not if you call me sir,” Hermione replied but kissed him again anyway. She stopped just as quickly, her head cocked to one side.

“You’ve read Dickens?”

Draco wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “Dickens was a squib.”

Hermione gasped. “Nooooo!”

“I think he wrote all those lousy novels to compensate,” Draco said.

“Enough book talk,” he declared, entangling his hands in Hermione’s hair. “No morning is complete without a good snog.”

Hermione shook her head but smiled. “Not for people with purple lights shooting out of their extremities. Get up, lazy bones.”

Draco growled and forced himself out of bed.

**********************************************************

At the far end of the Gryffindor table sat three exhausted boys resentfully eating eggs and one perfectly energized Hermione. Dumbledore had ordered the house elves to serve a special breakfast to his beloved Gryffindors since they were getting up so much earlier then the rest of the school to train.

“It doesn’t seem quite fair, “ said Ron, “that my dear sister has one of these special gifts or whatever but she doesn’t have to get up at seven o’clock in the morning on a Sunday. And five o’clock on Monday and Wednesday! Five o’clock in the bloody morning!”

Hermione swallowed a bite of sausage. “Your dear sister spends the majority of her Saturday down in the dungeon and a couple of her weeknights as well.”

“Yes,” said Ron, “but Ginny doesn’t have to get up early for quidditch practice on Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Oh, whine whine whine,” Hermione sighed.

“I have to go to two different training sessions,” Draco pointed out. “One with Potter here and one to learn about persuading.”

Hermione patted his hand and smiled sweetly. “Yes, Monsieur Draco, you’re very special.”

Draco huffed, “I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Yes, you did,” Ron said easily. “Besides, the rest of you only go twice a week. And your Persuader training is only half an hour.”

“Bicker, bicker, bicker,” Hermione muttered.

“I wonder why there’s no class for parsel mouths,” Harry said, leaning on his fist.

Draco shrugged. “What do you have to learn for that? You see a snake, you start talking.”

“Yes,” Harry said, “but I wonder if snakes in other countries have different dialects or anything.”

Ron laughed. “What? Like a snake with a Spanish accent?”

“Possibly!” Harry yipped, looking slightly affronted.

Hermione was smiling slyly at Draco. “So Draco, Harry can make a snake do anything he wants and you can’t make me do anything.”

Draco looked pleasantly astonished and rose his eyebrows. “Keep talking like that, woman, and we can try it again!”

“Oh brother,” Ron said, curling his lip.

“Soooooo, Hermione,” Harry said, seeing Ron sulking at Draco and Hermione’s obvious flirtation. “Any interesting dreams?”

“Sort of,” she said. “But I don’t know what it means, as per usual. Just a bird’s wings flapping.”

“That’s it?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Flapping bird’s wings. A black bird... maybe the same one I saw perched on your shoulder in the other dream, Ron.”

They sat and thought about it for a moment, but no one could figure out what the bird meant.

“Who do you think will be our teachers anyway?” Harry asked.

“Ministry specialists,” Hermione said, shrugging. “Dumbledore said there are a couple of persuaders in the ministry. And certainly telepaths and prophetic dreamers. But I can’t guess who’s going to train you and Draco. No one in the world has ever been in your exact situation.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, ”you two are a couple of freaks.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the Weasley boy. “Hey, Weasley. Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

Ron frowned and then his eyes widened. “Kiss your mother with that mind?”

“No. But you can kiss my-”

“Draco!”

**********************************************************

Hermione, typical overachiever, sat in McGonagall’s room, the only student in a class of one. She shifted around in the center seat of the front row, fresh parchment and quill in front of her, feeling rather dubious about any divination specialist, even if it wasn’t Trelawney. She tapped her quill impatiently and began to wonder if she had the wrong room. Suddenly the door was thrown open and an imposing figure in black and silver robes entered.

“Ah! Fraulein Granger! Guten morgen! Wie gates? Ich heisse Frau Traumdeuter.”

Hermione blinked.

Frau Traumdeuter stood regally before her, and with her graying dark hair pulled so tightly back, she looked permanently surprised. She stared down her severe hawk nose at the hapless Gryffindor expectantly.

“Um,” Hermione stuttered. “I...I’m sorry, Frau Traumdeuter. I... I don’t speak German.”

She was faltering because she was starting to wonder if she should know German. Was divination a German art at it’s root? How would she have missed that?

Oh dear...

But Frau Traumdeuter was chuckling now and shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Mizz Granger. Entschuldigung. I ‘ave never taught a closs in English before and eet’s zo early in ze morning.”

“That’s alright,” Hermione assured her.

“A few sings you should know,” the Frau said, leaning back on McGonagall’s desk. “I am a specialist in dream prophecy for the ministry and I would like eet noted I did not seek out zis occupation. It sought me out.”

Hermione smiled wryly.

“I mean, come on,” the prophetess said, throwing her hands in the air, “I’m German for Merlin’s zake! I don’t go een for zis sort of ting! It took a lot of convincing for me to take divination seriously. But you may be surprised to find zat it is a leetle more zientific then you suspected! Ve are goink to write dream logs! Study symbolism and learn to sort out prophecy from simple zychological influence.”

Hermione nodded and wondered if Traumdeuter was maybe a little telepathic as well. She seemed to be reading Hermione’s mind.

“Now!” the Frau said abruptly. “Tell me about your dreams!”

**********************************************************

Ron felt all out of sorts. Not until this very moment, standing before the door to Flitwich’s classroom, had he felt nervous. There had always been something oddly comforting about being one of many children in a family. Another Weasley, the charming but otherwise unremarkable best friend... No spectacular expectations. Just bumbling alongside Harry on one adventure or another. Well, alright, he was great at chess and a solid quidditch player. But this telepathy thing was different. This had the possibility of becoming his defining feature. He’d been singled out. It felt... alien. But also pretty thrilling. So Ron cleared his throat and opened the door and seeing five very anxious looking sorts all in ministry robes, he hesitated for a moment. They all looked young, not much older then Percy.

They also looked excited. They were excited too. Ron could hear them all thinking. From what Ron could hear, all of them but one were thinking of what an important moment this was and how this Weasley kid could be the most powerful telepath since Chekov Biuerskefsky (whoever that was) and how lucky they were to be present on such a great historical moment. But walking into the room, Ron heard one very loud voice sounding rather buzzy and shouting, “JELLY AND BISCUITS! JELLY AND BISCUITS! JELLY AND BISCUITS! YUM YUM YUM!” And he was thinking it in a gruff Scottish accent.

“Er... is this...?” he started to say.

“Aha!” One of them yelped, striding forward and sticking out a hand to shake. “An absolute privilege to meet you, Ron!”

“Oh!” Ron said, rather surprised. “Thank you.”

“Very good!” he said happily. “Howdyedo? I am Brian Ashes, assistant to the Minister of Telepathy and Kinesis over at the ministry.”

“How do you do, “ Ron said automatically. He smiled nervously but cast sidelong glances at the four others hovering nearby and eyeing him like he was the latest model of Nimbus.

“And, of course,” Brian said, chuckling, “you’re wondering who all of these people are.”

“Well, yes,” He admitted.

A young woman with short black hair and black rimmed glasses stepped forward and smiled. “I’m Moira,” she said brightly, shaking his hand. “I’m an intern at T and K. Wonderful to meet you.”

A blonde man with a goatee looked equally jubilant and a little awestruck. “And I’m Krell. I’m a T and K caseworker. An honor,” he said, pumping Ron’s hand up and down.

“Nicolae,” another said, “Intern. Pleasure, sir!”

Ron balked. Sir?

“Gaidia, “ the other woman, this one with hair much like Ginny’s said. “Assistant to the vice minister. Excellent!”

Brian regarded Ron. The sixteen year-old looked winded. He gestured to a desk in the front row and Ron sat, the others sitting in chairs facing him with Brian in the middle.

“Now, Ron,” Brian started to say. “I have brought my colleagues with me because you present to us an exciting opportunity!”

“A once in a lifetime opportunity!” Gaidia piped up.

Ron was flummoxed. “I... I do?”

“From what Headmaster Dumbledore has told us, you’re more advanced already then most telepaths ever become.”

“Oh,” he said. “Wow.”

“Is it true you can hear people in other countries who you don’t even know?” Gaidia asked.

“Well, yeah,” Ron said, blushing.

The four assistants collectively oohed and ahhed and Ron just laughed nervously. Brian unrolled a parchment then and took out his wand, clearing his throat.

“Right,” Brian said determinedly. “We already have the details of the case and right now we’d like to perform a few... tests to see exactly how advanced you are. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” Ron squeaked.

“We’ll start very simply,” Brian said. “Now, you’re going to leave the room and I’m going to give a card with a word on it to Nicolae, Gaidia, Moira and Krell which they will all be thinking clearly in their minds but which they will not allow you to see When you come in, I want you to tell me what their words are. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ron said, sounding much more confident then he was.

Ron got up and went outside, completely unsure of himself. He stood by a window in the corridor and looked out on the early autumn morning. He watched a bird fly from a turret, soar low over the lake and circle around back toward the castle. The bird settled on a ledge near his window and Ron gazed at it, noticing that it was an odd but beautiful bird, black with white tail feathers. And then the thought of Hermione’s dream hit him with full force.

Flapping bird’s wings. A black bird... maybe the same one I saw perched on your shoulder...

“Hey-” Ron stuttered.

“Mr.Weasley!” Ron heard a shrill voice say.

Ron spun around to see a grinning Professor McGonagall making her way down the hall. He immediately took mental inventory, wondering what he had done wrong, only to read in her wide open mind, that she was particularly pleased with him.

“’Morning, professor,” Ron said respectfully.

“Good morning! Are you in the middle of one of your...” McGonagall spoke in a hushed voice, “exercises?”

Ron leaned over a little, wondering who she was whispering for. “Er, yes. I mean I think so.”

“Excellent!” she cried, clapping her hands. “Do ye mind if I sit in with you?”

Ron shook his head, knowing he had no choice anyway. “Of course not.”

“Ron!” Brian called, opening the door. “We’re ready for you. Oh! Hello, professor!”

Ron took one last curious look at the bird which seemed suddenly to consciously notice him, tilting it’s little head.

“I’ll... er, be right back,” he found himself muttering at the bird.

Ron followed Brian and McGonagall back into the room and Brian led him over to the other four, all standing in a straight line. McGonagall sat in a seat nearby, looking as if she were having the time of her life.

“Now, Ron,” Brian said. “I want you to look each person in the eye and just tell me what the word on their card is.”

Ron nodded and stepped over to Moira, who smiled at him cheekily.

I’m thinking of the word “sunshine.” Can you hear that? I bet you can! Sunshine and sunshine and sunshine...

“Sunshine,” Ron said clearly.

Moira squealed and held up her card which read “sunshine” in bold black lettering. Brian wrote something down and Ron stepped over to Krell.

I’m thinking of the word “broomstick.” I’m definitely not thinking about Moira dumping me and how I’m going to die alone and wretched when it’s all over. I’m definitely thinking of the word “broomstick.” Stupid witch.

“Um, broomstick,” Ron said, a little embarrassed. Krell held up his card, glancing over at Moira as he did so.

“Very good!” Brian said.

Before moving on, Ron leaned over to Krell and softly said, “Good luck with that, man.”

Krell nodded grimly and Ron went on to Gaidia.

Sailboats, sailboats... I’ve never been sailing myself. Have you? Certainly wouldn’t go on one of those horrid muggle sailboats. Magic only, I think. But sailboats, sailboats none the less.

“Sailboats,” Ron said easily. “And, no I haven’t been,” he said to Gaidia, “I mean, if you were really asking.”

Gaidia just held up the correct card and nodded and smiled and Ron moved on to Nicolae.

SUGAR PLUMS! SUGAR PLUMS! SUGAR PLUMS! SUGAR PLUMS!

“SUGAR PLUMS!” Ron shouted, immediately coloring. “Er, sorry.”

Nicolae showed his card which, of course, read “sugar plums” and grinned. From her seat in the second row, McGonagall applauded loudly.

“Right!” said Brian. “Excellent! Why don’t we move on to something a bit more difficult?”

Nearly an hour later, when his training session time was almost up, Ron sat, his chin leaning on his hand. McGonagall had lingered a while and then left, looking quite proud. Brian had been taking copious notes during each exercise. The interns seemed nervous as Brian sat muttering to himself and scribbling on his parchments. Brian sat down across from Ron and showed him a scroll showing a line graph portraying three lines, all quivering slightly within the graph at various levels.

“Um, this,” Brian said, pointing to the graph with his wand, “is your T.Q. This graph measures your current level of skill, your potential for advancement and your connection to telepathic forces, which will be explained later. The levels are then formulated and well, the resulting number is your Telepathic Quotient. And... and obviously, the higher the number the more powerful a telepath your are. Muggles have a system similar to this to measure intelligence, an I.Q. Now, I’ve gone through extensive training just to learn how to create and score a T.Q. and... and I have formulated and reformulated your levels seven times just to make sure but...”

“What is it?” Ron asked breathlessly.

“Your T.Q.... scored a 163,” Brian whispered.

The assistants gasped and Ron just blinked. They leaned in as if inspecting Ron for outward signs of his telepathy.

“Woooow,” Gaidia said, sounding like a child at the circus.

“Er, is a... is a 163 good?” Ron asked.

“The most powerful telepath who ever lived was Chekov Biuerskefsky. He died over three hundred years ago,” Brian said slowly. “He had a T.Q. of 154.”

**********************************************************

“Hello?” Draco hollered into the empty classroom. “Must have the wrong room...”

“On the contrary!” said a squeaky little voice.

Draco looked around and frowned, still not seeing the voice’s origin. A chair behind Vector’s sizable desk moved and atop it climbed a tiny little old man with wildly curly dark red hair.

“Oh!” Draco said in surprise. “Are you...?”

The little man stood on top of the chair and stuck out his tiny hand for Draco to shake, which he did, using only three fingers.

“My name is Gordelately Bruper. You can call me Gordi. And you,” Gordi said, putting on a pair of spectacles, “are Draco Malfoy, I presume?”

“Yes,” Draco said, nodding.

“Yes,” said Gordi. “I hardly needed to guess. I’ve seen your picture in the papers... But all of that is another story.”

Draco grimaced and rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you don’t like talking about what happened that night on Grier’s Mountain,” Gordi said.

Draco was starting to get angry. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”

“Ah,” Gordi continued easily. “So tell me what happened.”

“Well, there was this girl named Lauren-” Draco started to say.

“STOP!” Gordi shouted.

Draco blinked and Gordi just stared at him a moment until a funny sensation, like a bit of a tickle in his brain knocked him to attention and he felt like he’d woken up from a daydream.

“Bugger,” he muttered to himself.

“You have just been persuaded,” Gordi announced. “How did it feel?”

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Draco said. “But I felt sort of... dazed and then my mouth started saying the words without my brain knowing about it.”

“Exactly,” Gordi said. “You must understand the power you wield and how it feels to be under it before you start using it. It is a dangerous thing.”

Gordi stopped and eyed Draco carefully over the rim of his spectacles.

“It is important for you to understand,” Gordi said, “the consequences of your power. You must never use it to make mischief.”

“Of course not. After all, I’m a Gryffindor,” Draco said, doing his best impression of an innocent smile and trying to sound convincing. “I’m an angel.”

**********************************************************

Harry was doing seeker’s drills on the Quidditch field, killing time until Draco returned from his persuader’s training. He supposed it would’ve made more sense for him to sleep in a little and join Draco when he was ready, but he figured he could use the bit of extra practice. He was doing yet another feint, and resisting the urge to try a free fall when he spotted someone who looked quite familiar sitting in the bleachers. Harry pulled up and flew nearer and he could hardly believe his eyes as he came in for a landing next to a certain disheveled wizard who was applauding him and smiling.

“Lupin!” Harry gasped.

“You’re already good enough to play for Chudley,” Lupin said by way of greeting.

Harry sat down next to his friend and former professor and took in the sight of him. He certainly looked better then the last time Harry had seen him. Apparently Auror Camp or wherever it was he was staying was agreeing with him. He also noticed that Lupin wore a small glass vial on a chain around his neck.

“How’ve you been?” Harry asked. “What are you doing here? How’s Sirius? Do you know about Malfoy? Are you teaching here again?”

Lupin chuckled and held up his hands. “One question at a time,” he protested.

Harry took a deep breath and sat back and Lupin cleared his throat.

“First of all,” he said. “It’s great to see you.”

“You too,” Harry agreed.

“Sirius is doing very well,” Lupin said, and noticed Harry’s shoulders relax. “There have been a few... scuffles lately. Partly related to that Grier’s Mountain business. I’m doing well myself. I feel better then I have before. And I do know about Draco, that’s why I’m here. I’ll be training you.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “But... oh, what about your...”

Lupin smiled slightly and held up the vial hanging around his neck. Looking closer, Harry saw that there was a tiny silver moon painted on it.

“An improved concoction of Wolfsbane,” Lupin said. “Created by the ingenious Miss Virginia Weasley. Dumbledore asked her personally to try her hand at it a couple of weeks ago and Miss Weasley was able to strengthen the concentration. Now all I have to do is take a tiny little sip once a week. She even made me this necklace so I won’t lose it.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” Harry said, wondering at his girlfriend’s very sanity.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Lupin admitted. “I was going to come for a visit but Dumbledore told me over the fire last night about you and Draco and your new... abilities. He seems to think I’m the best man to show you how to utilize them.”

“This is great!” Harry gushed. “I can’t wait to see Ron and ‘Mione’s faces! It’ll be just like third year! Only without the evil rat... and the death omens and thinking Sirius was evil... and also Draco’s a good guy this time. Well... relatively anyway.”

Lupin just laughed at his babbling and looked down to see the Malfoy in question approaching the quidditch pitch.

“Ah!” he said. “Here comes our relatively good guy now!”

Draco trudged over through the lush and dewy wet grass toward the pitch, burdened with a load of several massive tomes. Persuading had seemed like such a simple thing when Dumbledore had explained it. But Bruper insisted there was much to learn. Draco set his books on a bench at the edge of the field and looked to see Harry and a certain werewolf appear from under the bleachers.

Oh, crap.

Draco’s mind raced. The last time he’d seen Lupin, Lucius’ blood was still wet on his Hogwarts cloak. Not to mention that he’d gone flying into the night as Lupin called after him. Then there was the matter of his relationship to Lupin during third year. He hadn’t exactly tried to endear himself to the man. Yet there he was, striding forward with a kind smile on his face and holding out his hand.

“Draco,” Lupin said. “It’s very good to see you.”

Draco glanced from Lupin to Harry and found himself inexplicably looking to Potter for help.

“I... hello,” Draco stuttered. “Why’re you... I didn’t know you were here.”

Other then Draco’s famously rude behavior to Lupin in the past, Harry couldn’t account for his nervousness now and he frowned until the memory of what he’d seen in the pensieves hit him. Harry licked his lips and tried to sound casual.

”Lupin’s going to be our trainer, Malfoy. But don’t worry...” he said slowly, “no boggarts this time.”

Draco relaxed but was inwardly almost taken aback by Harry’s kindness in diffusing the awkward moment so easily.

Great, Draco thought, now I owe him one.

Draco cleared his throat and shook Lupin’s hand.

“I can’t say how glad I am to see you looking so well, Draco,” Lupin said seriously. “The wizarding world owes you an enormous debt of gratitude.”

Harry wasn’t sure if Draco looked more or less nervous then before. The ex-Slytherin just nodded and scratched the hand with his scar.

“Um, thanks,” Draco mumbled.

“Hey, what’re all those books?” Harry asked, pointing to the bench and once again breaking the tension.

“Oh,” said Draco, “Bruper, the persuader. He’s making me read The Collected Memoirs of Nickolas Yornbyrne.”

“Odd birds too?” Lupin kidded.

“Lord, I hope not,” Draco said.

“Well,” said Lupin, “enough of this chit chat. From what I understand, you two have purple lights shooting out of your respective flesh wounds?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?” Draco said smoothly, though his calm tone belied the excitement he felt over learning to use this new gift.

“Alright,” Lupin said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Harry and Draco spent the next half an hour practicing their power to simply summon the mysterious force and then they worked on hitting objects with it as Lupin wrote notes on a parchment. The rush that the power caused had the two boys wired up and they were shouting and bouncing around like children.

Lupin stroked his chin and started to say, “What I’d like to-”

“Lupin! Blimey!” Harry shouted. “Did you see that one?! That was brilliant! We shot that big rock right through the quaffle goal!”

Draco rubbed his hands together, his eyes wide. “Let’s do it again!”

“Yeah!” Harry yipped in agreement.

“Boys!” Lupin called. “Hold on! I’ve got another idea. I think you’ll find it to your liking.”

Ten minutes later, the three stood off from the pitch in the biggest expanse of grass on Hogwarts grounds. In the middle of the field was a large block of wood that Lupin had conjured for their purposes. Lupin had told Draco and Harry to aim at the block of wood and focus not on pushing or pulling but on the energy itself. Their assignment was to blow the block of wood up.

Harry and Draco did not object to this idea.

The two stood far away but focused on the wood, concentrating and trying to use the advice that Lupin imparted. Harry brushed his sweaty hair back off his scar and readied himself. Moments later he felt the now familiar surge come rushing up through his very blood and he focused on a tether of energy with in it, trusting Draco to do the same. The purple beams of light shot forward toward the wood until Harry accidentally jerked his head and the light veered off and hit a tree near the lake.

“Oh dear,” Lupin said good-naturedly. “Now you’ve set Herbert afire.”

Draco crossed his arms and smirked at Harry who just shrugged.

“So I missed,” he said simply.

Lupin pointed his wand at “Herbert” and said, “Extinguio.”

The fire died out and Lupin asked them to try it again. Harry and Draco stared hard at the block of wood, Draco’s outstretched palm nearly shaking with the effort. The beams of light shot out and and the wood blew apart in a very small explosion.

WAM!

“Wicked!” Draco blurted.

Lupin nodded and then squinted and then plopped down on the grass, scribbling all over his parchments. Draco and Harry were quite hyper and when Lupin wasn’t watching, they took out their wands and started hexing each other (all in good fun, of course). Finally, Lupin glanced up to see Draco’s arms flailing uncontrollably and Harry tap-dancing on the grass (as much as you can tap on grass).

“Boys!” Lupin hollered. “Please?”

“Finite incantatum,” they said simultaneously, pointing their wands at each other.

“I’ve got one!” Draco shouted, feeling a little drunk. He whipped around and aimed his open palm at Harry’s forehead.

“Draco, wait-”

WAM!

They two boys were thrown apart in a burst of purple light and ended up on opposite sides of the large grass field, as Lupin sat quietly mulling over his notes. Harry stood and dusted himself off and grumbled at the grass stains on his robes and the scrape on his elbow. Draco could hardly stand for laughter, even though he’d scraped his cheek and had dirt on his face.

“I’ve got to learn to control that,” Harry grumbled.

“That was priceless, Potter,” Draco said, still guffawing. “The look on your face!”

“Rictusempra!”

Draco fell back to his knees and rolled onto his back, holding his stomach and laughing.

“Aha!” Lupin said suddenly. “This could be very interesting! Um, Harry...?”

“Finite incantatum, ” Harry sighed, rather reluctantly.

Draco got to his feet and shot Harry a look who shot him a look back. Lupin stood, holding his parchments and approached the two boys.

“I want you try something else,” Lupin said. “Pick a spot in the air about twenty feet above the ground and shoot for it. Create a strong pulling force.”

“Then what?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Lupin admitted.

Fortunately, Draco and Harry were up for anything. So they picked a point in the sky to focus on. The purple beams blasted and seemed to anchor on to an arbitrary point in the air. Just as quickly as the beams appeared, Draco and Harry were yanked into the air, as if hanging on to two giant bungie cords.

“WHOAH!” Harry shouted.

The boys shot up exactly twenty feet to the beam’s target and then the lightening bolts disappeared and gravity started to pull them back to the ground.

“Cushio!” Lupin crowed, pointing at the ground under the two boys.

A moment later Draco and Harry hit the ground only to find that it had become as soft as a featherbed.

“Let’s do it again!” Harry pleaded.

“Yeah!”

**********************************************************

“Mom-”

“I just can’t believe it!” Mrs. Weasley was crying, wiping tears from her eyes. “My baby Ronnie a powerful telepath! And then Ginny, my potions genius... Oh!” Mrs. Weasley gripped her red-faced youngest son in another in a series of bear hugs, much to his great embarrassment and protest.

“Mom! Mmph!” He wheezed, his air supply interrupted.

“Oh, Professor McGonagall,” his mother said, finally becoming distracted by someone else. “I can’t believe it! Can you believe it?!”

Ron finally managed to break away from his mother only to see his dear brothers Fred and George smirking delightedly and crossing their arms.

“Baby Ronnie!” Fred shouted. “You’re a superstar!”

“Hey, guys,” Ron said weakly. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

George stepped up and cupped Ron face in his hands as if he were an elderly auntie.

“We can’t work at a time like this!” George declared. “Not when our little tiny itsy bitsy baby brother turns out to be the MOST POWERFUL WIZARD EVER TO WALK THE EARTH!”

Ron grimaced and hissed, “Shut up, prat!”

Fred came up next to George and pinched Ron’s cheeks and Ron attempted to push them away. The twins were both as light hearted as ever but they were starting to take their futures more seriously. Both were working two jobs each in Diagon Alley and still living at home, saving up enough galleons to start their own joke shop. Suddenly Fred gripped his head and made a terrible face.

“Oh! My head!” Fred cried dramatically. “He’s reading my mind! I can feel it!” Fred fell to the floor and writhed around at the feet of amused onlookers. “Oh, the power! Oh, the omniscient amazing endless power of the great Ronald!” Fred crawled over to Ron’s feet and stroked his shoes tenderly. “Oh, master! May I kiss your feet, sir?!”

Ron kicked Fred’s hand and snorted. “Cut it out, git!”

Ron’s session was supposed to be over by ten but Brian was so awestruck by Ron’s record breaking T.Q. that he insisted on summoning Dumbledore downstairs. And then the head of T & K himself flooed over to personally inspect the Ron’s score and verified it on the spot. Dumbledore immediately contacted Ron’s mother with the amazing news and she in turn flooed right over, considering it a moment of great importance in her little Ronnie’s life... and in the history of the wizarding world. Dumbledore was happily making his way to the classroom when he ran into, or rather through Nearly Headless Nick who asked where Dumbledore was going in such a hurry.

“I have just been informed that our Mr. Ronald Weasley has a Telepathic Quotient of 163!” Dumbledore effused.

“Marvelous!” Nick returned, and immediately spirited away to tell every professor he could find. Soon professors were rushing down the corridors towards Flitwich’s classroom, excitedly relating the wonderful news. The room filled up soon enough with everyone from Vector to Trelawney to Hooch, clapping him on the back and congratulating him on the promise of an exceptional future in magic. Ron had never blushed so much in his whole life. Dumbledore ordered up tea and biscuits from the house elves and a full reception was in swing. Even Snape was present, though he sat in a corner with Brian’s notes, looking for mistakes in his scoring of the T.Q.

Snape could later be heard grumbling his way out of the impromptu party saying, “At least we now have definite proof that telepathic skills have nothing to do with intelligence!”

Fred and George, after suitably humiliating Ron and slipping the formula from Canary Creams into Snape’s drink when they heard his remarks, made their exits. Ron himself began edging towards the door loaded down with The Complete Works of Chekov Biuerskefsky and a copy of Ethics of Telepathy, feeling utterly overwhelmed and craving breathable air when he felt another clap on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he mumbled automatically. “Can’t believe it, who knew, I’ll be sure to use it wisely.”

He looked up to see Brian peaking over the pile of books and grinning from ear to ear, butter beer on his breath.

“Young Weasley!” he cried. “Just talked over the fire with Telepathy Today! They’re dying to get an interview with you sometime soon!”

“Wh-what?” Ron stuttered. “The magazine?” Ron was vaguely familiar with the publication, he’d seen it out of the corner of his eye on newsstands in Diagon Alley. In the back of his mind he remembered that he’d read an interview in Telepathy Today once in an issue all about telepathic quidditch players.

“They’d love to meet you, Ron!” Brian said, clearly enthused.

“Wow,” Ron breathed. “It’s all so fast...”

Brian slapped him on the back and nodded. “You think about it. No need to rush! After all, you have enough on your mind now without extra pressure. But I just can’t say what a thrill it is to be involved in your training. One. Sixty. Three,” Brian said, emphasizing each number. “A miracle.”

Ron swallowed and heard the soothing voice of Dumbledore behind him.

“Mr.Ashes!” Dumbledore said. “What a wonderful day this is! Why don’t we let young Ronald here to his day off. I’m sure he has much to think about.”

Ron sighed with relief and Brian merely agreed (effusively) with Dumbledore and went to share his continual excitement with McGonagall. Dumbledore peaked over Ron’s books with twinkling eyes.

“I’m under the impression you need a bit of air, Mr. Weasley?” Dumbledore asked, ushering him to the door.

“Yes,” Ron said. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

“You’re welcome, Ron, “ Dumbledore said kindly. “Your sister slipped out already. I believe your friends are cavorting outside somewhere.”

Ron thanked him again and exited out to the corridor. On automatic pilot, he ran his books back to his dorm and was stopped twice on his way there by a congratulatory Flitwich and a gushing Trelawney. On his way from Gryffindor Tower to the grounds outside he was even stopped by the Bloody Baron who was claiming to have known Biuerskefsky. By the time he was done talking politely to the ghost, passing a giant and very angry looking canary, Ron was trotting quickly to the main entrance. Ron pushed the front doors open and ran outside, stopping at the head of the stairs when the cool late autumn air hit his face.

Life had changed.

Being a telepath was one thing. But finding out you had the potential to be the most powerful telepath who ever lived was quite another. Ron was having trouble processing it all. He looked away to the lake where he could see four familiar Gryffindors. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bird flying over their heads and immediately realized it was the same bird he’d seen in the window. Ron watched it idly and took a deep breath. Brian had pointed out that telepaths often made powerful aurors. This opened up a whole new world. The bird soared low over Harry and the others and landed on a branch near Draco.

Draco and Hermione.

That was another thing. Ron sat down on the steps to think. He had never considered himself officially in love with ole ‘Mione. And yet... there had been feelings. Warm squishy embarrassing feelings that Ron had kept well hid. He’d always fantasized about telling her in some grand romantic way or even better, for her to suddenly reveal that she had always been madly in love with him. And then he had settled on the idea that if he just had one thing that made him special, worthy of Hermione, then he would tell her.

Something like for instance being telepathic.

And now just when he had something to use to prove himself, here came Draco.

Typical.

Ron sighed wistfully and glanced up to see the bird flying right towards him. It landed on the steps next to him and Ron raised his eyebrows.

“Hello,” he said, feeling ridiculous. The bird sort of hopped up and down in reply. Ron reached into the pocket of his cloak and took out the remains of a blueberry muffin. He set the treat down on the steps. The bird ate it happily and then gazed calmly at Ron.

“My friend Hermione had a dream about you,” Ron explained to the bird. The bird looked down. “Are you an animagus?” Ron asked. It blinked.

“If you’re an animagus,” Ron said slowly, “then chirp at me.”

The bird responded by flying away and Ron sighed.

“Is that a no?” Ron shouted after it.

“Ron!” Harry called, trotting up the steps. “Why didn’t you come find us?”

“Did you see the bird?” Ron asked, standing up and needlessly dusting himself off. “I think it’s the one from ‘Mione’s dream.”

“What bird?” Harry said quickly. “We’ve got to show you something! Draco and I! It’s amazing!”

Ron followed Harry to the lake where Ginny, Hermione and Draco were sitting on the grass relaxing. Ron’s eyes flitted to Hermione who was leaning back on her hands, sitting next to Draco. They weren’t touching, but they were sitting close enough for it to be fairly obvious, at least to him. Ron stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to ignore his urge to sulk. It was tempting to read their minds and see exactly what they thought of each other, but Ron’s first lesson (in between tests) had been that it was considered bad form to read a person’s mind unless you had their permission or had just cause. Ron didn’t suppose a schoolboy crush was considered just cause. Of course, one needed the ability to control input and Brian had gone through a short tutorial on how to block out unwanted thoughts. So far, Ron was still getting a lot of background noise from minds he didn’t recognize but he found he was able to turn off familiar voices fairly easily.

“How was your training?” Harry asked.

Ron raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t sort of... hear about it?”

Harry just looked confused. “Hear about it? No. Oh! Do you know about Lupin! I thought you might’ve heard me thinking about him! Lupin’s back!”

Ron forgot all about his telepathy and grinned. “Lupin! You’re kidding! Is he teaching DADA? Are we rid of Gerkin?”

“No, unfortunately, “ Harry explained as they came up to others and sat down on the grass. “He’s training us though.”

“Yeh,” Draco said. “Potter and I learned a few tricks.”

“I wanted to wait til you got here to show everybody,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Draco drawled, “Must wait for Weasley. Wouldn’t want to break up the greatest love story never told.”

Hermione elbowed Draco who shrugged and grumbled, “What?”

“I told you!” she hissed into his ear.

“What took you so long, Ron?” Ginny asked. “I thought your session was only an hour.”

Ron scratched his head and squinted. “So you didn’t see mom?”

“Mom is here?” Ginny shrieked.

“She was,” Ron said.

“Ron,” Ginny yipped, worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“What happened?” Hermione demanded at the same time.

“Nothing bad,” Ron assured them. “It’s just... well... no one told you?”

“I’ve been in the greenhouses all morning,” Ginny explained.

“Spit it out, Weasley,” Draco sighed.

“It’s nothing,” Ron said. “Nothing, really. Just that... well, they tested me for my Telepathic Quotient.”

“You’re T.Q.!” Hermione cried. “What is it,” she asked. “Is it over 90? That’s above average. I shouldn’t put out a number but if it’s not, don’t worry. Anything over 50 is respectable,” she rambled. “And even if it’s not over 50 it’s more then-”

“It’s 163,” he said quietly.

Ron flinched as his three friends (and Draco) gaped at him silently.

“You’ve got a T.Q. of 163?” Draco, who knew enough to know that 163 was a miracle, asked.

“Um, yeah,” Ron mumbled. “I mean they checked it a few times and then whatsisname, the minister of Telepathy and Kinesis at the ministry checked it so... well, yeah.”

“Ron, you’ll be famous!” Hermione squealed. “That’s the highest T.Q. ever!”

“Yeah, well yeah,” Ron said. laughing a little.

Draco regarded the crimson faced Weasley. Hermione had just given him a quiet plea, hoping that he’d get to know Harry and anybody with the last name of Weasley enough to at least get along with them and leave the past behind. So Draco, for Hermione’s sake and Hermione’s sake only, drudged up all the goodwill for Weasley he could find.

“Who knew?” Draco said simply, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Harry, Ginny and Hermione stared at Draco who made a face and stared at the ground. Hermione was inwardly very pleased but decided to spare Draco the awkwardness and turned to Harry, explaining to him what a T.Q. was. Ron rose an eyebrow and looked at Draco who was smirking in typical Draco fashion. Ron took the message, considering it permission and read his thoughts.

That’s the closest thing to a compliment you’re getting from me, Weasel.

Ron shrugged and said aloud and just as dryly, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Draco felt a tug on his arm and turned to see Hermione who was grinning from ear to ear. She pulled him over behind a bunch of tall bushes as Harry and Ginny congratulated Ron.

“Hey,” Hermione said softly, making sure the other couldn’t see them. “You were almost nice to Ron!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I know,” he sighed. “Next you’ll have me escorting elderly witches across roads and saving baby birds from their nests.”

Hermione laughed and Draco watched, adoring her in his mind, as she covered her mouth and scrunched up her nose. He reached up and set a stray curl behind her ear.

“And what exactly is so funny?” He asked.

She giggled and said, “Only that you equate not being insulting to being a saint.”

Draco fixed her with his seductive smoky gray eyes and continued to fidget with her hair.

“Well, you see, Hermione,” he whispered. “The Malfoys never had fine lines. You’re either a rogue or you aren’t.”

Hermione felt a delectable warmth spreading through her face as Draco flirted and touched her, brushing his knuckles along her ear.

“And are you a rogue?” She asked with a quirk of her brow.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in so that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

She met his eyes and smirked. “Well, I like nice men,” she declared in a husky voice.

“I’m nice men,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” she said, almost feeling the kiss already. “You’re-”

He interrupted her with his lips and Hermione felt her knees go to jelly again. But Draco held her up, pulling her closer and nearly lifting her off the ground with his arms around her waist. Draco marveled at Hermione’s kisses. Her lips were just slightly chapped and swollen and he knew he was only making it worse. She tasted like chocolate and she seemed to be forcing a long slow agonizing kiss that was starting to bring him to his knees. In a mind-blowing way, it felt so good that it sort of hurt.

“Alright,” Draco breathed hotly between kisses. “I am a rogue.”

I’ll never get enough of her... he thought desperately.

Draco decided to show his appreciation by trying something new. He pulled away, hearing Hermione give a tiny little moan of displeasure. But when he leaned over and put his tongue just where her earlobe met her neck, Hermione let out an actual shriek.

Draco couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction. “Hermione!” He cried, chuckling.

Hermione was giggling and flapping about. “I couldn’t help it!” she hissed. “No one’s ever done that before! It tickled!”

“That Krum guy never tried it on you?” Draco asked, still very much amused.

“Please,” Hermione quipped.

“Draco! Hermione?” Harry’s voice called from over the bushes.

Draco and Hermione all but leapt apart automatically just as Harry appeared form around the corner.

“And you really must focus on-on-on- the uh the sempra tables or you’ll never pass arithmancy!” Hermione abruptly stuttered.

Harry suppressed the urge to laugh. Who did they think they were kidding?

“Draco!” Harry barked. “Let’s show em’ the... thing.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “The thing,” he mumbled. “Right. The thing.” He turned to Hermione and grinned. “There’s a thing.”

“There always is,” Hermione said seriously.

Hermione strode back to Ginny and Ron and sat down on the grass. Harry and Draco were grumbling at each other surveying the green field.

Ginny nudged Hermione and fixed her with a knowing smile. “I want details later,” she said.

“About what?” Hermione said, trying to sound innocent.

Ginny just gave her a look and Hermione bit her lip, suppressing a smile.

Draco pointed to a spot farther away from the castle and Harry nodded.

“Just stay right there and watch!” Harry shouted. “We’re going to show you something!”

Ginny, Hermione and Ron watched Draco and Harry standing far down on the other end of the field. Suddenly Harry shouted, “Alright, go!”

Harry and Draco started running and then Draco stuck out his palm, aiming his scar toward the sky. Bolts of purple lightening shot out of Harry’s head and Draco’s hand, shooting high over and far ahead of them. The two boys were yanked into the air and arms flailing seemed to travel in the exact path of the two bolts until they reached the point at which they met. There they hovered for just a second before they started falling to the ground. But as the ground came up to reach them, Draco put his hand out again and two more bolts appeared and this time anchored far ahead of them in the ground so that instead of coming straight down, Harry and Draco flew in the path of the bolts again and were able to come to a half-funning half-falling landing and rolled to a stop on the grass where their combined beams had made a small hole in the ground.

Ron jumped to his feet and screamed, “THAT IS THE COOLEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN!”

“I call it bolt bounding!” Harry shouted.

Hermione, who had immediately recognized this as the flying that Harry and Draco had done in her dream, could only be awestruck and Ginny was jumping up and down and clapping her hands. Draco stood up with a groan but looked positively energized. He trotted back over to Hermione, dusting the grass off his jeans and tugging on his tight green t-shirt.

“You can fly,” Hermione said, smiling. “Just like in my dream.”

“I guess it could come in useful for jumping on top of roofs,” Draco said.

“I knew you could fly,” Hermione said softly. Draco looked at her, seeing the sincere look in her eye and felt his heart throb distantly.

“And we can blow stuff up!” Harry said with pride.

“Hey, remember that bird you dreamt about, Mione?” Ron said as Draco and Hermione stepped apart so as not to arouse suspicion (or so they thought). “Wasn’t it black?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “With white tail feathers.”

“Like that one?” Draco said, pointing to the bird in question. He had followed Ron’s gaze to a tree branch where the bird sat staring at all of them very curiously. The bird proceeded to fly from the branch and perched, to everyone’s surprise, on Draco’s shoulder. Draco frowned and shifted his eyes.

“Um...” he said stupidly.

Ron felt inexplicably just a bit jealous and annoyed.

Draco again.

First Hermione and now the bird?!

He wanted to say that this was hardly fair, that Hermione had dreamt that the bird landed on his shoulder so what did this mean?? Draco didn’t seem to know either.

“Wasn’t there something in Divination class about black birds?” Draco said rhetorically.

“Sure,” said Harry. “Welcome to the wonderful world of death omens.”

“It’s not a death omen!” Hermione protested.

The bird flew away from Draco and landed on Ron’s shoulder to his great delight.

“How strange,” Hermione said.

“I suppose if I’m going to die, Weasley, I mind as well take you with me,” Draco said.

Ron stuck his hands in his pockets and the bird didn’t move.

“I think it’s an animagus,” Ron said. “But it won’t tell me.”

“Um, Ron,” said Ginny. “You’re talking to birds now?”

“You think it’s wise to keep strange pets?” Harry pointed out. “Your last animagus turned out to be a death eater.”

Draco looked alarmed. “What?”

“Pettigrew,” Hermione explained.

“You kept Pettigrew as a pet?” Draco yipped.

“You didn’t know about all that?” Hermione asked.

“Apparently not,” he answered.

“It’s not evil,” Ron said, trying to convince Harry. “Sirius turned out alright and he’s an animagus!”

“Sirius Black?” Draco asked incredulously.

Hermione laughed. “I’ll catch you up,” she said lightly.

Ron smiled at the bird and then it flew away.

“I’m starving,” Harry announced.

“Let’s go see if the elves’ll feed us,” Ginny suggested.

The five of them made their way back to the castle, babbling about their training and and bolt bounding versus free falling and the return of Lupin. They were making their through a corridor when from around a corner came McGonagall at a quick pace, holding a scroll and looking typically anxious.

“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall called.

Draco flinched and cleared his throat. “What is it?” he asked.

McGonagall met them in the middle of the hall and fixed Draco with a worried face, handing him the scroll.

“Headmaster Dumbledore gave me this letter to pass on to you. It is of the utmost urgency. It is from your mother.”

Draco took the scroll and frowned, mumbling his thanks and McGonagall left them. Draco and the others kept walking towards the Great Hall as Draco unfurled the scroll. Hermione watched as he held the scroll and began to read. She watched his eyes flitting back and forth until she saw his mouth drop open and he stopped short in the middle of the corridor. Draco looked completely shocked, shaking his head in confusion.

“Draco?” Hermione said needlessly.

Draco just stuffed the letter into Hermione’s hands, and took off at a run down the corridor in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. The others stood by as Hermione started to follow and then stopped, deciding she should know what he was upset about first. She unrolled the scroll and skimmed it quickly.

“Oh my God,” Hermione breathed.

“Mione,” Harry said urgently, “what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Draco has a sister.”