To Like a Ferret

Chapter Three

To Like a Ferret, You Must Know How to Grab His Attention

The students' tongues hadn't stopped wagging ever since Draco Malfoy's acceptance of Harry Potter's latest prank. In their opinion, Draco had turned the table right back on the Boy Who Lived Again and Again with his very public acceptance speech. It was a good thing that the Holidays were coming up. They simply had to watch the fascinating show.

With the expected show-down coming , Cohorts Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had to work around the clock to ensure that every latest tidbit was passed on to their classmates. They assigned posts to their appointed members for this most noble of tasks. It was exhausting work, but they had to do it. Besides, it was quite enjoyable.

~~~~~

Pansy looked up from the latest issue of Witch Weekly. The knock on her door indicated that the person on the other side was troubled and unsure, which made her frown. Because she did not know any Slytherin who acted like that.

Hufflepoufs must be in the area, must alarm everyone, she thought abstractedly.

Not that she was scared of a Hufflepouf.

Nobody was.

It was just that their twittering and giggling and non-existence of social lives could very well be contagious.

And that was simply too horrid to comprehend.

With this in mind, Pansy readied her wand, a curse at the tip of her tongue. She was expecting to see some twit in yellow when she opened the door.

It came as quite a shock to her when the sneering face of Draco Malfoy came into view.

His lips were white in a firm line and his tense shoulders weren't obvious to an outsider, but he was facing Pansy and she knew him the most.

He looked extremely disconcerted.

She raised her eyebrow enquiringly at him.

He grabbed her wrist and tugged her promptly outside to a nearby empty classroom.

"Draco! What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded once the door closed. She rubbed her wrist from where his grasp had been a bit tight.

"I do not appreciate being dragged away roughly Draco. Unless you're here to ravish me, that is."

She winked at the blonde. She waited all of three seconds before...

"Well, are you?" she asked, glaring.

"Shut up Pansy," Draco snapped. He started pacing the room agitatedly.

"What is it then?" she insisted. When he did not answer and just seemed resolute to wear out the soles of his shoes, she sighed loudly.

"Look, I was actually reading something important, so if you did this just to irritate me, mission accomplished. Now if you have nothing to say-"

"Hmm, A-line cut robes wouldn't look flattering at all Pansy," he said absently.

"You utter prat! How many times have I told you to *never* mention, or give any negative reference to, my hips!" she hissed.

She glowered up at him and Draco should have been worried right about now had he not been preoccupied with an inner dilemma.

"I can't go through with this," he said quietly as he stopped pacing.

What, you can't go through with A-line cut robes? she thought absurdly.

Then...

Oh.

"Why not?!" she asked calmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning back on the wall, all poise indicating she was expecting an entertainment of sorts to hold her attention for at least the next half hour.

Bloody hell, this is better than my soaps, she mused as she watched a most fascinating discourse unfold before her. She had to hand it to Draco, when it came to dramatics, he never failed to entertain her. He really was The King, Blaise never stood a chance.

"Pansy, will you think! Scarhead? I won't last ten minutes without breaking his awful face or hexing him into the beyond! It won't work I tell you. And the House points! Think of the House points we'll lose when Dumbledore hears his Golden Prat was harmed by me. And he will surely hear about it, other students will be at the trip, watching our every move you know. I shouldn't have agreed to this-" Draco ranted, complete with arm-flailing and obscene gestures. He looked utterly furious and dismayed at the same time.

Pansy observed Draco throughout his outburst. She discerned he must be in pieces right now. Because he was one of the proudest people she knew. His pride acknowledges no bounds, and for him to tell Pansy that he was backing down, well...

He must be in utter chaos.

"And *me*! Bloody hell, I would have to be with him for the whole sodding trip! For at least five hours I would be subjected to his atrocious company. Ugh, I will be deranged by the end of the day and you would have to cart me off to St. Mungo's. Cut down at the prime of life because of That Bloody Dork They Call Hero. The irony is simply too tragic, it would kill Dumbledork. Oh wait, that's a good thing. But still! Imagine a day with Harry Pockhead, that unbelievably boring bastard! And I would have to be polite to the tosser! Unimaginable really, I cannot even bear to think it. I wager he still drinks Butterbeer. No imagination, don't you agree? He's sixteen for Circe's sake, he could use the alcohol to forget about that crappy life he leads."

Draco paused, presumably to catch his breath. His cheekbones were crested pink from the effort of his outburst and his clenched fists showed white knuckles.

Pansy just kept looking at him, like he was some sort of a fascinating bug she was trying to understand. When Draco saw her, his body slumped visibly with defeat. His face composed a rejected look and he exhaled loudly. He sat down at a chair and looked up at Pansy with weary eyes.

"I know, I know. Our reputation is at stake. I just thought...you would see my point. I did not think this through," he muttered distractedly.

Pansy unfolded her arms and walked the remaining steps to where Draco sat and kneeled in front of him. She placed her hand on his thigh timidly, and searched his eyes still looking to find something there.

"Draco, you can do this. You've always been better than Potter, at everything. You know that. You're better with pranks, you're brilliant with insults. You'll do great, " she intoned.

Inwardly, Pansy was swimming with fascination. Draco was not acting at all like his usual superior self. Something was terribly the matter. But she wasn't too worried. Draco can handle this.

Years of being friends with Draco armed Pansy with interesting facts about the blonde.

He was fairly easy to understand actually, as he was too transparent with his emotions. Others didn't get him because he could just as easily slide that impassive smirk in place at will too.

She knew he was ridiculously proud.

As did so many others.

So being the nasty, Slytherin friend that she was, she used what she could to push at her friend's already fragile state.

"Pressure getting to you yet?" she whispered challengingly.

She smiled in satisfaction as she saw that feral glint in his eyes. And she knew then, Slytherin would emerge victorious from this.

~~~~~

"M-my wardrobe?" Harry said with a dubious expression as if he had never considered that subject before.

Hermione nodded patiently. This was Harry. Of course he didn't know very much about clothes. He had Bigger, Non-Human Really, Dark Lord and a Throng of Death Eaters Matters to worry about. He was inexperienced in the art of sophistication, and she couldn't imagine him being posh and poncey really. It was just, he had to cooperate, he had to, if this was going to work.

"Yes Harry, your wardrobe. You know, clothes?" she said. Her expression clearly stated that she didn't deem he had anything apposite to wear.

Suitable enough for a day out with That Malicious Bastard at least.

"Oh come on Hermione! You've seen me on normal clothes. They're fine, right? I don't know what all the fuss is about," Harry whined.

"Bring me all the jumpers from your closet then," she commanded. Better face the inevitable. The earlier, the better. Besides, Hermione was expecting catastrophe anyway in the form of Harry's wardrobe. Best to fix it and get it out of the way. At least after this, she can start studying properly for the Holidays.

At Harry's unmoving form, she placed her hands on her hips and sighed "Well?"

"Uhh, right. All my jumpers..." he muttered as he made his way into the boys' dormitory. He trodded slowly up the stairs with his head bowed down then disappeared from view.

Hermione worked in clearing up a corner spot in the Common Room for this particular project. As she went about her task, the other Gryffindors in the room looked at her with interest but said nothing. They were just spectators at that moment, for they were the assigned members, The Task Force, of Cohorts Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

Also, Hermione Granger was a prefect, and she might make them go to their room if she gets irritated. And they had learned the hard way never to invoke Hermione Granger's wrath, as it was worse than a woken dragon's, fire-breathing and monstrous roar incorporated.

An unforgettable incident that involved a bumbling Second Year Gryffindor, a misplaced nasty comment about Hogwarts, A History, and a dormitory door that simply wouldn't unbolt no matter which spell was uttered was still very fresh in everyone's mind.

"Do we really have to do this?" Ron asked at Hermione's elbow. He glanced over at the cleared spot then sat down on it. "I mean, it's just clothes," he added.

"Yes Ron, we do," she said, rolling her eyes.

Ron knew better than to try to argue. He knew he couldn't change Hermione's mind once it was set on something. She simply did not know when to give up. S.P.E.W. was enough testimony of that.

Instead, he set up his chess board. He had an unusual moment of clairvoyance, as he was rather dense, that tonight was going to be abnormally boring. Choosing clothes wasn't really something a boy normally enjoyed. Unless you happened to be Draco Malfoy, and you were incredibly thick and mental and did not act normal at all.

Ron felt pity for Harry's upcoming moment of doom, that time when he would have to choose between periwinkle and teal, and Merlin, I hope he doesn't own any jumper in *that* color!

Harry came down a bit later, arms laden with jumpers. He looked dejected.

Hermione inspected Harry's assortment of clothes. He was extremely impoverished on this department. She clearly had quite a task ahead of her. Hermione frowned in concentration, mind whirring with spells, while she sifted through the pile.

Harry looked on helplessly while Hermione clucked and shook her head at intervals. He did not know any spells from Transfigurations class that could help him out. He began playing chess with Ron to keep himself occupied while Hermione saw disaster in the shape of his lame excuse for a wardrobe.

"Can you do something?" he asked after a while. He was anxious. This whole thing with Malfoy was really nerve-grating.

Made him Very Nervous.

Hermione plucked four jumpers which she thought might have potential for improvement.

"I'm not promising anything spectacular Harry. Besides, Professor McGonagall didn't teach us, and I don't think she ever will as it is rather impractical, to transfigure jumpers so they sprout sequins and beads and the like," she said in a mildly distracted way.

"S-sequins? Beads?" Harry squeaked. He boggled at Hermione, totally stricken.

"Hermione! I'm not putting on anything shiny!" he squeaked again, panicked.

"Oh no, not really Harry. I'm just saying. What I meant was something flashy. Goodness, Malfoy would bolt at the sight of you wearing something so incredibly poncey and not in fashion don't you think? I've seen Malfoy on weekends, his clothes can be quite posh even if he has nowhere to go. I think I really can do something with this," she finished, grabbing at her chosen selection.

"Do we really have to do this?" Harry asked exasperatedly.

"I mean, these are just clothes Hermione. They're not really vital," he continued. He flinched at Hermione's irate expression and knew at once that he had said something erroneous.

"That is the second time I've been asked that in the last three minutes!" she thundered.

She took deep calming breaths but these did not seem to have had any soothing effects.

"Harry Potter, I cannot believe you just said that. I don't think you fully comprehend the situation. Do you know who we are dealing with here? Draco Bloody Malfoy! That's right. The git who can never survive a day without looking at a mirror and insulting us. In that order! The prat who struts around the school as if he owned the place, but does it while looking superb in his outfit anyway. The-"she was distracted from her diatribe when she saw Ron's steaming ears and crimson face.

"What is it Ron? I'm in the middle of an important persuasion here," she asked That Chess-Playing Glutton Who Inexplicably Just Turned Mauve.

Ron's vocalization skills seemed to be malfunctioning at the moment, so he tugged at Hermione's elbows instead.

"Oh honestly Ron! Stop being immature. You know what I just said was true," she snapped.

Ron still looked incredulous, but stopped his tugging and instead, mumbled out words like "superb prat" and "ferret-faced git."

Hermione turned her attention back to Harry.

"Like I was saying-" she started but was cut off by Harry.

"I know what you're saying. Sorry Hermione, I was just a bit nervous. I really appreciate this," he said hastily, and gave her a grin.

Because she was starting to get worked up, and Harry had been her friend for years. Thus, he knew that she simply did not know when to quit.

She simply did not know when to stop talking either. Or babbling.
Whichever.

The spectators were getting restless when it became apparent that they were not going to witness Hermione Granger's extraordinary magical skills with Harry Potter's clothes and were just about to go off and look for something else to do, when the Portrait Door burst open and other members of The Task Force wheezed in with news a-plenty.

~~~~~

At breakfast, Draco Malfoy was baffled.

Simply, but utterly, baffled.

He turned to glower at Pansy but he saw that she was as mystified as he was.

How in tarnation did they find out?
These words kept repeating in Draco's psyche.

He could not find any possible explanation for this monstrosity.

This was supposed to be a good day in a week that had magnificently gone to hell, he thought.

All poise busy flying out in the Quidditch Pitch, Draco Malfoy dropped his head on the empty plate in front of him.

It's not fair. Days should begin with a flashing warning on your bedpost. Mine should have had the words: Blasted day ahead, never leave the bed for fear of sudden social death!, Draco thought sourly.

The day had started normally enough: deafening snores, a relaxing shower, and twelve pounds of Hair Manageability Serum on his hair and Draco was ready to go. He really did not notice anything amiss as he passed his Housemates on the way to breakfast. It was when students from insignificant Houses started whispering and pointing at him did he perceive something was wrong. He was proved correct three seconds later when Parvati Patil, Queen of the Rumour Mill (or QueeRM with a silent 'm,' as the Slytherins fondly called her), stepped in front of him and steered him to a wall. Pansy's snarls faded in the background as Draco hushed her with a raised hand.

"To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, oh lovely QueeRM?" Draco drawled charmingly.

Parvati just stared pointedly at him.

Gryffindors really weren't too bright.

"Cute Malfoy. So your nerve has left you. Wonder what brought that about. Crying shame. We were looking forward to being kept amused."

The pesky QueeRM stated the cryptic message quite clearly.

Draco privately thought this was more for the benefit of the audience they had gathered.

"Good morning to you too. But what in bleeding-" Draco started aloud when Parvati turned her back at him and left for the Great Hall.

Draco exchanged puzzled looks with Blaise and Pansy but just shrugged the oddity off to hunger.

When Draco sat down at breakfast, the exact same scene as yesterday greeted him: the Hufflepoufs' barely-concealed attention; the Ravenclaws' calculative frowns; the Gryffindorks' smug grins and the Slytherins' foaming mouths. Only this time, everyone's attention was focused on him instead of on The Defender of All Evil.

Nothing novel about that either, Draco was extremely popular, but the shifty gazes of his Housemates started a worry in the pit of his stomach.

And what was that blasted QueeRM's obscure message about?

Blasted Gryffindorks! It was bad enough they don't include thinking in their daily schedule, but to include me in their messy lives, well...

Parvati must fancy me then, Draco concluded arrogantly.

The mail arrived and Draco saw his owl clutching a humongous red and gold envelope. A fifteen-pound worry dropped in his stomach at the sight and he groaned inwardly, cursing Harry Flakehead.

The utter, utter nerve of the boy was simply implausible.

With Pansy peering over his shoulder, Draco unfolded the letter hurriedly. He once heard talk about a band-aid and decided the moment suited. After he read the letter, he reckoned he never should have opened the letter at all.

Ever.

For it was the bearer of all things wrong in this world and must be Incendio-d into oblivion immediately.

Malfoy,

Word has it that you're not going to the Hogsmeade trip. I may be at the constant receiving end of your brutal insults and useless attempts to get me and my friends expelled, but I do know that you are the most arrogant bastard person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting.

Your house's reputation is at risk here. What are you going to do about it ferret?

Potter

Draco lifted his head from his plate and had a hurried whispered conversation with Pansy and Blaise. He then straightened his robes on his immaculate body, then plowed to Harry Potter's direction.

Hermione Granger's smile was hidden behind her bushy hair, but Pansy knew it was there. She smirked in turn because the Gryffindorks were starting to play dirty. She was beginning to like them.

No, like was too strong a word. She would not be able to take it if she started respecting the prats.

Perhaps, not too ridiculously focused on causing them the utmost misery every day then. Just every fortnight was still painful enough as the Slytherins were really absolutely vile.

Harry Potter rose from his seat when Draco Malfoy reached him. Every student was expecting something, anything, to happen, because they all saw the obscenely colored envelope for Draco.

"A word Potter, if you please," Draco drawled calmly. The furious glint in his eyes was not lost on Potter however, and the Gryffindolt swallowed audibly. Nevertheless, he stood up and followed Draco out of the great Hall. And as the last of Harry Potter's robes disappeared from view, utter chaos reigned supreme once again.

~~~~~

Draco did not even wait to reach an empty classroom as he shoved Harry on to the wall. The Gryffindor, caught unaware, banged his head quite hard and his vision wobbled for a bit before his instincts reached out to him and he started to fight back. The furious tussle that ensued was continued in an empty classroom where the two proceeded to add a screaming match to their current activity.

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are you bastard?!" Draco growled as he swiped at Harry. Draco's chest was heaving and his face looked totally furious. This latest attempt of Pothead to embarrass him was clearly pushing him over the edge.

"Well it's true! You're a coward if you won't go through with your word you egotistical maniac!" Harry snarled back, edging out of the way of Draco's fists. His seeker reflexes, however, weren't able to help him much from the blows of a livid Slytherin whom he had embarrassed in front of the entire school.

Again.

"Do you think you can just manipulate me this way?!" Draco roared as he delivered a punch right on Flakehead's lip. He was humiliated beyond belief. The whole school thought he had backed down. Not that it wasn't almost true. But that was beside the point. Because everyone thought he was afraid.

Of a Gryffindolt.

The complete shame was horrendous.

Draco lunged his head at Harry's stomach, simply wanting to render The Prat unconscious again since this whole absurdity started. Anything to jar the bloody scum's brains out of his stupid stupid head.

"I believe I just did, because we're still going to Hogsmeade on Saturday," Harry all but screamed, his voice tinged with a hint of triumph. He was unable to move out of the way and ended up on his back with an enraged Slytherin on top of him.

At Harry's last words, Draco thumped Harry's head on the stone floor and left him in a whisk of robes.

After a minute, Harry sat up cautiously and reached around for his glasses. The pair was passed on to his hands by Ron. As Harry put his glasses on, Hermione's worried face and Ron's smug smirk came into view. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Are you okay Harry?" Hermione fussed.

"I'm fine Hermione," Harry said crossly, dusting his robes.

"You don't look fine," interrupted The Reigning King of Bastards in the classroom at the moment.

Harry Potter, in fact, looked like he just came out of a bar room brawl. Which almost happened to be true, if one did not bother with inconsequential details.

His bottom lip was split in two, and another shiner was appearing on his left eye. His nose looked broken and he had blood in his shirt.

"I told you not to send the letter. I told you so. But nobody ever listens to me, no sir," Ron chanted annoyingly as they made their way back to their dormitories.

"Yes Ron, you're absolutely brilliant. Now will you shush and help me clean up Harry?" Hermione snapped.

"I can clean up myself!" yelped The Boy Who Leaped.

Hermione rolled her eyes as they reached their common room and ordered Harry to stand still. She fixed his split lip and took out the stains on Harry's shirt, but was not able to fix the black eye and broken nose.

"To the Infirmary Harry. And just be thankful you don't have classes first thing. I can't go with you, Arithmancy is waiting. I'll catch up with you later," she prattled and was gone in a flash.

Ron marched Harry on the way to the Hospital Wing and his size, thankfully, was lucrative in hiding the worst of Harry's appearance from public scrutiny.

As they reached the Infirmary, Ron turned to Harry with a serious expression that gnawed at Harry's anxiety. Harry wondered what other unceremonious trouble was going to be thumped down on his lap, causing him perhaps bloated legs and three bald heads this time.

"Just tell me one thing mate, since you look like absolute crap. Did you at least get a shot in?"