The Society for the Admiration of Harry Potter

The day only went downhill from there.

Madame Pomfrey was quick to turn him away from the hospital wing.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Malfoy, you've barely even got a bruise!"

"He hit me directly in the eye. I could be blinded. Do you want that on your conscience?"

"He threw up, too, Madame Pomfrey," Pansy chimed in helpfully, stroking the back of his head in time to her words.

"Must have got some bad syrup," she said shortly. "Someone--I believe someone from your house--has been putting what appears to be sneezing powder, but what is in fact a mild poison, into the syrup these past few weeks."

"Oh, Pansy!" Draco cried tragically. "Thou hast betrayed me!"

"What?"

"Did you put syrup on my sausage?"

"Yes...what's that got to do with it? Someone from Slytherin wouldn't be stupid enough to poison our own syrup."

"Oh, my god," Draco moaned. "I am going to die."

"No, you aren't," Pomfrey said. Honestly, she was the least comforting woman he'd ever had the misfortune to meet. "Here, take some chocolate. And stop coming down here so often. I must have seen you more times than any other student in this school--and never for anything more serious than a tiny bit of bobotuber pus."

Draco swallowed a mouthful of chocolate without even tasting it. "My father will hear about this," he said venomously.

Pomfrey patted his shoulder, and Draco shuddered. "I'm sure he will," she said patronizingly. "Now, run along. Classes start in five minutes."

They were fifteen minutes late--Draco found he needed to stop every few feet and swoon against the wall. He was so very ill, after all.

The first class that day was Potions--with Gryffindor. Draco sighed with relief when he realized he wouldn't have to deal with Padma, then immediately wanted to strangle himself for being relieved about anything Gryffindor.

But Snape didn't so much as blink when he marched in (suddenly feeling better), followed by Pansy, who was carrying both of their books and who had promised to take notes for him.

To Draco's great distress, Harry Potter had already taken the seat next to his. He looked absolutely miserable, and kept shooting glances across the aisle at Granger and Weasley. From the way Snape was smirking, Draco gathered that Potter was there mainly to be punished.

Really. Draco knew that Snape did this kind of thing to punish Potter, but it wasn't as if Draco appreciated it, either. He chomped viciously into his bar of chocolate.

Potter nudged him. "No eating in class," he hissed.

Draco blinked up at him and licked at the corners of his mouth. "No? And since when have you cared about rules?"

Potter was quiet for a moment, then tapped him again. "Guess Ron hurt you pretty bad," he said cheerfully.

"Potter!" Snape snapped. "See me after class."

Draco laughed softly. "Guess Snape's gonna hurt you pretty bad," he mused.

Potter kicked him under the table. How immature. Draco made sure Potter got a good, agonizing whiff of the chocolate bar before he took another bite. And then, he made sure Potter had a clear view as he decided to begin taking notes on a different subject:

Day One: Potter being an absolute prick.

No surprise there, but Potter managed to look outraged anyway.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Throughout the day, odd things continued to happen to Draco.

Like Luna Lovegood slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground, and then stared directly into his eyes when she managed to get up before he did. "I believe in you, Draco Malfoy," she whispered intensely. "We all do."

Then she kissed his cheek before running away.

Thank god no one saw that one.

But all of his friends were watching when Colin Creevey grabbed him at the top of the stairs and asked if he would be interested in doing a photo shoot "for a prestigious magazine--well, the Quibbler--but anyway they're interested in part-Veela and--"

"My blood is pure!" Draco bawled, on the verge of hysterics. "Pure, you hear me? All magic, and definitely all human!"

Potter, who happened to be walking by (that boy had a magnet in him for witnessing Draco's Most Embarrassing Moments), patted Creevey's back kindly. "Don't worry, Colin," he said. "You don't want to bother with a wanker like him anyway."

Draco was bright red. He wished he was a Veela. They didn't blush, anyway.

Padma, when he saw her in Ancient Runes, was marginally normal. Unlike some other people he could name, she didn't seem to think that being...a Saphaprodite, or whatever they were calling themselves--made Draco her chum all of a sudden.

But she was willing to help him with a difficult translation when he asked. Well, sort of. He shot furtive glances at her through the entire class as he struggled with some sort of difficult case problem, and finally excused herself from Hermione Granger.

"Yes?" she asked impatiently, tapping her fingers on his desk. "Quick, if you can--Hermione and I were just comparing the benefits of the Windshaw Method as opposed to the Parson process for the translation of Runes from--"

Draco shoved his messy, ink-ridden paper in her direction. He knew he was stupid for being the only stupid Slytherin to take this stupid class.

"Fine," Padma snapped. "But I sure hope you have some good notes to show us."

And that was how Draco discovered that he could use his official club duties to wrangle favors out of his fellow members. For "Potter looking a bit stubbly; needs to shave" he got a few free packets of the Skiving Snackboxes that the Weasley twins refused to sell to Slytherins. Creevey gave him a weird old muggle camera that was actually pretty fun to play with when Draco told him "Potter wearing weird socks with snitches today; does a house-elf do his shopping?"

Luna got him a subscription to the Quibbler. That was for free.

"You know," Weasley told him at the next meeting. "This isn't how we usually run things."

Draco glowered and bit off the head of the chocolate frog he was munching on. "I'm not surprised," he muttered. "Gryffindors wouldn't know how to run a secret underground club if their lives depended on it."

Weasley coughed something that sounded a lot like "order."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. "Orgy?"

Padma gave an enormous, completely fake sneeze, which fortunately diffused the situation but also left Millicent somewhat damp.

"Right," Padma said. "What notes do we have this week?"

Luna blinked. "I have some lovely notes from Divination. I doodled a butterfly and Ron Weasley's head in the margin, but aside from that they're completely readable.

Ginny Weasley wrinkled her nose, but otherwise the group completely ignored the comment--over the three weeks he had spent as a member of the club, Draco had realized that a lot of what Luna said was ignored.

Draco sucked on the leg of his frog. "I don't know," he said. "These notes cost me a lot to get. What'll you give me for them?"

Creevey stamped his foot. "That's not fair, Draco," he whined. And when had he said they could call him Draco? "You take notes, but you won't even let us look at them."

Millicent crossed her arms. "Yeah, and they aren't even that good of notes. Usually whoever we assign to track Harry gets to talk to him and record the conversations. It's much more fun than reading 'Potter was yelled at in Potions. Hah hah hah.'"

Padma nodded her agreement. "Yeah," she said. "That's why we usually have Luna and Ginny do it."

Well, duh. What was such a sensible girl doing in a club like this?

"I think Draco should make friends with him," Luna suggested. "He's so friendly, after all. Harry, I mean."

Draco tried not to throw up all over Creevey's carefully constructed Harry Potter memorial collage. "I like things just the way they are between me and Potter."

Weasley plucked a quill and a clipboard from the table. "Be that as it may," she said icily. "I think we should get someone else to do the spying. It's been nice having you as a member, Draco"--seriously, they had to stop it with the 'Draco'--"but maybe you'd be better suited to some other duty. You could be the public relations advisor or something."

It took a moment for the full repercussions of that statement to sink in. No more Skiving Snackboxes. No more Ancient Runes help. No more...well, actually, that was pretty much it. But still.

"This is my job!" he protested. "You said so! And I want to do it."

He was met with complete silence, and several stares.

He needed those Skiving Snackboxes, dammit!

"Listen," he said, in his most persuasive voice. "As Potter's rival, I can access more information about him than any of you could. Millicent, she's just another Slytherin. And Creevey's just a little fanboy. Weasley, what are you to him? Weasley's little sister?"

To Draco's chagrin, not one of them looked insulted. In fact, Weasley yawned. "You have got to stop calling me Weasley," she scolded. "You call all of my brothers that, too, and it makes for some very confusing sentences."

Draco stared at her blankly. He had no need to distinguish between the Weasleys; that was the point. They were all the same. Red. Muddy. Gryffindor. Poor. Loud. Harry Potter-y.

But he was willing to make a few concessions to get what he wanted. "Okay, Ginny," he said cheerfully. "Can I keep taking notes?"

Ginny was silent.

"Let's take a vote," Millicent suggested.

And so they did.

Two scraps of parchment read 'yes.' One read 'no'. One said 'hippogriff' (Draco could guess who that was.)

"And Draco will continue his note taking," Padma said dryly, making a note on her clipboard.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He decided to take it up a notch the next day. He couldn't afford to lose his Skiving Snackboxes, after all (there was a huge black market for them. The Weasley twins had no idea).

So after classes were over, he went to wait in the library for Potter and his friends. He knew Granger had been dragging them down there almost every day to study for OWLs ("We can study just as well in the dorms, Hermione" "Oh no you don't, Ron Weasley").

Smart girl. Pity about the blood.

Draco arrived almost an entire hour before Potter and his groupies. He took 'their' table, and spread out notes from all his classes. He made sure to look very, very busy.

Potter stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he entered, a few steps ahead of Granger and Weasley. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he snarled.

Draco looked up innocently. "Studying, Potter," he explained. "That's what separates me from you."

"That's our table," Potter complained.

Draco shrugged. "That's too bad," he said pleasantly. "Because I'm quite settled in, myself."

Potter was turning red. Very quickly. Maybe provoking him in his tender state was a bad idea.

Luckily, Potter's friends stepped in. Friends? Honestly, they were more like zookeepers.

"Come on, Harry," Weasley said, shooting a sidelong glance at Draco. "You don't need another detention over this bastard."

Granger rushed in a few steps behind. "Come on, boys," she said. "There's a table right next to our usual one. Let's just sit there. If he bothers us," she added loudly. "We can just tell Madame Pince."

Potter was still grumbling as they took the next table over, but he complied. Mission accomplished. Draco pulled out the notebook he'd been using for his Harry Potter notes, and started a new entry. This would get him at least three Fainting Fancies.

Unfortunately, Potter's conversation was almost unspeakably dull. It seemed to be revolving around something his pet dog had given him for Christmas, and a bit about an army. It seemed to Draco as if Potter had read one too many issues of the Quibbler.

"And someday," Granger intoned. "House elves will be free to run their own society."

She was even boring her own friends. Weasley was drooling all over his History of Magic book. That was when Draco snapped.

"Oh, come on Granger! If we set the house-elves free they'd just roam around the streets cleaning things up, but with no food or places to stay. They'd cry themselves to death. My father freed one of our elves once, and she starved to death. Refused to eat."

Potter stepped in before Granger had a chance to respond. "Yes, and you and your father are such kind, loving people!"

"Your father tried to kill my sister!"

"He treated Dobby abominably--"

"Hey!" Draco interjected. "Dobby? Dobby the House-elf Dobby? I knew Dobby! Dobby was so funny. He always played games with me, and when he lost I made him iron his ears..."

Granger looked as if she might be sick. "You're disgusting," she said quietly.

"I said that I liked Dobby," Draco defended himself, suddenly feeling very outnumbered. Potter had drawn his wand. It looked very menacing. "Heh heh," Draco said. "I'll just get back to work now, shall I?"

"Get lost, Malfoy," Weasley said.

Draco did.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He tracked Ginny down that night for a consultation. She was a Gryffindor, after all. She knew how their minds operated. And, to be honest, his attempt at conversation had not gone very well. He was willing--marginally willing--to admit that.

And so he put on his invisibility cloak, and hurried up to the Gryffindor Common Room. He didn't know the password--and really, it wasn't not as if he wanted to get any closer to their little den than he had to. So he hid behind a suit of armor, and watched an endless stream of loud, smelly Gryffindors go by before he finally spied the one he wanted, fortunately alone.

As soon as Ginny was in reach, Draco leapt out from behind the suit of armor, grabbed her wrist, tugged her wand away, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Don't talk," he said menacingly. "And I won't hurt you."

She bit his hand. He thought his ring finger might fall off.

"Yeeeeouch!" Draco screamed, hissing in pain. "Goddammit, woman! You can't just go biting people willy-nilly! Oh, I will tell my father--I'll be disowned--Weasley germs, I have Weasley germs--you're not a werewolf, are you?"

Ginny, who had been walking towards the Fat Lady, turned and faced him curiously? "Draco? Is that you?"

"Yes! Yes, it's me who did you think it was, you stupid, stupid Gryffindor?"

Ginny took a few steps towards him, reached out and tugged off his invisibility cloak. "You could have just said so," she scolded. "Instead of basically assaulting me."

Draco tried to smooth down his disheveled hair. "Yes," he said. "But that would be ignoring the basic fact that I do not want to be seen with you."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and with a mischievous smile, threw an arm around his shoulder. "Alright, Draco, my love!" she said. "Tell me all the passion of your mind!"

Draco looked around and was fervently glad that the corridor was empty. All the same, it was all he could do to resist screaming.

"Come on," he said with gritted teeth, thrusting her arm as far away as he could. "There's an empty classroom around here. I want to talk to you."

Ginny shook her head. "No way," she said. "I have to meet Michael. You can walk me down. We can talk on the way."

"Give me my invisibility cloak, and I will."

Ginny held up the cloak curiously. "Huh," she said. "I didn't even realize I still had this. You can have it back when we get to Ravenclaw."

The girl, clearly, was insane. Probably her parents couldn't pay any attention to her as a child. Probably she felt neglected. It was only this that prevented Draco from smacking her across the face. Generally, he didn't hit girls. It was ungentlemanly, after all. But she didn't really count as a girl, did she?

"So?" Ginny prompted, twirling the cloak over her head. "Talk."

Now that Draco actually had an opportunity to get some actual advice on his...well, spying--he wasn't sure how to proceed. When had he sunken so low?

"Hermione told me you were bothering them in the library," she said nonchalantly.

Draco took a deep breath and began talking quickly, before he could back out of what he wanted to say. "Yes," he said. "They were just sitting there talking, and I said something to them, and all of a sudden it was a fight and I left before they could kill me..."

He trailed off. Ginny's eyes were sparkling, and it looked like she was doing everything in her power not to start cackling madly.

"Maybe," she said kindly. "You shouldn't just butt in the middle of their conversation. They hate you--"

"And I hate them."

"Right. So start up a conversation. Don't just stick yourself into one they're already having."

Draco crossed his arms and was quiet. "I don't want to talk to Potter," he said, very quietly.

Ginny shrugged. "Then don't. It's completely your choice. We'll get someone else to do it."

Draco thought of all the Skiving Snackboxes he would be missing out on and reconsidered. "No, no, I'll do it," he said hurriedly. "But I like the way it was going before. You know. Where I didn't actually talk to Potter. It was very pleasant."

Ginny shook her head cheerfully. "I don't think so," she said. "It will be good for you. Diversify your circle a little."

Draco pouted. "Can I at least get some Snackboxes for my conversation today?"

"No," Ginny said. "I can't keep stealing from Fred and George; they're bound to notice sometime. Besides, Hermione already told me all about your 'conversation.' If you want to call it that."

Ginny stopped abruptly. Draco was confused. "We're at Ravenclaw, now," she reminded him. "...You can go. Now. Please." When Draco didn't move, she stuffed his cloak into his hands and gave him a shove, sending him stumbling a few steps away.

Draco was confused. If anything, he should be the one wanting to leave. Instead, Ginny Weasley was doing her utmost to get rid of him.

Suddenly, something clicked. "Ah! Little Weasley has a date!" Draco said triumphantly. "I knew there was something!"

Ginny blushed. "Yes, I'm seeing Michael Corner. And I don't need him seeing me with you. He's...a bit touchy, you know."

The door to the Ravenclaw Common Room began opening. It only took a minute for Draco to decide what he was going to do. Without even thinking about it, he threw an arm around Ginny's shoulder and pulled her face close to his. Her hair was even redder up close, he noticed.

"Ginny? What are you doing?" asked an incredulous Michael Corner.

Draco looked up. "Oh, hello, Corner!" he said brightly. "Dear little Ginny here was just asking me to escort her up to you. Such a tender girl, isn't she?"

Corner's face grew steadily purple. Draco looked over his shoulder and saw a curious bunch of Ravenclaws subtly eavesdropping on the scene. "Hello, Padma!" he said cheerfully. "Luna, good to see you."

Michael turned and faced his housemates incredulously. "You knew about this?"

"All about it," Luna said solemnly. "We would have told you, but it was such a secret."

"Luna!" Ginny yelped. "You are not helping!"

Draco laughed and slipped away unseen. They could handle it themselves from here.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Ginny was wrong: he didn't have to start a conversation with Harry and Friends the next day. Ron Weasley did that for him.

"What the HELL did you do to my sister?" he roared over breakfast the next morning. Potter stood beside him with his arms crossed. Granger gnawed nervously on her lip.

Draco blinked and set down the bit of toast he had been buttering. "Excuse me," he said politely. "This isn't your table."

"I know that!" Weasley yelled. "I'm not stupid!"

"You certainly seem to be out to prove yourself wrong on that count," Draco said dryly, amused as he noted the confused look on Weasley's face. "You'll make yourself hoarse talking like that."

Weasley looked across the hall to where most of Gryffindor was cheering. "Go, Ron!" shouted Seamus.

Thank god the Weasley Twins were no where to be found. In that case, Draco would be truly doomed.

Weasley lowered his voice a little bit. "She came in crying at about midnight last night saying something about you--she called you Draco!" he added, sounding truly revolted.

"The point is, Malfoy," Potter said. "You stay away from us, and we'll stay away from you."

"But if we find out you've been messing with Ginny...well..."

Draco threw down his fork and stood up. "Really," he said. "I don't think it's any business of yours what I do. And I don't appreciate this. Not one bit."

Weasley's fists balled up at his side. Granger's hand reached out to still him. "Don't, Ron!" she warned.

"Yeah, that's right," Draco smirked. "Listen to your girlfriend. She's the only one you'll ever get."

Draco appreciated the fist in his nose even less than he appreciated the whole Gryffindor accusation thing. And he was somewhat surprised when he saw the person at the end of the fist--Harry Potter, blinking owlishly behind his glasses and looking quite unsure where his fist had gone.

"My, god, you're a bastard, Potter," Draco said, and tackled him to the ground.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

For once, Draco had a legitimate reason to go to Madame Pomfrey's.

"I believe your nose is broken, Mr. Malfoy," she said critically, "We'll have to get that set right away."

Draco sneered across the room at Potter, who had been made to walk Draco up to the Hospital Wing. "No complaints, Mr. Potter, or it'll be detention for a month," Snape had said. Was that honestly the only thing the man could think up to punish Potter? Making him follow Draco?

Well, there was also the detention next Friday, which, knowing Snape, would probably be horrible.

But really. Draco wasn't that unpleasant to be around.

"What did you do to him, Mr. Potter?" Pomfrey asked absent mindedly, as she tapped Draco's nose with her wand. "Children these days...it's not good for you to be raised in this atmosphere of violence. Why, back in my day..." she trailed off. "Alright, Mr. Malfoy," she said grimly. "You're cured. Hopefully, we won't be seeing each other for a while."

Draco stared up at her, dumbfounded. "That's it? Just tap-tap and I can leave?"

Potter snorted. "You've lived in the Wizarding World your whole life and you've never needed a bone fixed or anything?"

Draco was very affronted. "I, unlike you, do not go looking for trouble. Therefore, I, unlike you, manage to remain fairly healthy."

Potter opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but closed it quickly. Draco pointed at him victoriously. "Hah! I have utterly crushed you with my cunning and wit!"

The blank look in Potter's eyes convinced Draco that it actually didn't take much to crush Potter's spirit. "We just wanted to know what you did to Ginny," he muttered. "Madame Pomfrey, can I go now?"

She nodded and busied herself with signing a sheet giving Draco permission to go back to class. Draco, however, was focused on Potter's sudden retreat.

"The next time you want to talk to me about anything," he shouted. "Try talking to me! Words, not fists, Potter!"

Potter, typically, gave no indication that he had heard anything whatsoever.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He resolved, the next morning, to use his Fainting Fancies to his advantage. It was nice having time off. Pansy, after the sixth time he swooned just before a class, became absolutely convinced that he was dying. The result of this was that he did not see an entire Saphaprodite the entire day, unless you counted a glimpse of the back of Millicent's cloak as she left the dungeons.

After classes were over for the day, he decided he might want to take Ginny's advice on handling Potter. It wasn't completely out of the question that they could have a normal, civil conversation, was it? They were in most of the same classes, after all. It would be just like talking to Terry Boot, or someone else he didn't know particularly well.

So he returned to the library, took the same table he had two days ago, hoped he didn't make an idiot out of himself again, and resolved that he would not, under any circumstances, be scared away by Ron Weasley.

He stood up as soon as Potter, Weasley, and Granger entered. "I hope you were just leaving," Weasley said loudly.

Draco shrugged. "Not exactly," he said. "I was actually hoping one of you might be willing to help me on my Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment."

Granger rolled her eyes. "You can't possibly need help on that miserable trash Umbridge has been handing out lately," she said scornfully.

"Hey, we aren't all as smart as you, Granger," Draco said lightly, wincing as he spoke.

"We aren't helping you," Ron snarled. "What? Do you want to mess with me like you messed with my sister?"

Draco positively cackled with glee. "Was that a Freudian slip, Weasley?" He paused for his statement to take effect. Weasley rather resembled a fluffy tomato. "Besides," he added, more soberly, "I really didn't do anything to your sister. Just a little joke--your older brothers turned her into a parrot at dinner last night, for goodness sake. Go yell at them."

Weasley turned even redder. "They only did that to cheer her up," he muttered.

Draco sighed. "Yes. I, for one, can never be happy unless I have wings and a beak."

Potter, who had remained quiet during the argument, grabbed each of his friends by the elbow and steered them towards a table a few feet away from Draco's. "Come on, guys," he said. "Let's just sit down and get to work."

Draco stared after them as they left. He hadn't expected this. He'd sort of thought, all these years, that the Gryffindors would be ready to be friends as soon as he was. They weren't exactly known for holding grudges, after all. Dumbledore, for one, was stupidly forgiving. And wasn't he supposed to be Potter's mentor? Weasley, or even Potter, he could understand having this attitude. But from Miss House Elf Rights Granger? He'd expected...not forgiveness, but something.

"Fine," Draco muttered in their general direction. "I thought you Gryffindors might be interested in building bridges. Forming alliances. That kind of thing." He was met with total silence, and six dullish looking eyes staring directly at him. "Am I the only one who listened to the Sorting Hat's song this year?" he asked meekly.

That got a reaction. Granger gasped and tugged Potter's ear down, so she could whisper something in his ear. Draco stared at the little trio hopefully, while Weasley crossed his arms and glowered.

"Fine," Potter snapped. "I'll help you with your stupid Defense assignment." But he didn't move.

"Well, are you coming?" Draco asked impatiently.

Potter sighed heavily and grabbed his bag. "Just a minute," he groused. "Don't be so impatient."

Weasley thumped his back heartily. "We'll be right here if you need us, mate," he said. "And you--Malfoy--don't you dare try anything, or we'll hex your head up your arse. Not that it isn't up there already."

Potter ignored his friend and thumped his books on the table, grunting in greeting. He stared at Draco expectantly. "So? Where's your assignment?"

"Oh," Draco said, as if such a thing were only now occurring to him. "I thought we might chat for a bit. I mean, that's what you do with Granger and Weasley, mostly. Talk."

"And you listen?" Potter demanded shrilly. "God, Malfoy--what do we even have to talk about?"

"The weather's been balmy lately," Draco proceeded blithely.

"It snowed yesterday."

"Yes--but for February."

Potter looked over his shoulder to check that his friends weren't listening, then leaned forward. "What do you really want, Malfoy?" he demanded. "I know for a fact that insufferable pricks like you don't just reform over night. Ron's brother Percy--"

He stopped short. Draco was disappointed. He wanted to hear more.

"What about the brother?"

"None of your business," Potter said coldly. "You should just know that Ron's family is a thousand times better than yours will ever be."

Draco had to bite his tongue at this insult to his father. That was one area where Potter spared no means of offending him. "Ah, let's not bring families into it, shall we, Potter?" he said. "I wouldn't want you to feel left out. Since--you know. You don't have one."

Behind them, Granger had leapt to her feet, but Draco didn't notice. Potter had whipped out his wand--again. Was this the only way Gryffindors had of solving disagreements?

"Harry!" Granger darted around the table and grabbed Potter's wrist. "Harry, please don't get us thrown out--I need to be able to use the library." He looked at her curiously, almost as if he'd momentarily forgotten that he had a friend named Hermione Granger. "Harry," she pleaded.

Potter lowered his wand. "I'm not going to curse you," he muttered. "Not in the library. But--Hermione, are you really going to make me help him?"

"If you want to look at my History of Magic notes," she said severely, and then, turning to Draco, "I want to make a few things clear. I still think you're the slimiest bastard I've ever met, Malfoy."

"Well, that's a nice start."

"But--you're right. It's stupid not to have any allies in Slytherin--"

"Allies? Are you starting something?"

"--And if you're willing to bridge the gap, well, then, we should be, too," she concluded, smiling in a way that Draco, for one, thought was a bit over-satisfied.

Potter looked as if he might vomit.

"D'you want me to stay?" Granger asked, looking concerned. Draco shook his head, and, with a concerned glance at Harry, she bounced back towards Weasley.

"Guh," said Potter. Maybe he was on drugs. In that case, maybe Draco could forgive him a little, and also ask where he was getting it. Otherwise, the whole 'allies' thing was pretty much a lost cause. Too bad for Granger.

"So," Draco said, in one last effort to strike up conversation. "I noticed the Gryffindor team hasn't been out practicing for Quidditch lately."

He seemed to have struck a chord. Potter's eyes lit up, at the first mention of Quidditch. "Well, it's cold out," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah? Well, you'll need to practice a lot harder if you want to have any chance of keeping up with us," Draco challenged.

"Oh, please, Malfoy--if it was down to the Seeker, we'd beat you every time."

"And what happened to that famous Potter modesty? I'm shocked, Potter, really."

"Well, really, though, Malfoy, be honest: in a fair game, you wouldn't beat me. Actually, not even in an unfair game. Remember that time in second year when--"

"Yes, yes, I remember," Draco cut him off. "Have you ever considered that maybe you don't win because you're a better seeker? Maybe you win because you have better Chasers and Kee--well, you used to have a better Keeper."

Potter glanced over his shoulder to check that Weasley wasn't listening. "Maybe Ron's not spectacular," he hissed. "But I'd rather have him on my team than you."

Draco whistled through his teeth. "Do you really think I'd want to be on any team with you on it?"

Never mind that he was currently part of an underground society that basically worshipped Potter. That was irrelevant.

Potter looked up at him oddly, with a strange tint to his eyes that Draco could not interpret.

"Let's just do the assignment," he said wearily.