She was finally home.

Seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger opened her bedroom door and tossed her red suitcase onto her neatly made full-size bed. She kicked off her white sandals and flopped down next to her suitcase, staring up at the ceiling over her bed, sighing happily.

She and her parents had just spent three weeks in the Yucatan Peninsula, located in Mexico. While it was enjoyable to walk the streets of Merida, eat delicious foods, and explore the nearby ancient Mayan temples, Hermione was glad to be home.

When her parents surprised her with a trip to anywhere, Hermione jumped at the chance to go to Mexico. She’d read that Uxamal was the site of of a Mayan ceremonial center, complete with a Soothsayer’s Pyramid, so she had been looking forward to visiting the ancient ruins.

Not surprisingly, after touring the site, Hermione had written three rolls of parchment for Professor Binns, a History of Magic teacher at the wizarding school she attended, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione Granger was a witch. One would not suspect that by looking at her, for she was rather plain with her long, curly, light brown hair and almond-shaped hazel eyes, but to those who knew her, Hermione was beautiful in her own quirky way.

Many considered her to be “the cleverest witch of her age”. She knew plenty of spells and always received top marks in all of her classes, including Potions, taught by the insufferable Professor Snape. But Hermione lived her life, when away from Hogwarts, as a Muggle--a non-magical person. Her parents, both dentists, were considered by all in the magical world to be Muggles, for they did not possess real magic.

It had been quite a shock the day Hermione had received her first letter from Hogwarts, stating she had been accepted. A witch? Her? Neither she nor her parents could believe it, but they understood Hermione was different; she was smart, witty, and could memorize just about anything she’d read or had been told.

Thinking back to her vacation, Hermione couldn’t help but smile. It had been wonderful, almost perfect; she’d learned so much about the ancient Mayan culture, but what made it even more fantastic was the fact that she’d literally bumped into an old friend.

Viktor Krum, the International Quidditch superstar who played the position of Seeker for Bulgaria, had also been wandering through the ceremonial temples of Uxamal. Surprised, Hermione had asked him what he was doing in Mexico. He’d explained that he and his team were playing against the Mexican Quidditch Team, the Mayan Marauders, to raise money for St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward.

But this did not explain why he was in the temple, Hermione had wondered aloud. Sheepishly, Viktor admitted he was interested in Mexican history, and wanted to get a glimpse of some ancient temples before leaving the country. Thrilled to discover this, Hermione had taken it upon herself to show the brooding Bulgarian Seeker through the Mayan ruins. Later, Viktor was able to coax Hermione into sitting on the sidelines while he and his fellow Bulgarians practiced for the next day’s charity event.

The following day, Hermione had woken to discover Viktor had left tickets for her and her parents to see the game. Her parents were a bit befuddled and wondered what it was they’d actually be seeing, as Hermione had only ever explained the basics: a fast-paced, high-flying game on broomsticks involving a Quaffle, a Bludger, a Golden Snitch, and three hoops at either end of a large field.

This was her chance to show her parents the exciting game that was all anyone in the magical community could ever talk about. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were a bit apprehensive when they’d arrived at a very old and shuttered colosseum, but Hermione had explained this was perfectly normal, for the magical community very much preferred if Muggles did not know about them.

The game had gone well, with Viktor catching the Golden Snitch and adding 150 points to the team’s current 100 points. The Mayan Marauders had scored 90 points; all agreed it was a well-played match that raised over 800,000 Galleons for St. Mungo’s. Later that evening, Viktor and Hermione celebrated by dining and dancing under the stars.

Hermione rose from her bed and crossed the room to her large oak desk. She sat down and took out a quill, ink bottle, and parchment, so that she could write letters to her friends, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and his sister, Ginny. She then opened the window over her desk, allowing a small breeze to waft in. Dipping her quill into the ink bottle, Hermione thought about what to write to her three companions.

To Ginny, her best friend, she would give specific details about her vacation, but to Harry and Ron, she decided it was best to be very general and not chatter away. Ron was still torn between worshipping and loathing Viktor Krum, so Hermione decided she would leave out the parts where she and the Bulgarian Seeker actually spent time alone.

After she finished writing her letters, she handed them to her bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks. His pug face showed his pleasure at this simple task for his mistress and he jumped up onto the desk, carefully clamping his jaws around the letters. With a swish of his bottlebrush tail, Crookshanks hitched himself through the open window. Hermione knew he’d find an owl to send the letters to her friends, but how Crookshanks did this, she could never quite figure out. And Ron thinks my cat’s a stupid git,Hermione thought with a smirk.

Hermione moved over to the bed again and began unpacking the things in her suitcase. As she was placing her jumpers into the closet, a whooshing sound caught her attention, and she looked over to see a large brown barn owl sitting on the very same spot she’d been writing her letters. In its beak was a yellowed envelope with emerald green writing. Hermione knew immediately what this was: a welcome back letter from Hogwarts complete with a list of items she’d need for the coming year.

She took the letter from the owl, patted it on the head, then gestured to Crookshanks water dish. Hooting its thanks, the owl hopped over to the yellow saucer and gulped politely before spreading its wings and taking flight.

Hermione noticed the letter was thicker than usual...and a bit lumpy. Turning it over, she slit it open and peered inside. There lay a shiny object smaller than her hand. “What in the...?” She tipped the envelope over and the metallic object fell into her hand. She flipped it over and read “Head Girl”.

“Head Girl? HEAD GIRL!” she gasped, dropping the envelope in shock, Quickly recovering, however, Hermione scooped it up and hurriedly opened it. She unfolded the bundle of papers; the top one read:

Dear Ms. Granger,

We would like to express our great pleasure in naming you the new Head Girl for the coming school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed your new Head Girl badge and list of schoolbooks and other items needed for the year.

You will need to arrive at Platform 9-3/4 by 10 o’clock sharp on the morning of September 1. As Head Girl, you will be required to greet new and returning Hogwarts students and set a good example for all.

As an added bonus, you will not only be provided with your own compartment on the Hogwarts Express, you and the Head Boy will be given your own common room and dormitories. You will be expected to act with the grace and maturity that your new position commands, so please do not consider any such tomfoolery that may land you into a world of trouble.

Upon arrival at that school, please see me for further instructions and passwords.

Yours,
Prof. Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Hermione stared at the letter for a moment in disbelief. Head Girl? My own common room and dormitory?she thought wildly. That seems a little...odd. Hermione had to admit she didn’t know of any other Head Boy or Girl in the past having access to their own rooms, but maybe Professor Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster, was trying a different approach this year--an experiment of sorts.

If this is true, I must make certain the Head Boy and I set an excellent example, Hermione thought with a slight nod of her head. There will be no 'tomfoolery' whilst I am Head Girl!

Hermione had to smile; Professor McGonagall was politely skirting the issue of relations between a girl and a boy, but Hermione had no real interest in doing anything beyond snogging with a boy.

Turning her thoughts back to her new postion, Hermione gave an excited scream then dashed down the stairs, calling for her Mum and Dad. When they read the letter, they were very excited for their daughter; Mr. and Mrs. Granger might not know much about the wizarding world, but they knew what being Head Girl meant.

Hermione rushed back up the steps to her room and quickly penned more brief, but happy, notes to her three friends. It was at this moment that Crookshanks hopped up onto the open windowsill.

“Great timing, Crookshanks,” Hermione smiled at her cat, “because I’ve got great news and I need you to get these delivered.”

Crookshanks peered at her in slight annoyance, obviously not wanting to go back out so soon, but he took these letters from Hermione and left once more.

Hermione twirled around the room in utter happiness. She’d be off to Diagon Alley tomorrow to collect her schoolbooks and other items, then the following day would be her first official day as Hogwarts’ Head Girl.

She wondered who Dumbledore had chosen to be Head Boy. Another Gryffindor, perhaps? A Hufflepuff? Who would be worthy? Hermione shrugged dismissively; it didn’t matter right now; she’d find out soon enough. Closing her eyes and grinning so broadly she felt as though her face would split in two, Hermione thought: This was a perfect end to a perfect summer!

It was unusually dark in the bedroom of Draco Malfoy. He liked it this way, as it matched his current mood. Usually, this room was the one place where he felt like he could be himself; where he didn’t have to present a face he hated to the rest of the world, but in the last few weeks, he’d had to put up with quite a bit concerning his father and mother.

His father, Lucius Malfoy, had been re-arrested for possessing some ‘questionable objects’. Lucius had been placed back into Azkaban prison just weeks after he was released following an arrest stemming from his discovery in a forbidden room in the Ministry of Magic nearly a year previous. Lucius had been attempting to steal something for the Dark Lord. Draco felt sick at the sight of his father being led away in shackles, watched like a hawk by Ministry of Magic Aurors and Arthur Weasley, who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Weasel-King’s dad must have found that vastly amusing, Draco thought bitterly. What a sodding git.

It hadn’t been a picnic here at Malfoy Manor since that day. Narcissa Malfoy, Draco’s mother, had taken to drilling into him the obligations of being a Malfoy; always being the very best and remembering he was a pureblood wizard. Draco heard this over and over again, and had grown quite tired of it. He’d begun making excuses not to be around his mother any more than he needed to.

Draco knew his mother was acting that way to save face; she had begun drinking heavily, falling down quite often and throwing empty Ogden’s Firewhiskey bottles against her bedroom wall. When she wasn’t badgering Draco, she was sitting in her room crooning to her reflection. The house elves were not allowed to enter her room during these times, but that didn’t seem to bother them; they had taken to caring for Draco to the point where he’d locked himself into his room to escape the ridiculousness of it all.

He walked over to the huge window looked down at the immaculate rose garden. It was his mother’s pride and joy, one she often bragged about to her snobby, socialite, wizarding friends. Soon this might all be gone, he thought sullenly; the Ministry of Magic had seized and frozen all of the Malfoy’s asset and accounts, making life for Draco and his mother very difficult indeed. While it had been proven that Lucius Malfoy was a hated Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord’s minions, the same could not be said for Narcissa and Draco.

Draco knew that would change; he was a Malfoy, therefore expected to do certain things. He was not looking forward to joining his father at the Dark Lord’s side, and had expressed this once many years ago, to his father’s great displeasure.

“He will be most pleased with you, I think, Draco,” Lucius Malfoy drawled, seated in a large wing-back chair near a roaring fire, swirling his glass of brandy.

Thirteen-year-old Draco stood in the middle of the room, his head white-blonde head bowed, saying nothing.

“The Dark Lord likes his servants to be cunning, quick, and loyal. Are you those things, Draco?”

“Yes, Father.” Draco replied obediently, looking at his shoes.

“Loyal, Draco; remember that. The Dark Lord expects me to be loyal to him, and I expect you to be loyal to me.” Lucius’ gaze bore into Draco’s head so deeply that the young boy nearly winced in pain.

“I understand, Father.”

“One day, when you join the Greatest Wizard of All Time, you will need to remember your place and to whom you are loyal to.”

Draco’s head snapped up at this. “When I join...? Father, I never agreed--” He could not finish; his father’s face suddenly loomed before him.

“Silence.” Lucius did not have to raise his voice; the cold, venomous tone spoke volumes. “You are a Malfoy, and therefore have certain obligations regarding this family. You will swear your allegiance to the Dark Lord, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father.” Draco bit his lip. He wanted to shout out that he didn’t want to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but knew his father would not take that news happily.

Lucius continued: “We will put and end to all Mudbloods and Blood Traitors. We will once again be a great wizarding community; all Muggles will tremble before us! We will live like kings!”

“...Like kings,” Draco scoffed, slamming his hand against the window pane. “We are living as empty shells of kings, thanks to you, Father.”

His gaze traveled to a small box laying on the table next to his bed. If his mother knew about this, she’d be so disappointed in Draco, but he felt that at this moment, he had no choice; Draco had an obligation to his mother to keep up appearances, no matter what the consequences. Would she ever understand what he was about to do with what lay inside the box?

‘Obligation...’ ; this line whispered over and over in Draco’s head, sometimes even in the dead of night when all was still and silent. He wanted to scream, to shout that he was sick of obligations; he was seventeen years old, and still unsure of what he wanted to become. Draco was his father’s son, but not his father. Lucius’ choices were not his own; Draco had very different values and beliefs, but did not dare show them to others, for he loved Lucius and did not want to disappoint him.

He had no one to speak to about this, this sick, everything-is-spinning-out-of-control feeling, for he had no real friends to confide in. Crabbe and Goyle were not really close to him; they were like stupid leeches, hanging onto him to receive scraps of celebrity and the chance to impress him with their brawn, but neither were capable of holding an intelligent thought, therefore leaving Draco without a true friend.

His thoughts suddenly strayed to someone unexpected: Harry Potter. Draco sneered at the thought of the dark-haired boy with the lightning scar. “Saint Potter,” he spat. “Never without his share of friends, now is he? I wonder what spell the bleeding sod had to put on Weasel and the Mudblood to keep them from running away.”

But even as he said this, Draco felt a pang of jealousy. Potter had true friends, as was evident in the sacrifices they made for him. Draco knew no spell could make anyone do that for another human being. If only I could have that, Draco thought with the tiniest hint of wistfulness, then perhaps I would finally be happy.

It was at this moment, Draco heard a loud tap-tap-tap on the window he’d just walked away from. Crossing over to the window, Draco threw wide the sash. A large gray owl zoomed into the room, carrying something in its beak. This was not his owl, so who’d be sending him something this late in the day?

The bird landed at the foot of his king-size bed. It hooted softly around a slip of paper in its beak. Draco withdrew the parchment; it was crumpled and stained by a dark liquid. He opened it and read:

Mr. Malfoy,

I have news that would greatly please your father. Please meet me at The Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at noon. I’ll be wearing the green feather.

-A Friend

Draco stared a moment at the note in his hand. As though I don’t have enough to worry about, he scoffed. Who was this person and what news did they have? Did it pertain to the Dark Lord? Draco turned away from the owl in disgust. The bird hooted questioningly, turning its head to stare at him. It ruffled its feather once more, but did not take flight; it seemed to be waiting on him to do something.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a reply then?” Draco drawled, striding over to his huge desk that stood to right of the fireplace at the far end of the chamber. He withdrew a quill, ink bottle and a slip of parchment.

Here Draco paused. What if he didn’t meet with this mysterious person? What would his father do or say if he discovered this had been important information, and it had not been received? Father would not be pleased, Draco sighed heavily. And that is quite an understatement. Lucius Malfoy was a man of many sides, and one of them was best not shown, as he had unusual ways of making one feel terror and pain; it was no wonder he was one the Dark Lord’s most talented Death Eaters.

Again, Draco sighed. He had enough on his plate as it was, and getting involved with his father’s affairs had not been on Draco’s agenda.

‘Obligation..’ a voice whispered softly. There it was again; reminding him; berating him...taunting him. Draco snarled as he suddenly bent over to pen a quick reply. Automatically, he folded the letter then dripped hot wax from a nearby candle upon it, and blotted it with his ring bearing the Malfoy Crest. He didn’t care much that he’d used the wrong wax or that the seal was sloppy; he just wanted to get the damn bird out of here.

Taking the letter from Draco, the owl spread its wings and zoomed off into the evening air. The letter it had left behind was unceremoniously tossed into the fire in the massive marble fireplace.

As Draco stared unblinkingly into the fire, a sudden gust of wind swirled around the room, causing the flames to dance. Shivering slightly, Draco realized he’d forgotten to close the window. He turned back to do so, and was quite startled by a small tawny owl sitting upon his bed. It was carrying something in its beak; something Draco recognized immediately.

“Ah, Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Misery,” he chuckled, approaching the bird and taking the heavy yellowed envelope from it. Immediately Draco noticed something unusual; the missive felt lumpy, almost a bit heavy.

Without a word, Draco split open the envelope. A shiny badge fell out into his hand. He read the word imprinted upon the face and smiled. “Head Boy,” he smirked. “How very lucky for me.”

He quickly scanned the enclosed papers, then set the badge down on the night stand next the small, hand-carved, lacquered box. Draco opened it, looked at the item inside, then closed it once again.

“It looks like I will be having quite a busy day tomorrow,” he said to no one in particular.

Again, he looked at his Head Boy badge. He wondered whom Dumbledore had chosen to be Head Girl? It was likely not another Slytherin, so his first guess, Pansy Parkinson, would be incorrect. Granger? Maybe. One of the Patil sisters? Perhaps.

It didn’t really matter; whoever she was, she’d be no match for him. Draco would run circles around her, and then he’d be able to ensure Slytherin’s win of the House Cup and, perhaps, give his father something to be proud of.

He scoffed silently to himself at this. It seemed that regardless of where he went, Draco’s obligation to his family would continue to haunt him. He must remember to keep up appearances after he left home to attend school; he vowed he would not let his family down.

“The Head Girl is going to wish Dumbledore had chosen the Head Boy a bit more carefully,” Draco snickered aloud.

“Harry!” Hermione called out, when she spotted her friend making his way up Diagon Alley towards Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, where she sat eating vanilla ice cream. She dropped her spoon into the empty dish, pushed back her chair and flew into Harry’s outstretched arms.

“Hello, Hermione,” Harry laughed. “How was your summer?”

Hermione disentangled herself from Harry, stepping back to giving him a small frown. “Didn’t you get my letter? I wrote all about it.”

A smile broke across Harry’s face. “Yeah, I did, thanks.” He paused, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “It arrived at the Burrow last night.”

“Oh?” Hermione queried. “You were allowed to leave the Dursley’s early? Have they been worse than usual?”

“Actually, he’s been at my place for three weeks now,” Ron piped in, causing Hermione to look up at her red-haired friend. He was standing next to Harry, a look of annoyance on his freckled face.

“Oh!” Hermione gasped, realizing Harry wasn’t alone. “Hi Ron, how are you?” She patted his arm awkwardly. “Where’s Ginny?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks for noticing me,” he retorted. “...And Ginny’s with Mum getting a set of robes. Ginny grew a few inches over the summer, so Mum thought it was time to get her a new set.” Even as he said this, they all new what “new” meant.

“Oh, Ron, I didn’t mean to ignore you,” Hermione chided. “I was really concerned about Harry. You know how difficult his aunt and uncle can be!”

“Don’t I ever!” Ron laughed. “Go on, Harry, tell her what happened this time.”

Trying not to laugh, Harry relayed the scene at the Dursley household on Privet Drive three weeks prior: Mr. Weasley, Ron, Fred, and George showed up to collect Harry, as they had just before his fourth year at Hogwarts. This time, Mrs. Weasley had called and spoken to Aunt Petunia on the telephone to set the day and time for the pick up. Uncle Vernon was not pleased when he discovered one of them had phoned the house, after he’d specifically told Harry they were not supposed to, but he allowed the meeting to take place, if only to get rid of Harry three weeks sooner.

When the day arrived for the Weasley’s to collect Harry, the dark-haired teen had expected Ron and his family to arrive via Floo Powder. So Harry had waited patiently by the fireplace, wondering who was going to show up first. The Dursley’s, well aware of what had happened the last time, huddled in the corner of the living room, their collective expression was one of mortal fear.

However, when four o’clock rolled around, no one came through the fireplace; the Weasley’s decided to Apparate! Four sharp cracks filled the air, followed in succession by terrified screams and a giant crash.

When Harry had taken in the entire scene, he couldn’t believe his eyes: Fred and George had apparated on top of Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley, and Ron and apparated directly in the middle of Aunt Petunia’s coffee table, causing it to splinter and break into two pieces. Mr. Weasley had merely appeared standing in the middle of the living room, looking thoroughly bewildered. He tried apologizing, but Uncle Vernon, having shoved Fred off of him, turned purple with rage and began shouting insults. Aunt Petunia had reached for the closest thing she could manage to get her bony hands on: a throw pillow. She began swinging it at George in order to get him off her precious Duddy-kins.

It didn’t take an idiot to guess they were no longer welcome or wanted in the Dursley home; the five wizards left as quickly as the four Weasley’s had come.

By the time Harry had reached the last sentence, Hermione and Ron were convulsing with laughter. “Why-why is it,” she panted, gasping for breath, “that you can never seem to leave your aunt and uncle’s house on a pleasant note?”

Harry shrugged. “Can’t say.”

“Well,” Hermione replied, “I would have loved to have seen your cousin’s face when George suddenly appeared in his lap!”

“It was on his back, actually,” Ron corrected her. “Knocked the fat git clear to the floor!” More giggling followed this.

“Well, well, well,” a slick voice drawled from behind them. “What do we have here?” The trio turned to see Draco Malfoy sneering at them. “The Dynamic Duo Plus One laughing it up. How sickeningly sweet.”

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Harry retorted, stepping towards the blonde boy. They were nearly nose to nose. Malfoy’s lip curled in disdain.

“I haven’t got the time to play, Potty,” he said in a slightly amused tone. “So run along with your wee friends, and let the adults go about their business.”

“Adults?” Hermione replied sarcastically. “Let us know when you see one.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed maliciously as he rounded on Hermione. “I wasn’t talking to you, you filthy little Mudblood.”

Hermione, who knew Draco only called her that to upset her, should not have taken it personally, but did so anyway. She took a small step back, a look of hurt on her face. Ron, however, pushed Malfoy, causing him to stumble and drop something on the ground. It was retrieved quickly, but not before Hermione was able to get a look.

What was Malfoy doing with a small wooden box, and what was inside? she wondered.

“You’ll be sorry for that Weasel,” Malfoy threatened. He gave them all one last glare before sweeping off in the opposite direction.

“That went well,” Harry said aloud, after Malfoy had disappeared. He turned to Hermione and Ron. “I’d like to get out of here. Let’s go and get our books, shall we?”

Hermione and Ron agreed. Ron picked up Crookshanks, who’d been laying under the table where Hermione had been sitting, and Harry snatched up her bag. The trio headed for Flourish and Blotts, talking about their summer and making plans for the coming year along the way; Malfoy and his insults suddenly forgotten.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Stupid sods,” Draco muttered, as he walked away from Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He hadn’t meant to be so rude, but the sight of the three friends being so chummy made him jealous, and he wanted to make them as mad as he.

Draco made a right turn and headed towards Knockturn Alley. He pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head to avoid being spotted easily by anyone who might want something more than directions or a few coins.

He couldn’t think about the Tragic Trio at the moment; he had more pressing matters that needed his attention. Draco clutched the small box tighter to him; his mother would be so disappointed if she knew what he was about to do.

Just outside Borgins and Burkes, Draco paused. He wouldn’t have had to go through with this if his hadn’t been for his father. Draco wished he was anywhere in the world but standing here, but they needed money, and this seemed to be the only way...

Taking a deep breath, Draco pushed open the door, annoyed by the ringing bell above his head, signaling to the shopkeeper that someone had arrived. As Draco approached the counter, pulling off his hood, a stooping man in black robes appeared from behind a dark blue curtain. “May I help you?” He asked in a very oily voice.

Draco pulled the wooden box out from beneath his cloak. “Yes, Mr. Borgin, I wish to sell something.” He placed it down on the glass-topped counter with a small thump. The shopkeeper snatched it up almost immediately, prying open the lid with one dirty hand.

“Well, now, Master Malfoy,” the man stated in a slightly awed voice. “This is a rather pretty bauble.” He lifted a huge, sparkling diamond ring encrusted with emeralds set in a gold band from the box. Draco had to look away; he didn’t want to watch anyone greedily pawing his mother’s engagement ring.

“This item seems to have a personal touch,” Mr. Borgin said to Draco. “Where ever did you get it?”

“Never mind where I got it,” Draco snapped. “How much will you give me?” He was growing quite impatient with the old man. He wanted to complete the transaction and get out of there.

The man pulled a small round piece of glass out of the pocket of his robes, and fitted it over his right eye. He examined the ring closely, turning it over and over in his greasy hands. Draco wanted to snatch the piece of jewelry from him and apparate away from there, but a small voice inside told him that he had an obligation to his family, therefore it meant doing what was necessary to keep up the appearance of having money in their pockets.

His gaze traveled around the shop. It seemed that eons ago he and his father were standing in this very shop, trying unload onto Mr. Borgin a few items Lucius Malfoy hadn’t wanted anyone to know he’d had. Draco coveted the Hand of Glory, and was insulted when his father berated him about not getting top marks in school, telling him he should have been ashamed that a Mudblood like Granger was getting the better of him.

Now, as his gaze rested on the Hand of Glory, Draco found he didn’t want it at all.

After several moments, Mr. Borgin set down the eyeglass. “I can give you two hundred Galleons for it.”

“Two hundred?” Draco repeated incredulously. “It’s worth much more than that!”

“Perhaps, then, you should keep the ring instead of selling it to me for a quick buck,” Mr. Borgin shot back in his oily voice. Draco’s cheeks flamed.

“...But as you are Lucius Malfoy’s son,” Mr. Borgin continued, “I suppose I can give you three hundred Galleons. Will that be acceptable?” Draco nodded his head; he knew he had no choice but to accept or receive nothing. It was already killing him to stand here and receive that odd, knowing look from Mr. Borgin.

Mr. Borgin took the box and ring behind the blue curtain, and returned with a small leather pouch filled with coins. Draco took a few out, examined them to be sure they are real, then pocketed the money, leaving Borgins and Burkes as quickly as possible, pulling his hood up.

“Master Malfoy?”

Draco turned at the sound of Mr. Borgin calling out his name. “What is it?” he barked hoarsely at the ancient shopkeeper.

“My...niece attends Hogwarts as well; perhaps you will say hello to her for me--and give her a small trinket, as a token of my appreciation for her?”

Draco eyed Borgin suspiciously; he had relatives? Instead of asking, he held out his hand and the shopkeeper dropped a small black box onto his palm.

“Be sure she gets this, my dear boy; her name is Anya--and this is something I’m certain she’ll appreciate.”

Feeling quite doubtful that anyone would like receiving a gift from Mr. Borgin,Draco merely nodded. He pocketed the item and left as quickly as possible, not giving two whits about Borgin or his niece.

Draco still needed to buy his school books, but that could wait; now he had a meeting at the Leaky Cauldron...

~*~*~*~*~*~

After Hermione, Harry, and Ron visited Flourish and Blotts, they decided to visit Magical Menagerie. Hermione wanted to see about picking up a few things to keep Crookshanks occupied during the school year, while both Harry and Ron were content to look at the fascinating creatures that sat in cages lining every available space in the shop.

Crookshanks, however, had a different idea. The moment another patron opened to the door to step into the shop, the ginger cat leapt from Ron’s arms and took off like a shot, scooting around legs and tearing out into the Alley. “Crookshanks!” Hermione screeched, racing out the door behind her pet, the object she’d been examining quite forgotten.

“Stupid, bloody cat,” Ron said to Harry, who laughed as they followed Hermione outside.

Down Diagon Alley Crookshanks ran, faster and faster until he was almost out of sight. Hermione had to stop a moment to catch her breath before resuming the chase. “What’s gotten into you?” Hermione shouted down the Alley to her cat. Crookshanks did not look back; he seemed to be heading to someplace specific, and wanted Hermione to follow him.

Hermione was nearly upon Crookshanks when she realized he’d finally stopped. He was sitting in front of a shop called Borgin and Burkes. It was somewhat shabby in appearance and surrounded by crumbling shops. It didn’t take Hermione long to realize where she was: Knockturn Alley.

Hermione gulped; she’d never stepped foot into this place before. Hagrid, the Hogwarts Groundskeeper and one of her dearest friends, had told her once that this was a dodgy place. He was right; there were suspicious-looking witches and wizards lurking in nearly every dark corner. She wondered briefly if Mundungus Fletcher was hiding somewhere out there, but decided it was best that she didn’t try to find out.

Crookshanks let out a small mew, and Hermione looked down to see what was the matter. When she noticed him staring directly at the shop in front of them, Hermione automatically looked up and peered into the window.

She gasped when she saw Draco Malfoy receiving a pouch and then a box from the shopkeeper.

Hurriedly, Hermione scooped up Crookshanks and raced back up Knockturn Alley. When she reached Harry and Ron, who were looking for her in Diagon Alley, she relayed to them what she’d seen.

“Malfoy must be desperate,” Ron said with a smirk. “Why else would he be skulking around Knockturn Alley?

“...And in Borgin and Burkes, of all places,” Harry said. “I’d seen him in there with his dad a few years back, remember?” Ron and Hermione nodded. “He was probably unloading some of Voldemort’s stuff.” Ron cringed, and Harry continued. “I wonder how much stuff Malfoy has in his possession?”

“I’ve got to tell my dad, mate,” Ron blurted out. “He said they’d gotten everything from the last raid, but obviously they didn’t.”

Hermione held up one hand. “Wait. We don’t know for certain that’s what he was doing.”

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Ron argued. “Malfoy was at Borgins and Burkes. They’re famous for buying and selling oddities, rare items, and the like.”

Hermione bit her lip. “I still don’t know...”

“Whatever. Let’s go to the Leaky Cauldron, all right?’ Ron said, changing the subject. “Fred and George wanted to meet me there.”

Hermione nodded, setting Crookshanks on the ground. Crookshanks, his current mission completed, followed along behind the trio, his tail twitching happily.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Locating the green feather proved to be more difficult that Draco thought. First, The Leaky Cauldron was crowded, then he’d had to avoid being spotted by the Weasleys. That in itself was rather difficult, as he’d had to pass the table they’d gathered around. One of the twins had jostled him, and had apologized, but thankfully he’d had the hood of his cloak covering his head, so no one recognized him.

Once he was able to make it past the Weasleys, he noticed two patrons with green feathers. The first was a man handing out green quills, in celebration of his wife’s pregnancy. The other was obviously not the person he was to meet with, as the witch was sitting in the center of the room wearing a bright green feather boa, which snapped at Draco as he walked past.

“Psst. Over here,” a voice whispered to him from his left. Draco stopped in his tracks and peered into the darkness. He had overlooked this spot for it was so dark, and he had not expected a table to be located there.

Flinging himself into the seat, Draco waited for the other person to begin. After all, it was they who invited me, he thought silently.

“Mr. Malfoy, how very good of you to join me.” The voice was low, wispy; Draco could not tell if it was a man or woman who spoke.

“How did you know it was me?” Draco asked suspiciously.

The figure chuckled, its laugh sounded a bit squeaky. “Who else vood be valking into The Leaky Cauldron vith a desire not to be recognized? The voice whispered. “Besides, you haff a look about you; you haff your father’s chin.”

“Spare me the compliments; you said you have information for my father.”

“Vell, now,” was the response. It sounded...amused. “Very much like the father; to the point, no?”

“I’m not here to play games,” Draco spat. “Tell me what you know.”

A sigh followed this. “All right then. Tell your father everything is in order. His friend, K, vill see him in thirty days.”

“What?” Draco asked, confused. “Why couldn’t you tell him that yourself?”

The figure leaned forward slightly and Draco could smell stale pipe smoke. “If I could,” came the slow, annoyed reply, “I vould haff no need for you.”

Draco’s mind reeled; he would have to visit his father in Azkaban? Well, obviously, you nit, a small voice scolded. It’s not as though he were staying in a posh hotel where you could send him a ruddy owl.

“Fine; I’ll give him your bloody message,” Draco uttered contemptuously.

“That’s a good boy,” the figured told him; the whispiness in the voice gone; it was definitely a man Draco was speaking to. “Now, if you don’t mind... get up. I haff meeting vith another ‘friend’ shortly.”

Draco didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled out of the chair and away from the darkened corner, the message repeating over and over in his mind. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice when he bumped into a frizzy-haired girl entering the pub, followed by her tall redheaded friend, and a boy with green eyes, round glasses, and a lightning scar.

At 9:59 on the morning of September 1, Hermione was passing through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. She allowed her trolley to be taken away, so that her trunks could be placed aboard the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione looked around at the empty platform. Steam billowed gracefully from the train, and porters bustled about, tidying the walkway or straightening benches. She was obviously the first Hogwarts student to arrive on Platform 9-3/4, so Hermione took this moment to step onto the train and ask where the Head Students' compartment was located.

When she pushed open the door to the quarters, she noticed Crookshanks was already asleep on the seat, his ginger hair glowing in the sunlight that filtered through the window.

Smiling at this scene, she removed her badge from her pocket and pinned it to the robe hanging from a hook in the corner of the spacious compartment. Hermione planned on donning the robe when the train left the station. In the meantime, she would wait on the platform to greet the arriving students.

She stepped off the train and saw three students with their parents. One was Justin Finch-Fletchley and the the other two were the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis. Colin waved heartily at her, and she stepped over to greet him. He and his brother were excited when they learned she was Head Girl.

Next came the Patil sisters, Padma and Parvati, Hannah Abott, and Susan Bones. All four greeted her warmly before heading onto the train.

Before long, the platform was filled with students and parents, all milling about or calling salutations to one another. Many were catching up on events that occurred over the summer and still others were trying not to cry as they boarded the train. Hermione knew these students were first years, so she tried to cheer them as best as she could, for she knew what it was like being new, scared, and going into the unknown.

When the Weasleys arrived with Ginny, Ron, and Harry in tow, Hermione immediately rushed over to her friends. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny began relaying to Hermione the latest escapades of Percy, Charlie, and Bill, and Harry and Ron had joined Mr. Weasley in a conversation about Quidditch with Neville Longbottom and his grandmother.

"But Arthur, the Kenmare Kestrals haven't won a single game this year!" Neville's grandmother was screeching. "What makes you think they’re headed for the Quidditch World Cup?"

"I have great faith in them," Mr. Weasley nodded solemnly. "Besides, dear woman, they have a new Seeker. She transferred from Pride of Portree."

"Tsk-tsk," the old woman shook her head. "That girl? She's pretty, but bloody stupid. She couldn't tell the difference between a snitch and a quaffle!"

"Now, Gran," Neville said, "She's not that bad."

"That’s no surprise coming from you," his grandmother shot back, "as her photos are plastered all over your bedroom wall!" Ron and Harry laughed as Neville's face turned red.

"So, Hermione," Ginny asked, "have you seen the Head Boy yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I haven't, now that you mention it." She crossed her arms. "Professor McGonagall wanted me to be here at ten o'clock sharp..."

"Which means you were here at 9:59," Ron interjected. Hermione blushed and Ron laughed. She shot him a nasty look; Ron laughed even harder.

"So I am guessing the Head Boy was supposed to be at that time also,"
she finished with a shrug. "But, no, I haven't seen him."

"Maybe he’s already on the train?" Harry suggested. "He could have walked right past you, and you didn't see him."

"True." Hermione agreed. She decided to change the subject; turning to Neville, she said: "I read some great books about Quidditch over the break. Did you know that the 'Transylvanian Tackle' was first seen at the World Cup of 1473?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. Here we go again. Starting early, aren't you, Hermione?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered pushing past a couple of third year Ravenclaws. He was late, very late. He should have been at Platform 9-3/4 nearly a half hour ago, but that couldn't be helped.

His mother had wanted to see him off, but as she was still too drunk to even stand properly, Draco had advised against the suggestion. Narcissa had screamed at him, but he was adamant; he would leave for the Hogwarts Express alone.

It took Draco a full ten minutes to peel his mother off of his arm. She had gripped him so tightly that she actually left fingernail marks. "I just want to see my baby off to Hogwarts for the last time," she’d cried. Draco had gritted his teeth. His mother almost never referred to him in that way, and she certainly never came with him and his father when it was time to leave for school.

Narcissa pouted and whined like a petulant child, but Draco knew it was just a result from the alcohol. When he left the manor, his last glimpse of his mother was of her thin body crumpled on the entrance hall floor, her face in her hands, being comforted by a house-elf.

Shaking the image from his head, Draco strode towards the train. He saw many students moving about, and easily spotted Crabbe and Goyle, as they were the largest and tallest students in the bunch. He tilted his chin up in greeting. In response, the two boys began pushing students out of the way, clearing a path to get to Draco.

"Hey, Draco," Crabbe grunted. Goyle nodded his head.

"Crabbe, Goyle," Draco responded looking from one boy to the next.

"How was your summer?" Crabbe asked.

Draco’s upper lip curled briefly. "Wonderful," he retorted sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah? Well, so was mine," Goyle replied, completely missing the tone in Draco's reply. "My dad and I went to the St. Mungo's Charity Quidditch Match in Mexico."

"Really?" Draco's eyebrow shot up. "Do you even know where Mexico is?"

Goyle looked confused. "Huh?"

"Never mind," Draco snorted. It seemed Goyle hadn't changed much over the summer break. He decided to change the subject.,"Dumbledore made me Head Boy."

His two hulking friends congratulated him and joked a bit about how Draco's new status would be great for Slytherin. As Crabbe and Goyle went on, Draco let his mind wander. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione Granger greeting the Weasleys and Harry Potter. He snorted quietly.

At least I'll have a compartment away from those three, he thought to himself. The stench from Granger and Weasley alone might kill me.

Draco interrupted Crabbe and Goyle to inform them that he needed to find his compartment. In reality, he wanted to find that Borgin girl and give her her sodding gift. Why Mr. Borgin didn’t just use the bloody Owl Post was beyond Draco, but at least this was now a good way to have a few moments alone.

As he walked away, he felt a sense of relief; the two larger Slytherins were somewhat boring him, and he was glad he'd found an excuse to get away.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"ALL ABOARD!"

The conductor was calling for all Hogwarts students to board the train. Hermione left Harry, Ginny, and Ron, promising to check in on them later. She scurried aboard the train, getting elbowed in the process by Pansy Parkinson. The taller Slytherin girl smirked at Hermione, before stepping on Hermione's foot as she passed. In response, Hermione pulled her wand out, pointed it at Pansy and muttered "Audius Lepus".

Suddenly, laughter interrupted from the crowd of students waiting to board. The Slytherin girl behind Pansy hissed "Your ears!". Confused, Pansy put a hand to one ear. She promptly shrieked and tore off into a nearby compartment, but not before the hysterical crowd got a very good look at her furry, brown rabbit ears.

Still smiling, Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express. She caught a glimpse of several students crowding around something in the passageway, so she went to investigate. The crowd parted to reveal Crookshanks, who was allowing himself to be petted.

"Oh, what a sweet kitty!" One Ravenclaw girl exclaimed.

"Yeah," another boy replied, "but he’s still really ugly. Look at his face!"

Hermione glared at the boy and took Crookshanks into her arms. The students dispersed, leaving the Head Girl alone with her cat.

"You naughty boy!" She scolded. "What are you doing out of my quarters? Better still: how did you get out?"

Crookshanks purred in reply, sounding much like a motor.

"Your little secret, huh?" Hermione smirked, trying not to laugh. Feeling a bit exasperated, she made her way down to her compartment, intending to find out how her cat could have gotten out into the hall.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I see she’s already been here," Draco muttered, as he sat down on one of the seats in the Head Students' quarters. A black robe with the Head Girl badge hung neatly in the corner.

Well, whoever she is, she's not very responsible, Draco thought snidely. Left the door open for anyone. Someone could have taken something. Not that he really cared. If the new Head Girl wanted her belongings stolen, that was none of his business.

The door opened again. Draco smoothed his white-blonde locks back and stood up, ready to greet the Head Girl, hoping to charm her socks off.

But the person who came through the door was not whom he was expecting.

Hermione Granger and her ugly cat loomed in the doorway. She was giving him a rather quizzical look.

"What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" She asked, her voice full of contempt. "This compartment is reserved for Head Boy and Girl. Get out."

"Well, then maybe I ought to tell you the same thing," Draco shot back.

"What?" Hermione cried, releasing Crookshanks onto one of the seats. "You’re crazy. I'msupposed to be here! You're not. So please leave, before I hex you."

It took a moment for Draco to understand the situation. "Bloody, sodding hell!" He groaned, when it hit him. "Damn!"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Just what is your problem, Malfoy?"

Draco paused before answering. He wanted to make this good; he wanted to remember the look on Granger's face for the rest of his life when he uttered the following words:

"I'm Head Boy."

Seated at the Gryffindor table after the supper in the Great Hall, Ron, Harry, and Ginny looked at Hermione with mirror expressions of pity. At first, Ron had laughed when Hermione had told them that Draco Malfoy was Head Boy, but when the brown haired girl didn't smile, Ron's demeanor changed. He wanted to punch Malfoy, but Hermione reasoned it wasn't Malfoy's fault that Dumbledore made him Head Boy.

Ginny tried to cheer her up by suggesting she charm his shampoo to become blue hair dye. Hermione smiled a tiny bit at this, but shook her head; she didn't want go near Malfoy, let alone his belongings.

"How am I going to get through the school year knowing that I have to see Malfoy nearly every waking moment?" Hermione moaned. "It's just not fair, that's what it is."

"Perhaps you can sleep in the library?" Ron suggested. Harry snorted, spraying Neville, who was seated across from him, with pumpkin juice. Ginny punched Ron on the arm and gave Harry a disapproving look.

"Don’t be stupid," Ginny said to her brother, handing Neville a napkin. "Madame Pince would never allow it."

"Why not?" Ron asked, rubbing his arm. "Hermione's in there all the time anyway."

Ginny looked like she wanted to say something, but kept her mouth closed. Instead she turned to Neville and began talking to him about Herbology and Mrs. Sprout. Neville's face lit up; he excelled in that class, and was delighted to talk about it.

Hermione opened her Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7 and began reading. She needed to take her mind off of this awful situation. She was not looking forward to tomorrow evening, when she had to make the required rounds before heading off to bed. She and Malfoy had to roam the halls for two hours tonight...together.

Professor McGonagall was adamant about this. "For the first week, starting tomorrow evening, you two will be required to patrol the halls together for out-of-bed students. After you are comfortable with making the rounds as a pair, you can choose to split up, but that is entirely up to you. Both of you, however, must return to your dorms by eleven o'clock each evening," she had told them, when they reported to her upon arrival that afternoon.

Malfoy had looked as though Professor McGonagall wanted him to swallow poison. Hermione had stood there, numb. Two hours...with Malfoy? Professor McGonagall was asking for a miracle.

Malfoy hadn't uttered a word to her since revealing himself as the Head Boy. He smiled an awful lot during the train ride, even as he swept past her in the passageway between the compartments. She'd also heard Pansy Parkinson laughing after Malfoy found her, apparently bent on telling her his news.

Hermione wished that anyone else...even Crabbe or Goyle...had been made Head Boy. Malfoy was a pest, an insufferable sod who would get under her skin. He would torment her and call her names until she couldn't stand it any longer.

She wondered how long it would take before she'd have to hex him?

~*~*~*~*~*~

"What's the first thing you're going to do to her?" Pansy Parkinson asked Draco, as she, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were seated at the Slytherin Table in the Great Hall. Pansy had practically beat it out of him on the train ride to Hogwarts to reveal the new Head Girl's name. At first, Pansy tried crying, but when that didn't work, she resorted to wheedling.

Annoyed, Draco just blurted out Granger's name...anything to shut the blasted girl up. In response, Pansy had collapsed into a fit of giggles, and began plotting ways for Draco to make Granger mad.

Some of the ideas Pansy had were stupid; he certainly wasn't going to go into Granger's room and put a freezing charm on her underthings! Although, he thought silently, I wonder what kind of things she does wear under that uniform? Wouldn't it be just like Granger to wear woolly long-johns? A laugh escaped his lips, and Pansy, Goyle, and Crabbe looked at him oddly.

He realized Pansy had repeated her question; he thought quickly and said, "I'll charm her hairbrush to make her hair fall out."

Pansy shrieked with laughter. Goyle turned to Draco and asked, "Does she even own a brush?" Draco had to admit that was funny, even if it did come from Goyle.

He looked over at Granger sitting with the Weasleys, Potter, and Longbottom; she looked miserable. Good, he said to himself with a satisfied smirk, the Mudblood is probably worried that I'm going to do something. He knew he would, but Granger was smart; he'd have to catch her off-guard somehow, and Draco knew that wouldn't be easy. Besides, he didn't want to be stripped of his title as Head Boy on the first day!

Just take your time, he told himself. Make her worry until she can't take it anymore. All you'll have to do is breathe on her, and she'll fall right over the edge.

Draco smiled; being Head Boy was going to be fun!

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, classes began. Hermione was thankful that she and Draco didn't have to start their patrols until this evening, and was even more grateful--though she would never admit this--to Draco for not once bothering her last night. He simply went to his room that evening after supper and closed the door.

The Gryffindors had to endure a few classes with the Slytherins. The first was Charms. When Professor Flitwick had asked them to perform a basic summoning charm at the very beginning of the class, to review their basic knowledge of the spell, Harry and Ginny had gotten it on their very first try. Both had charmed their school bags to zoom across the room to land at their feet. Ron was more successful on his second turn, as was Neville, who was so thrilled, that he accidentally tripped over Harry's bag.

Hermione, however, was a great disappointment. She raised her wand three times and called "Accio Bag", but instead of getting her school bag, she'd gotten Professor Flitwick's hat, Parvati Patil's left shoe, and Trevor, Neville's toad. The Gryffindors were looking at Hermione with something close to horror. What was wrong with Hogwarts' cleverest witch?

Only Malfoy and the Slytherins were in hysterics; it was rather funny to see Granger so flustered. When Professor Flitwick asked Hermione if she was all right and if she wanted someone to help her, Malfoy immediately called out that he would be glad to do so. Hermione had barely let a second pass before she screeched "NO! I mean, no, thanks!" The Slytherins laughed, and Hermione went red; she didn't want to be anywhere near Draco before she had to.

Potions was no better. Malfoy sat as close as possible to Hermione, and he spoke so loudly that he made her jump, knocking over the cauldron she'd had a Deflating Draft brewing in. Snape took fifteen points from Gryffindor for that, and made Hermione clean it all up. Harry and Ron looked ready to commit murder, but couldn't help their friend, for Snape had taken to glaring at them all, and no one wanted to risk losing Gryffindor anymore points.

After Potions, Hermione ran all the way to the library and hid behind a huge stack of books while she cried her eyes out. This year was supposed to be wonderful, she commiserated quietly. Why did Malfoy have to go and screw it up?

To be fair, she inwardly admitted Malfoy wasn't entirely at fault, but he was doing his best to make her miserable, and it was only the first day of classes. What would he be like later on in the evening...or the rest of the year, for that matter? Would she be able to handle the constant mental assault from Malfoy?

She hoped to Merlin she could.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco was having a lovely day; Granger was seeing to that. He smiled to himself, knowing that he was the cause of her problems. If this is how she is today, Draco thought, who knows what she'll be like tomorrow or next week? Draco silently wagered it would be a week before Granger snapped and asked McGonagall to have the Headmaster choose another Head Girl.

He'd gone back to the Heads' Common Room and was relaxing for a bit before having to make his rounds with Granger. He looked at the door that lead to her room, and wondered what he would find there, if he were to go inside. She probably had books and more books and that stupid, ugly cat laying all over the place.

Draco wondered if a bookworm like Hermione even owned a mirror.

At that moment, a blur of color came flying at him. He jumped out of the chair, not knowing what it was. When he calmed his nerves and straightened his clothes, Draco looked at the spot where he'd been sitting; he saw Granger' ginger cat there, looking at him.

"What?" He asked Crookshanks snidely. "Don't tell me...you knew I was thinking about the Mudblood who keeps you."

Crookshanks continued to stare at Draco, to the point where Draco had to look away. He had the strangest sensation that the cat was trying to look beyond Draco's cold, bored exterior, into the real person he kept hidden deep inside.

"Stop that!" Draco said loudly. It was ridiculous, this cat making him feel this way. No animal can really do that, he thought stubbornly. But as a precaution, he went to his room and shut the door.

Hermione walked into the Common Room fifteen minutes later, and saw Crookshanks. "What are you doing?" She asked, not really expecting an answer. Hermione then noticed her cat staring at Malfoy's door. "What? Is he in there?" Crookshanks looked back at Hermione and blinked once.

"Hmm," Hermione said aloud. "I'll bet he’s planning on how to get me good this evening, isn't he? I guess I should beat him at his own game, shouldn't I, Crookshanks?" When the cat said nothing, Hermione walked over to Malfoy's door, pulled out her wand and murmured "Colloportus". The door sealed itself with a small sucking noise, like that of the vacuum her mother used at home. Satisfied, Hermione walked away, blowing on the end of her wand. "There," she said aloud. "That ought to take care of Mister Malfoy for a little while."

When Crookshanks made a noise that sounded a bit like disapproval, Hermione shrugged. "I know, I know; I shouldn't have. But he deserved it, Crookshanks, if only for being a prat! I'll let him out...eventually."

Draco glanced at the clock set upon a marble pedestal near his dormitory door; he'd been in his quarters for nearly an hour, doing absolutely nothing to pass the time except sleep and dream of ways to make Granger even more miserable.

Now it was time to make the evening rounds with her, and Draco wondered what they'd have to talk about--if they talked at all. Draco shuddered at the thought of having to speak to the Mudblood.

Not that I'd want to talk to Granger, Draco thought contemptibly, stretching his arms over his head and yawning widely. She'd just bore me to death with stories about books she's read or tales of Potty and Weasel. Even though they expected him to work with Granger, they couldn't force him to be civil. Perhaps he could just ignore her.

He rose from the high-backed, dark green chair near the fireplace, straightened his white shirt, and ran a hand through his hair. Better get this over with, Draco sighed inwardly, donning a black robe with his Head Boy badge pinned to the front. Perhaps I'll put a Silencing Charm on Granger to keep her from opening her trap.

Draco sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Granger to be waiting in the Common Room for him, her foot tapping impatiently. He grasped the knob and pulled--but nothing happened; the door didn't budge. That's odd, Draco frowned. I didn't lock this door.

He tried it again; he pulled, pushed, and even attempted to jiggle the knob, but nothing worked. What in the bloody hell is going on here? he wondered.

As though on cue, Draco heard a faint giggle drift into the room from the other side of the door. Curious, he flattened himself out on the carpet and peered into the Common Room through the space between the door and the floor. He watched in disbelief as a pair of black Mary Janes moved toward him, then suddenly stopped mere inches from his eye. They remained motionless for a few seconds, then moved away.

"Granger!" Draco hissed. "She wouldn't..."

Draco scrambled to his feet and tried the door again. He pulled the knob so strongly that the door crashed right into him. Rubbing his forehead, he glanced over to see the Common Room door close. "I'm going to kill her!" Draco muttered. "That filthy Mudblood locked me in my room!" What in the bloody blazes was she thinking?

Pulling out his wand, Draco ran through the Common Room and yanked open the door. Immediately he spotted Granger making her way down to the Entrance Hall.

"Granger!" Draco yelled, racing down the steps to catch up with her. "Get back here! I want to have a word with you!"

He saw Granger's chin go up defiantly. "I have nothing to say to you, Malfoy." She turned and continued walking quickly down the steps.

Draco's mouth dropped slightly. How dare that ugly witch walk away from him? "Well, I have something to say to you!" he hissed, moving with lightning speed toward her. Draco pointed his wand at Granger's back. He shouted a Trip Jinx and nearly laughed out loud when Granger, grasping at the air around her frantically, fell on her face with an ear-splitting shriek.

His mirth was short-lived, for the girl scrambled to her feet, whipped out her wand and cried "Petrificus Totalus!" Draco gasped as his arms and legs locked together and he rolled down the last five steps. As he lay there, Granger moved to stand next to him, blood trickling out of her nose. She wiped it away with her sleeve, smirked at him, then stepped on him as though he were a dirty rug. She continued on her way through the Entrance Hall, and Draco lost sight of Granger's frizzy head when she rounded the corner and disappeared.

After ten agonizing minutes, the spell wore off and Draco stumbled to his feet. Humiliated that a Mudblood had gotten the better of him, he swore he'd make her pay. No one insults a Malfoy, he thought angrily. He stalked off in the direction he'd seen Granger go.

He spotted her almost immediately; she was speaking to a couple of first years who appeared to be quite distressed. Draco, his eyes narrowing and an evil smile slowly spreading across his face, saw his chance; not only would he get Granger back, but he'd show those first years that Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts' Head Boy, was not to be crossed.

Slowly, Draco raised his wand...

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I understand you're new and not used the unfamiliar surroundings," Hermione smiled sympathetically at the two Hufflepuff boys in front of her. "But I must ask you to return to your Common Room. You don't have to go to bed," she told them when they'd begun to protest, "but you do have to remain there. You don't want Professor Snape to catch you out here; trust me on this." The pair stared at her in wide-eyed horror. Hermione couldn't help but grin; the mere mention of the surly, hooked-nose Potions Master gave almost everyone the chills.

Hermione patted them on their shoulders to turn them around, but they stood rooted to the spot, their faces frozen in fear and looking just beyond her. She realized, without looking, whom they were staring at: Malfoy.

With a deep sigh, Hermione slowly turned to face the Head Boy. She expected he was not happy with her, but she'd had no choice--he needed to be hexed. If he'd been civil and spoken to her like a human being, instead of shouting at her and spewing curses, then perhaps she would have apologized for locking him in his room.

No, Hermione thought grimly, her hand reaching into her robes for her wand, he wants to play this game.

Simultaneously, they fired off incantations. Jets of light flew everywhere, and the two first years shrieked and ran for cover.

"TAKE THAT, GRANGER!" Draco shouted, letting loose an Engorgement Charm. Hermione screamed, "EAT DIRT, MALFOY!" as she shot a Jelly-Legs Hex straight at him.

This continued for several minutes. Draco and Hermione were so focused on hexing one another that they did not see Professor McGonagall running down the hallway towards them, her graying tresses and red plaid robe streaming out behind her.

"STOP! STOP THIS AT ONCE!" She shrieked, her face almost as red as her nightgown. "BOTH OF YOU!"

When Hermione lowered her wand to look at Professor McGonagall, Draco saw his chance; he hexed Hermione one last time.

Professor McGonagall, sensing Hermione was going to attempt a retaliatory curse on Draco, whipped out her wand and stunned both of them. Before either could blink, Hogwarts' Head Girl and Boy, both covered in the others' hex marks, fell to the stone floor with a thud.

*~*~*~*~*

"IN ALL MY YEARS OF TEACHING AT THIS SCHOOL, I HAVE NEVER WITNESSED SUCH AN APPALLING DISPLAY BY OUR HEAD STUDENTS!" Professor McGonagall shouted at Hermione and Draco. Both students were seated in her office--having recovered from their hexes and the Stunning Spell the Deputy Headmistress placed on them.

Hermione was looking down at her hands. They would be expelled for sure, and it was all Malfoy's fault. If he hadn't tormented her with his smug attitude and close proximity, none of this would have transpired.

A tear slipped down her cheek. How would she explain this to her friends and family? It was not like Hermione at all to lose control like that. Everyone will be so disappointed, she thought sadly. What will I do?

"WHAT ON EARTH CAME OVER YOU?" Professor McGonagall was still hollering at them, her voice and color rising. "ONE HUNDRED POINTS EACH WILL BE DEDUCTED FROM YOUR HOUSES--IMMEDIATELY!"

Hermione gasped, jerking her head up to gape at the head of Gryffindor House. We don't even have one hundred points each to take away! she thought wildly. Hanging her head in shame, she imagined the reaction of the other Gryffindor when they discovered this. Hermione glanced over at Malfoy; he seemed to be staring at some point beyond Professor McGonagall's chair, his mouth set in a grim line and his jaw clamped tightly.

Professor McGonagall began pacing the room, continuously berating them regarding their "deplorable behavior". "I am sorely tempted to expel you for breaking school rules and it is within my right to do so. You have set a very poor example for the other students in this school. We now have two first year Hufflepuffs in Madame Pomfrey’s care because of tonight’s events!” she sighed heavily. “I do not know--nor do I care--what the problem is between you, but it needs to be resolved immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," both Malfoy and Hermione chorused miserably.

"I will be informing the Headmaster immediately and contacting your parents in the morning..." Professor McGonagall continued. Hermione's stomach plummeted; she heard Malfoy make a small noise and shift in his seat.

"Now, Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said briskly, striding back to her desk to sit down. "I have spoken to Professor Snape about this situation and he feels that whatever punishment I give you will be sufficient..."

Hermione snuck a glance at Malfoy; his mouth had dropped open. No doubt he was hoping to have Snape punish him, Hermione said to herself. Snape's always easy on the Slytherins. Professor Severus Snape was head of Slytherin House and tended to favor those students over the rest.

"Professor-." Malfoy began, but the Transfiguration teacher cut him off.

"Mister Malfoy, do not try my patience. If you speak without my permission again, I will take another one hundred points from Slytherin. Is that understood?"

Malfoy's nostrils flared, but he answered, once again, "Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now, I don't need to tell you how disappointed I am," Professor McGonagall went on, her voice still full of anger.

More tears slipped down Hermione’s face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy looking at her. She turned her face a mere fraction in his direction, but he whipped his gaze back to Professor McGonagall.

"Until I can sort all of this out, you will be serving detentions with Mr. Filch," Professor McGonagall told them.

Hermione gasped once again. Argus Filch, Hogwarts Caretaker, hated all the students and didn't hide the fact that he thought rule-breakers ought to be whipped. He nearly got his wish two years ago, when the monstrous Professor Umbridge had taken over Hogwarts.

When Ron's brother's, Fred and George, had gotten into trouble, Filch had been beside himself with glee. After all those years of 'ridiculous' punishments, he was able to give 'real' ones.

Filch's excitement was short-lived, however, for the Weasley twins left the school in a stunning display that many still talked about.

Filch was now entering the room with his constant companion, Mrs. Norris. The cat blinked its glowing eyes at Hermione, who shivered slightly. Filch smiled nastily at Hermione and then Malfoy, who didn't move a muscle.

"Well, now," Filch drawled, "what ever shall we do with these two?" Mrs. Norris meowed once and Filch looked down at her. "Perhaps, my sweet, perhaps..." he murmured.

Professor McGonagall folded her hands upon the desktop. "That is entirely up to you, Argus," she said tiredly. When Filch's eye lit up, she coughed discreetly and added, "Within reason, of course."

Filch's excitement died instantaneously and he gave a small growl. "Well, the dungeons need cleaning," he began and Hermione's eyes widened; Filch kept instruments of torture down there! She’d never set foot in the dungeons with Malfoy--she'd rather sit in a crate with a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"...the bathrooms, or scrub the fourth floor corridor," Filch was muttering. "The Trophy Room could use another clea--"

A voice interrupted the Caretaker. "I believe I have a suitable punishment." The four people in the room turned to see Professor Dumbledore, wearing a purple robe covered in silver stars, standing in the doorway.

"Albus?" Professor McGonagall queried, rising from her chair. "I didn't realize you were awake."

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I was apprised of the situation a short time ago," he said calmly, walking into the room. "So naturally, Minerva, I came to investigate."

"Headmaster," Filch began, "I am quite sure I can--"

Dumbledore held up one hand. "Argus, I have no doubt that you are quite capable of overseeing detentions for other students, but these two," he gestured to Hermione and Malfoy, "need something more; something they aren't likely to forget."

At this, Filch blinked mutely; his mouth set mulishly. He scooped up Mrs. Norris and nodded to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stopping only to glare at the seated students, then left the office, muttering, "Let's see what Peeves is up to, my sweet."

When the door closed behind Filch, Dumbledore spoke again. "It has come to my attention that our Head Boy and Girl came to blows, so to speak, in the first floor corridor." When no one spoke, he continued. "I realize there is a rather sour history between the two of you, but I had hoped," he peered a them over the top of his half-moon spectacles, "that you had grown out of that." Dumbledore sighed. "But, alas, I was wrong and now I must deal with my mistake."

Hermione couldn't contain herself; her hand shot straight up into the air. Dumbledore turned to her, a look of questioning on his bearded face.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You have something you wish to say?"

"Please, sir, don't expel us!" Hermione blurted out in a rush. Malfoy snapped his gaze to her face and Hermione saw something unreadable lurking behind his gray eyes.

Dumbledore, however, looked amused. He strolled around the edge of Professor McGonagall's desk. Minerva hastily vacated her seat for the Headmaster and he nodded his thanks before sitting down. "Expel you?" he asked. "Why ever would I do that?"

"But I thought..." Hermione's voice trailed off and she bit her lip. She decided not to continue, feeling foolish.

"My dear Miss Granger, it is late and no doubt you will want to get some sleep. I am going to allow you and Mister Malfoy to return to your rooms until the morning," Professor Dumbledore told her in a gentle voice. "However," he added, looking at them meaningfully, "I will be placing a charm on your doors to ensure tonight's events do not repeat themselves after we've all gone to bed." He nodded to Professor McGonagall.

Hermione and Malfoy stared mutely. Dumbledore gestured for them to rise, also getting to his feet. Once more, the Headmaster nodded to the Deputy Headmistress, then led the Head Boy and Girl to their Common Room.

Neither Malfoy nor Hermione made a sound as they followed Professor Dumbledore to the second floor corridor. Hermione's mind reeled. What is Dumbledore going to do to us? What could be worse than being expelled? She didn't have long to dwell on these thoughts, for they had approached the portrait leading to their Common Room.

A dark-haired woman in the picture smiled at the trio. "Headmaster," she purred, her gaze turning to Professor Dumbledore. "It is good to see you."

Dumbledore winked at the lady and called out "Butterbeer". Her smile broadened and the picture slid over to allow them entry.

Hermione and Malfoy muttered their goodnights to Professor Dumbledore and began moving towards their sleeping quarters. However, the Headmaster's voice made them halt in their tracks.

"I will be expecting the two of you in my office at eight o'clock in the morning; do not be late. We will discuss the terms of your punishment at that time. Pleasant dreams!"

Draco didn't sleep. He lay on the four-poster bed staring at the ceiling all through the night, thinking about the previous evening’s events. He grinned, knowing he got Granger good. The look on her face when she realized her ears had grown three times their normal size...

She’d returned the favor, screeching "Densaugeo!", and Draco, turning his wand to his nose, had to shout out "Reducto!" whilst trying to dodge a Freezing Charm that had been thrown at him.

They'd gone through a number of hexes and charms before McGonagall's Stunning Spell took them both down, yet Draco couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment; he'd dueled Hogwarts' cleverest witch!

He shifted slightly and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw something moving near his window. The curtain was drawn back to reveal a house-elf dressed in a simple red-checked cloth donned like a toga.

Draco watched in silence as the creature laid out his clothes, stoked the embers in the fireplace, and spot-dusted all the surfaces in the room.

As his eyes followed the house-elf's progress, Draco couldn't help but wonder how it had gotten into the room. After Dumbledore had sealed his door, Draco tried all he knew to open it--just to see if he could break the spell. Unfortunately, nothing worked, not even "Alohomora".

Not that Draco actually expected any spell to succeed. Dumbledore wasn't going to place a simple charm on the door if Draco could break it. He wondered if Granger had had the same problem. Of course not, he scoffed silently. Miss Prim probably went right to bed like an obedient dog.

Draco chuckled, causing the house-elf to look directly at him, gasp, and then disappear. Stupid, filthy creature, he thought disgustedly. But this made him grin; he thought back to last evening, when Granger had looked a bit like the house-elf after McGonagall had stunned her.

She was so shocked, Draco thought with a laugh. The idiot Mudblood probably couldn't believe McGonagall had had the guts to do that.

"But she defended you..." a very tiny, almost inaudible voice in his head whispered. "She pleaded with Dumbledore not to expel both of you."

"No," Draco said aloud, getting out of bed. "Granger was just trying to save her own skin. She only said 'us' to make herself look good."

"Liar." The voice sounded amused. "Don't deny it. You saw her face."

Granger's tear-streaked face sprang unbidden into his mind's eye. He shook his head to clear the image. "She was bloody faking," he growled. "Granger's a girl--or at least I think she is--therefore like all the others: she uses me to get ahead."

"You don't mean that..."

"Shut up," Draco muttered. His conscience was really getting on his nerves.

He walked over to the window. The sun was just coming up over the mountains surrounding the lake, and the giant squid was gliding lazily across the surface. Despite all attempts to focus on the squid, Draco's thoughts strayed back to Hermione Granger.

She did look rather upset, he said to himself. Perhaps Granger was really crying. Was she that worried she'd be expelled? Draco knew he'd been nervous. It wasn't the fact that he'd have to explain the circumstances to his mother; he could handle Narcissa. It was Lucius' reaction that bothered him most.

His father had already proven his displeasure when Draco, having visited Azkaban only days before, had informed him that Hermione Granger was the Head Girl.

His father had looked confused. "Granger..." he'd muttered. "The name sounds famil--" he stopped short, his eyes widening in recognition. "The Mudblood?" he'd hissed. "Of course," he’d sneered, "this is Albus Dumbledore's doing, the Champion of Mudbloods and Muggles." Lucius had pressed his face and body up against the bars. Instinctively, Draco had moved closer.

"Draco, listen to me," his father breathed, clutching at his son's coat. "Avoid that filth; she is beneath you. Don't let her fill your head with her ridiculous ideas. You are a Malfoy; do not be fooled by a Mudblood."

Draco turned away from the window. He understood perfectly; Granger may be Head Girl, but she was still lowly and disgusting; unfit to gain his trust. He wouldn’t give another thought to her or her tears.

A sudden sharp knock on his door brought him back to attention. “Malfoy?” It was the insufferable Granger. How in the bloody hell did she get out of her room? he wondered, glancing over at the clock; it was seven-thirty. Almost time to meet my doom, Draco thought snidely. What sort of punishment could Dumbledore possibly give to me? The Dark Forest no longer scared him and Draco had seen or done enough things over the last two summers that would probably straighten Granger's hair.

"Malfoy? Are you awake?" Granger sounded annoyed. Draco strode over to the door. "What do you want?" He snapped, knowing full well what her response would be.

"You can open the door, Malfoy," her muffled voice shot back. "The spell wore off at seven o'clock."

Draco yanked open the door to find Granger inches away, staring up at him with her large brown eyes. "Oh!" she exclaimed, taking in his disheveled appearance. Hastily, she stepped back and said, "We need to meet with the Headmaster shortly."

"Tell me something I don't know, Mudblood," Draco snapped, but felt a slight pang at the stricken look on Granger's face.

"Obligation..."

There it was again; that voice.

With a growl, Draco scooped up his fresh clothes and headed for his bathroom beyond the doorway between the window and the fireplace. He changed quickly then stepped out into the Common Room. He didn't meet Granger's questioning gaze; Draco simply strode over to the portrait hole and went out into the corridor.

Granger had to run to catch up with him. "We're supposed to go together Malfoy," she informed him haughtily, slightly out of breath.

"Whatever, Granger," he replied sullenly.

"What do you think he's going to say?" Granger blurted out; it was obvious she was nervous.

Draco stopped in his tracks so suddenly that Granger bumped right into him. He spun around to face her. "Look, Granger, I don't want to speak to you any more than you want to speak to me. Let's just get this over with so we can go our separate ways. Understood?"

The Head Girl stared at him blankly, then tossed her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Fine," she replied shortly. "So sorry for trying to be civil."

"Don't bother." Draco and Granger continued moving along the corridor until they reached the statue that guarded the steps to Dumbledore's office. "Licorice Whips," Draco muttered and the statue moved to reveal a set of stone steps, which the two students quickly climbed up to reach the Headmaster's office.

Draco lifted his hand to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could make contact, a voice called out, "Enter!"

The heavy wooden door swung open on its own and Draco stepped into the circular room, followed closely by Granger. Portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses lined the walls and all appeared to be sleeping.

Moving further into the room, they noticed Professor Dumbledore standing at his desk, pouring steaming liquid from a shiny round teapot into two dainty teacups.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled, setting the teapot down. "How good of you to join me."

It's not like we had a choice, Draco said inwardly.

"You have a choice, Mister Malfoy." Dumbledore’s voice cut into the blonde boy’s thoughts.

Draco's eyes widened. "What?" he asked suspiciously. "Did you just--?"

Dumbledore was holding up a sugar cube. "One lump or two?"

Draco faltered. "Um...two. Two, please."

The Headmaster turned to Hermione, who nodded and said, "Two also, thank you." He then dropped the requested amounts into the teacups, then handed them to the Head boy and Girl.

As they sipped their tea, Dumbledore moved to sit behind his desk. He folded his hands upon the surface and peered at them over his glasses. "I'm not going to ask you if you know why you are here," he began, "as it's not likely you've forgotten recent events. With that said," he sighed, "let us discuss the terms of your punishment."

He waited until Draco and Hermione finished their drinks, then spoke again. "I must say that the two of you are unusually quiet this morning. Is there something amiss? The tea, perhaps?"

Draco looked at the girl seated next to him. When she did not speak, he decided he ought to. "Headmaster," he began tentatively, "we... appreciate the small talk, but if you would please just tell us what you've chosen for our punishment, we can be on our way."

Dumbledore's eyebrow shot up. "Mister Malfoy," he replied slowly, as one would when talking to a small child, "I chose Miss Granger and yourself as Head Girl and Boy for the sole purpose of bringing together your Houses. Gryffindor and Slytherin have never been further apart than they are now and both Houses look to the two of you to lead them." Here, he paused, looking at the two meaningfully. "Taking your badges or expelling the two of you will defeat that purpose."

The two students were silent, unsure of what to say.

"Might I give you a bit a advice?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "Sometimes the best lessons are learned not through books, but through friendship."

“Excuse me, sir,” Draco said pointedly, “but I’d rather not be friends with her.”

Hermione glared at the offious Head Boy and huffed loudly, crossing her arms; Draco wasn’t sure if she was agreeing--or was offended.

Wordlessly, Dumbledore stood up and extended his arms. “I apologize for any discomfort this will cause,” he murmured, “but I believe this to be the only solution.”

Before Hermione and Draco could register what was happening, the Headmaster swept his hands together and called out, "Constrictio."

A sudden heated feeling ran through the pair. Draco pulled at his collar and mechanically shot to his feet. "What in the...?" he muttered, staring down at his legs. I didn’t want to stand up! He looked wildly about and noticed Granger moving closer and closer. She looked as though she were struggling with an unseen force. It was then that Draco realized he was helping close the gap between them!

"Sir!" Draco cried out, trying to remain calm. "What's happening to--?"

Before his sentence was complete, however, he and Granger were standing hip-to-hip; they were so close that Draco could see gold flecks in Granger's brown eyes and a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose. There was also a hint of jasmine about her--something he hadn't noticed earlier. Appalled, he tried to turn away, but was greeted with a yelp from the Head Girl.

"OUCH! Let go, Malfoy!" she cried.

"I can't, Granger!" he bit out. "I think I'm caught on your robe!"

"That's impossible!" Granger snapped, trying to pull away, but only succeeded in dragging Draco with her. They would have fallen down if he hadn't grabbed the chair Granger had just vacated.

Realization struck the Head Girl and she gasped, "We're stuck together!" Her wild-eyed gaze moved from Draco to the Headmaster; she looked ready to burst into tears. "Professor Dumbledore? Why have you done this? This--this isn't fair!"

After watching this highly amusing display, Dumbledore finally spoke. "Yes, Miss Granger," he told her, his eyes twinkling, "I agree; it’s not fair at all However, this is your punishment. I guarantee that you won’t be together for too long--”

"How long will that be?" Draco interrupted snidely. This can't be happening... he groaned inwardly.

The Headmaster's amused expression did not fade. "For as long as necessary, Mister Malfoy. Until then, the two of you are stuck together."

Draco stared at Granger in horror, the expression on her face mirroring his own.

"Oh, damn," Granger muttered under her breath.

Draco snorted in disgust. "My thoughts exactly."

"This can't be happening; this can't be happening," Malfoy was muttering, as though repeating the words would make things true. However, it was just the opposite; he and Hermione were bound together by magic and nothing, it seemed, could separate them. This was a direct result of Hogwarts’ Headmaster putting them together as punishment for dueling in the corridors the previous night.

At the moment, the pair stood outside Dumbledore's office, trying, without much success, to learn how to walk normally.

Draco insisted on leading, nearly dragging Hermione along. In retaliation, she dug in her heels, causing Malfoy to stumble and both to fall headlong into the floor.

"Why must you do that?" Malfoy asked, outraged, struggling to rise to his feet for the third time. "Stop being so damned mulish!"

"Mulish!" Hermione cried. "If anyone's being bloody mule, it's you! Why do you have to lead?"

"I'm a Malfoy,” Draco replied simply, as though that ought to explain things, "and Malfoy's are born leaders."

"Famous words from the son of a follower!" Hermione shot back.

"Shut your mouth, Granger," Draco snapped. "You're just a filthy little nobody who can't mind her own business!"

Talking seemed to be physically painful for Malfoy; each syllable that left Hermione's mouth caused Draco to flinch. This did not deter Hermione. I'm going to do this, even if it kills me, she told herself, trying to pretend that being stuck to Malfoy was just another hour in Potions class. Deep down she knew this was more serious, but taking an open-minded approach seemed to be the only way she could feel in control.

"This is just like a Muggle game I played when I was six years old," she began aloud, forcing herself to remain calm. "It's called 'The Three-Legged Race'."

Malfoy looked at her, annoyed. "Granger, this is no game."

"I know that, Malfoy," Hermione scoffed. "Would it kill you to just listen for once?" Draco opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off. "Forget I said that."

He stared at her woodenly, but did not make any remarks. Hermione decided to plunge ahead. "In a 'Three-Legged Race', two people stand together, with one leg and foot touching. Those appendages are then bound together with a scarf or something similar. Then the duo must run really fast towards a finish line on, er, three legs."

Draco stared at Hermione as though she’d suddenly grown three legs. "That sounds ridiculous!" he spat. "Who in their right mind would voluntarily tie themselves to another person?" Hermione tried to reply, but Draco was not finished. "Oh, I forgot--only Muggles and Mudbloods. It’s a wonder your kind isn’t extinct."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You should try it before you criticize."

With a hollow laugh, Draco replied, "Might I point out, Granger, that I am doing just that and not by choice. Besides," he continued, "I would never play a pathetic Muggle game."

"You're such a snob, Malfoy," Hermione retorted.

Draco glared at her contemptuously. "I'm not a snob, Granger. I just have high standards; though you'd know nothing about that."

Again, Hermione rolled her eyes, but she said nothing.

"What's this?" Draco's expression now feigned shock. "No witty retort? Goodness! What's come over you?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. She would not let Malfoy get under her skin again, so she politely suggested that they "at least try" walking together or they would only succeed in falling with style.

A synchronized stride was not easily achieved; Draco loudly complained at every turn. Hermione nearly gnashed her teeth down to little stubs--something her dentist parents would not have liked to see.

They continually paced the Headmaster's corridor, ignoring the odd looks from Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Trelawney. The teachers were not a problem; it was facing the other students that had them worried.

Hermione could hear Draco muttering "right, left, right, left," under his breath. She tried not to laugh out loud. Instead, she casually asked him if he frequently spoke to himself.

"No, I do not!" Draco snapped, outraged. Then he sighed loudly. "You know what bothers me about this?"

Was he was actually confiding in her? Hermione couldn't believe it. "Besides being stuck with me?" she asked flatly.

"What in the bloody hell will our friends say about this?" Draco said in a low voice, apparently not hearing, or ignoring, Hermione's sarcastic remark.

Her eyebrow shot up. "You have friends?"

"This is vastly amusing to you, isn't it Granger?" Draco scowled at her.

"Right, Malfoy," Hermione replied with a hint of sarcasm, sounding much like Harry. "Being stuck to you is loads of fun." They glared at each other in annoyance.

Draco broke the silence. "Was Dumbledore allowed to do this?"

"We could have gotten expelled!" Hermione informed him, as though it were the worst thing in the world. "Would you like to go back and tell him, 'Oh, no, Headmaster, being stuck to the "Mudblood" is just too awful. Please, please, please expel me!'?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"You're stupid, Malfoy," Hermione retorted exasperatedly.

"Well, you know what, Granger?" Draco said glaring at her. "This is no trip to Hogsmeade for me. Do you have any idea how this will look?"

"Why do you care?" Hermione said loudly. "You're a Malfoy, therefore completely devoid of feelings!"

There was a moment of strained silence as Draco's gray eyes bore into hers. "You don't know how wrong you are."

Feeling uncomfortable under his penetrating stare, Hermione looked away. "Professor Dumbledore said there was a way to become unstuck; we just have to figure out what it is."

This time, Draco's eyebrow shot up. "Maybe the answer is in one of those damned books you've always got your nose in."

So much for being civil, Hermione thought dryly. Out loud she said, "Are you thick? This spell was done without a wand! Wand-less magic is impossible to break! I don't believe there's a counter-spell in any book." She paused, putting a hand to her growling stomach. "I'm hungry. We should head down to the Great Hall for breakfast before classes start."

Draco said nothing, but his face turned ashen.

"We can't hide up here forever, Malfoy," Hermione reminded him gently. "We should try to go about our business."

Draco turned his steely gaze on Hermione once again. "How do propose we do that, Granger?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We have just two classes together and we're joined at the hip. Have you got any other bright ideas in that frizzy head of yours?"

Hermione said nothing, suddenly feeling very sad and not knowing why.

"Ah-ha!" Draco crowed triumphantly. "The mighty Granger is stumped!"

"I hate you, Malfoy," She retorted scathingly, pushing aside the odd sensation she’d been feeling. "Did you know that?"

"So you've told me," Draco replied with a snicker, "on more than one occasion."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The arrival of the Head Boy and Girl to the Great Hall that morning was cause for much speculation. When Hermione and Draco appeared in the doorway, all conversations ceased; news of the disastrous events the previous evening had clearly been spread about. Draco turned a brilliant shade of red as all eyes swung toward them.

Ron and Harry slowly rose from their seats, looking quite ridiculous with their identical expressions of shock. Draco would have laughed and called out a remark if he hadn't been a bizarre position himself.

"Come on," Hermione said under her breath. She began to walk forward, but Draco didn't move. Several students laughed uneasily as Hermione whipped her head around to give Draco a 'what-are-you-waiting-for?' look.

I can't do this; I can't do this, Draco's mind raced. I can't be seen like this--stuck to Granger; it's too humiliating. My father would be appalled.

"Draco?" Hermione waved her hand in front of his face. Draco snapped to attention, surprised that Granger had actually called him by his given name.

He looked beyond her to see many students now standing; it seemed everyone wanted to get a glimpse of the drama in the doorway. Draco noted that Dumbledore has also risen and was peering at them in apprehensive concern.

Are you wondering now if this was such a good idea? Draco shouted silently. It bloody well isn't! I hate it and I hate you for doing this!

Dumbledore looked at Draco momentarily, then sat back down, turning to Professor McGonagall. Draco could've sworn that the Headmaster had actually smiled at him!

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Hermione demanded. "I'm starving and I want to get something to eat. I plan on going to the library before classes start. I want to finish up on my report about Horneophyton plant for Professor Sprout."

"And just how will you get there if I refuse to go?" Draco wondered sarcastically.

"You're evil, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "So I've been told."

"Let's just go, please?" Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

Draco shot her a look of pure venom. "I will not subject myself to utter humiliation."

Hermione made a noise that sounded much like a snort. "You can dish it out, Malfoy, but you can't take it--is that right?"

"This is different," Draco insisted stubbornly, knowing he sounded like a petulant child but not caring one iota.

Before Hermione had a chance to answer, Ginny, Ron, and Harry had appeared. Draco glanced over at the Slytherin table just in time to see Crabbe and Goyle rise from their seats, cracking their knuckles, but neither moved. What are they waiting for? he wondered.

"What's going on here?" Harry demanded, shooting Draco a look of extreme dislike.

"I'm not killing your precious Mudblood, Potter, so cool it," Draco replied scathingly. Ron stepped forward, fists clenched, but he stopped at the sight of Filch, on Draco's left, lurking near the doorway.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked Hermione, her eyes filled with concern.

Hermione nodded, pushing her bushy hair back. "Every thing's fine, thanks. Why do you ask?"

Ron guffawed and Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. Ginny leaned forward slightly, looked at Draco, then back at Hermione. "well, you seem...different this morning."

This proved to be too much for Ron."DIFFERENT?" he yelled, waving his hands in the air. "MALFOY'S ATTACHED TO MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"YOUR WHAT?" Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Draco asked in unison, their shocked gazes swinging to the redheaded boy. Draco snickered as Hermione reddened and looked away.

Again, silence fell over the Great Hall momentarily before fits of laughter broke out amongst the students. Draco sneered at Ron, but remained still. Ron, however, realizing all eyes were now on him, smiled weakly then slumped down behind Harry, covering his face with one hand; his ears burned bright red.

"This is just temporary," Hermione said briskly, ignoring Ron's outburst. "Nothing is wrong, Ron, okay?"

"Is it true then?" Ginny queried. "Are you two, um, stuck together?"

"Yes, it's true," Draco snapped. "Come to get a better look at the freak show, have you?" Anger burned brightly in Harry and Ron's eyes, but neither made a move. Ginny, on the other hand, ground her heel into Draco's toes.

Draco jumped back with a little yelp and sneered at Ginny. "You'd better get back to your seat little Weasel, because there's nothing you can do for your brother's girlfriend." This time, Harry needed to be held back. Hermione gasped and half-dragged Draco out of the Great Hall amidst roars of laughter from the students.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny watched Hermione and Draco leave the Great Hall. Her friend’s situation was most troubling; why would Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, put a potential member of the Order together with the son of a known Death Eater?

I’m sure the Headmaster had his reasons, she sighed inwardly, following Harry and Ron back to the Gryffindor table. What they are may never be clear, however...

Her concerned gaze rested on her brother, Ron, as he flopped down on the beach next to Harry. The look of defeat on his freckled face surprised Ginny. His outburst was rather unexpected; she knew Ron cared for Hermione, but to openly admit it--in front of the entire school no less--must have been very difficult for him.

Harry looked almost as miserable as Ron. Ginny raised an eyebrow in interest. This was interesting. Was Harry concerned for Hermione as a friend, or as something more? Ginny suddenly giggled, drawing the boys’ notice.

"What?" Ron asked miserably. "Are you laughing at me too?"

"Don’t be silly," Ginny scoffed. "I noticed something about someone else and found it funny."

"Has Neville found Trevor in Dean’s porridge again?" Harry asked, referring to the toad that Neville Longbottom, another Gryffindor, always seemed to misplace.

Ginny shook her head. "No, Harry. It’s you."

Harry gave her a puzzled look. "Is it my hair?" He ran a hand through his tousled dark locks. "If you didn’t know by now that it always looks like this--"

"No--and forget I said anything, okay?"

Ron and Harry exchanged looks of exasperation, then went back to eating.

As Ginny nibbled on a piece of buttered toast, she wondered what spell Dumbledore placed on Hermione and the boy everyone hated. Ginny thought it had to be pretty complicated, or else Hermione, who knew loads of spells, would have broken it quickly. But then again, Ginny snickered to herself, Hermione would never go against a teacher, let alone the Headmaster.

She contemplated helping Hermione out that bind by looking for and performing, secretly, of course, the spell to separate the Head Girl and Head Boy. It would be tricky, but Ginny immediately thought of someone who could help her: Luna.

Luna Lovegood was a bit strange, but the witch knew quite a bit. Ginny had been impressed with Luna’s uncanny ability to know things, despite going about life in a way many considered to be odd or backward. Neville Longbottom was convinced Luna was a Seer; Ginny believed Luna was exactly like Hermione--only less bossy.

Ginny resolved to speak to Luna before the evening was out. Between the two of them, Ginny was certain they could find a spell to free Hermione from the clutches of that horrid Draco Malfoy.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione shrieked, once they were clear of the doorway.

Draco crossed his arms. "I shouldn't be in this predicament; it's preposterous. I refuse to set foot in there with a Mudbl-- OW! What in the bloody hell did you do that for?" Draco cried out, rubbing his head; Hermione had cuffed him squarely on the back of his cranium.

"I'm sick--do you hear me?--SICK of your whining! GET OVER IT!" She screeched at him, going quite red in the face. "All I ever hear from you is 'Poor me'! Well, you know what? I don't care!" Hermione's chest heaved as she and Draco glared at one another.

"Are you finished?" Draco drawled lazily, amused that Granger had gotten so mad so quickly.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "I'm hungry!"

"I am too, but you don’t see me raving like a lunatic."

"You would love that, wouldn’t you?" Hermione shot back. "You’d love to tell those precious Slytherins how I fell to pieces over this."

"I won’t argue with you there, Granger," Draco snickered. "But don’t worry; I’ll change your name to protect your reputation." His harsh, mocking laugh grated Hermione’s nerves.

"Malfoy, I hope you choke on your pumpkin juice!"

"Wow, Granger; you’re awfully cranky today," Draco said in an amused tone. "What’s the matter? Did you get up on the wrong side of Weasel’s bed this morning?"

Hermione looked dangerously close to whipping out her wand and hexing him, so Draco closed his mouth and wisely remained silent.

"I’m not going to lower myself to your taunts; it was how we landed ourselves in this situation to begin with, Malfoy," Hermione huffed. "I honestly don’t care what you think of me or this," she gestured to where they were attached. "Just get in there and get used to the jokes and stares, because we'll be getting them quite often!"

Draco almost laughed aloud. Granger had one hell of a bee in her bonnet! He opened his mouth to tell her so, but again thought better of it.

The second attempt to enter the Great Hall went a bit smoother...until Hermione adamantly refused to to sit with the Slytherins and Draco firmly believed he'd contract a deadly disease if he sat at the Gryffindor table.

In the end, amongst the pointing, stares, and shrieks of laughter, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy ate breakfast whilst seated on the stone floor of the Great Hall.

Getting through the first day proved much more difficult than either Hermione or Draco had imagined. There was the problem of which of their lessons to attend. Draco suggested that they attend Hermione’s classes before lunch and his in the afternoon; this way he wouldn’t be missing Potions with the rest of the Slytherins.

Hermione was very suspicious of Draco's generosity and questioned him closely, but only received biting remarks in return. The Gryffindors were not happy to see Draco Malfoy during certain lessons, but most people held their tongues.

Harry and Ron were most especially put out when they realized they couldn't talk to Hermione as they wanted. Ron had gotten a disturbing letter from his brother Bill that morning; the Order believed Voldemort to be behind a recent attack of an Auror outside the Leaky Cauldron. 'Kingsley Shacklebolt was on his way to meet an aquaintance of Mundungus' and was approached from behind as he walked towards the pub. Luckily, Tom was sweeping the step and scared the cloaked figure away...' Bill had written.

"You don't think it was a Muggle do you?" Ron asked hesitantly, rolling the letter. "They're always hanging about the area, looking shifty."

"I doubt it," Harry replied, watching Ron stuff the letter into his bag. "Muggles don't pay attention to us. And the guy was wearing a cloak, so it had to be a wizard."

Ron looked over at Hermione, who was standing in the courtyard with Malfoy. The Head Boy wore an expression of boredom as Hermione poured over a Muggle Studies textbook. Ron wanted to go over and tell Hermione what was going on, but decided that was a bad idea; Draco was likely to report to his parents whatever they discussed.

A group of Slytherins sauntered past Ron and Harry then slowed as they approached Hermione and Draco. Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and three others began whispering fiercely; Pansy suddenly let out a shriek of laughter. Hermione looked up momentarily from her book and Draco frowned at his cronies.

"Uh-oh," Harry muttered, standing up. "Come on," he said to Ron, "this doesn't look good."

Ron and Harry deftly made their way across the courtyard, coming up behind the Slytherins. By now the small group had stopped in front of Hermione and Draco and were openly speaking to them. Harry and Ron caught part of Pansy's speech.

"...stuck to a Mudblood, Draco? You seem to be taking it better than we expected. Why, I'm so disappointed in you, Draco."

"Shut it, Pansy," Draco snarled. "You know nothing about this situation."

"I know that you haven't tried to free yourself. We were just wondering what that is...and if we should still call you a Slytherin?"

Hermione slammed her book shut. "Parkinson, why don't you--?"

Pansy went on, ignoring Hermione. "Don't worry Draco, you might not be calling yourself a Slytherin anymore, but we have a wonderful new name for you."

"And I suppose you're going to enlighten me?" Draco growled, eyeing Pansy with anger.

Pansy clapped her hands together and shrieked, "DRAMIONE!"

The Slytherins laughed hysterically. Hermione's face flamed red and her gaze swung to Harry and Ron, standing behind the group. Ron's face was also crimson, but not from embarrassment. He pulled out his wand and yelled out a Hair Loss Curse. Pansy, the target, shrieked in terror as her hair suddenly disappeared. She placed her school bag on top of her head and raced away, the three unknown Slytherins following close behind.

Crabbe and Goyle, however, stood their ground. Too late, Ron realized he would catch the full brunt of an Engorgement Charm. Before his face swelled to unnatural proportions, Ron saw Crabbe and Goyle sprawled on the ground; Harry was hastily putting his wand away.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione scolded, moving forward to help her friend. She pointed her wand at his swelled face and murmured, "Reducio."

Draco looked amused. "You should have left him that way, Granger; it was an improvement."

Ron scowled and Hermione retorted, "Quiet, Malfoy, before I hex you." She turned back to Ron and Harry. "Since I witnessed that, I'll have to take ten points from Gryffindor."

Ron's jaw dropped. "But, Hermione, we helped you out!"

Hermione shook her head. "Everything was fine, Ron. I’m sure Malfoy and I could have handled it."

"Since when did you become a team?" Ron asked suspiciously, eyeing Draco with dislike.

"Uh, Ron?" Harry cleared his throat. "They are stuck together."

"Yeah, Weasel, you yourself made that very obvious when you blabbed it to the whole school over breakfast this morning," Draco drawled.

"Malfoy, stop it," Hermione muttered, seeing the look on Ron's face.

"Look, Hermione, we'll just be on our way," Harry said, grabbing Ron's arm. "We can talk to you some other time, all right?"

Hermione nodded and watched her two best friends walk away, feeling as though she were being torn in two. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but the tears still threatened to spill over. Ron had been really upset and Harry had obviously wanted to talk to her about something. Hermione glanced at Draco; it would be impossible to speak to her friends with him around.

She was now regretting her part in the duel last night.

Draco glanced down at Hermione; there they were again--the tears. Draco groaned inwardly; he was bloody thankful that he wasn't some simpering girl. Cry over the most bizarre things, girls do, Draco thought sarcastically. If I were a girl, I'd feed myself to a dragon.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"So will you help me?" Ginny asked a copy of The Quibbler. She had found just the person she was looking for at the very end of the day, sitting on the floor outside Professor Binns' classroom.

The newspaper lowered to reveal Luna Lovegood; she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Danger and intrigue? Secrets and spells?" Luna said, her eyes going wider than ever before. "Of course. I'm surprised you had to ask, Ginevra."

"Great," Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll have to sneak out tonight and break into the library."

"Sounds like fun. Perhaps I can even write an article on espionage for my father to publish in The Quibbler." She held up the newspaper in her hand. "I'm sure it will help sell many copies." Luna paused a moment then said, "Not that it doesn't sell well now. Though I can't understand why no one wants to read about the positive effects of a Billywig bite."

Ginny, ignoring Luna's babbling, began pacing the corridor. "We'll have to do something about Filch, Mrs. Norris, and Peeves."

"Oh, that’ll be easy!" Luna exclaimed with a smile. "I know what to do."

Ginny looked questioningly at Luna. "What are you going to do? Stun Filch and his cat?"

"STUN HIM?" Luna shrieked with laughter, tipping over and rolling on the floor, causing Ginny jumped back in surprise. "Oh, that's funny!" Luna gasped.

"Shh, Luna!" Ginny hissed, looking about her, slightly embarrassed. Several students gave them strange looks, but Luna paid them no attention; her giggles died down and she straightened to look up at Ginny.

"Oh, no," Luna said dreamily. "I have something else in mind, but if it doesn't work, I just might have to do that; thank you for the suggestion, Ginevra."

Ginny frowned at the Ravenclaw and replied, "Um, okay then. Just meet me in the library around eight-thirty this evening. That should leave us with enough time between Madame Pince locking up and Hermione and Malfoy beginning their patrols."

"Sounds wonderful," Luna sighed happily. "But how are we going to perform the spell without either noticing?"

This time, it was Ginny's turn to grin madly. "Leave that to me."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Slytherins continued their crude remarks and cruel laughter, calling the Head Boy and Girl "Dramione" at every turn.

Pansy Parkinson, having visited Madame Pomfrey, was now sporting a whole new hairstyle. The Slytherin took much delight in singing "Hey, Dramione!" every time she passed the pair in the corridors.

The other Hogwarts students had no longer found Hermione's and Draco's situation funny. The stares of disbelief had become looks of sympathy and a few offered advice on how the Head Girl and Head Boy could separate.

Seamus Finnigan told Hermione to roll around in a patch of four-leaf clovers and Neville suggested they rub Moonwort Fern on themselves.

The most surprising--and disturbing--advice came during dinner. As Hermione and Draco sat on floor, a large Barn Owl zoomed into the Great Hall and deposited a roll of parchment into Hermione's lap.

She unrolled it and quickly scanned the message. After a moment she let out a snort of laughter. "Are they crazy?" she shrieked.

Hermione flipped the parchment over, took out a quill, and scribbled the words 'NO, THANKS!'. She then rolled it back up and handed it back to the owl, who hooted its thanks then took flight again, back in the direction it had come.

"What’s so funny, Granger?" Draco asked, as he finished a treacle tart. "Who was that from?"

"Fred and George Weasley," Hermione replied with a chuckle. "It seems they've heard about our...misfortune."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Is there no one who has not?" he asked snidely. "What did they want?"

"Er, they wanted to help us."

"And?"

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "Fred and George wanted to know if we'd like to be 'willing participants' in a field test for a new product called 'Sticking Shock'. If it works, we get a crate of free samples to give away to Hogwarts students."

"Bloody hell!" Draco snorted. "Those two don't have a brain between them! 'Willing participant'? It sounds like they want to torture us!"

Hermione laughed. "That's exactly what I thought. I declined, naturally."

"Naturally."

They finished their meal in silence, each thinking how odd it was to laugh with the other and not exchange ugly words. Surprisingly, Hermione and Draco found that it was somewhat pleasant; but neither would admit that out loud.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"You want to borrow what?" Harry asked in disbelief, looking up at Ginny, his Divination homework temporarily forgotten.

Ginny had cornered Harry and Ron in the Common Room after dinner and asked to speak to them. They had been jovial until Ginny put forth her demand.

She nearly laughed out loud at Harry's slack-jawed response. "Your invisibility cloak, Harry," she sighed. "Goodness, you’re thick."

"But how--how do you know I even have one?" Harry looked nervous.

"Yeah, Gin," Ron put in, setting his quill down. "What makes you think Harry even owns something so rare?"

Ginny scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know that you two and Hermione sneak down to see Hagrid all the time. As a matter of fact, just last April the three of you 'wandered' into the Dark Forest after midnight, though I'm pretty certain that wasn’t the first time. Besides," she added slyly, "I'm sure you wouldn't want McGonagall to know you've been out of bed past curfew."

"How can you know all of this?" Ron demanded. "We're not supposed to be seen under there!"

Harry groaned; Ginny's grin went wider.

"Why, thank you, Ron," she said sweetly. "Now, I'll be having that cloak."

Ginny's brother gave Harry an apologetic look. "She’s brutal," Ron sighed.

Harry, suppressing a grin, got up from the table and went to his dormitory. A moment later, he returned with a silvery cloak tucked under one arm. Without a word, he handed it to Ginny.

"I promise I will return this in the morning and in one piece," Ginny told Harry. "You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you."

"You’re welcome, Ginny," Harry sighed, "but you don't know how much that," he nodded his head toward the cloak, "means to me."

"What d'ya need that for?" Ron asked, frowning, as Ginny folded the cloak neatly and hid it beneath her robe.

"Let's just say I'm helping a friend," she replied with a smile.

"And what makes you think we won’t tell on you?" Ron shot her a triumphant grin.

"Well, let me think," Ginny said, tapping her chin. "You could tell on me, but then Harry might never see the cloak again, because I'd tell on you."

This time, Ron's jaw dropped. "You wouldn’t."

Ginny laughed and walked away from the two boys, her response drifting back to them.

"Try me."

As they sat in their Common Room later that evening, Hermione busied herself by reading The Daily Prophet, while Draco grew uneasy under Crookshanks' searching gaze.

"Will you call off that ugly cat of yours?" Draco said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Hermione lowered the newspaper and turned to look at Draco. "What has he done to you now, Malfoy?" she asked in exasperation.

"He's staring at me!" Draco snapped. Indeed, Crookshanks was sitting on the arm of the sofa, inches from Malfoy's face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're such a ninny, Malfoy; Crookshanks can't hurt you!" She reached across Draco to give Crookshanks a pat. "You're scaring the big, bad Slytherin," she told her cat. "Can you find somewhere else to sit?” Hermione then went back to reading.

Draco could've sworn the cat rolled its own eyes at him before it jumped away from the sofa and sauntered off to lay on the rug in front the fireplace.

The clock on the hearth signaled it was time to start patrols. In unison, they stood up and made their way to the portrait hole. Draco gestured to Hermione to go first; she had only gotten one foot out into the corridor when Professor McGonagall appeared.

Hermione screamed.

"Really, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall sniffed, folding her hands together, "it does no one good to be so jumpy."

Draco snorted gleefully; however, he quickly fell silent when Professor McGonagall's steely gaze rested upon him.

"I am here to inform you that patrols on the sixth floor are not necessary."

Hermione was confused. "Not...necessary? If I may inquire as to why that is?"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, clearly embarrassed. "It seems Peeves has caused quite a bit of trouble for Mr. Filch this evening. Not only has Peeves set off a large supply of Dungbombs, he's taken Professor Binns test papers and a large quantity of marbles and has, er, scattered them everywhere."

Hermione clasped a hand to her mouth. "Oh, no!"

"Unfortunately, Peeves has now taken to pelting Mrs. Norris with spoons from the kitchen," Professor McGonagall continued, "So to keep students from becoming--how shall I put this?--spooned to death, I have blocked off the sixth floor corridor while Mr. Filch and the Headmaster attempt to bring things under control."

Hermione nodded, making a mental note to avoid the sixth floor at all costs. She wondered what could have possibly gotten into Peeves? Hogwarts' resident poltergeist was always just a little bit obnoxious, but tonight he was being downright sadistic!

Professor McGonagall nodded her good nights to them and went on her way. The Head Boy and Girl stood in stunned silence until she was out of sight.

Then Draco suddenly burst into fits of laughter. Hermione couldn’t help herself; she began to giggle also.

"'Spooned to death'?" Draco repeated cooly, giving Hermione a bemused look. "I think I'd pay real Galleons to see that.”

Hermione chuckled. "You know what? I think I'd be right there alongside you!"

There was a pause, as Draco caught the last of Hermione's words and realized their irony. Then the Head Boy and Girl collapsed into giggles; they chortled at the absurdity of the situation taking place up on the sixth floor and then the ridiculousness of their own situation.

After a few moments, however, Draco seemed to realize what he was doing and sobered quickly. Hermione, seeing the sudden change in Draco, stopped laughing immediately.

After a long, tense pause, Hermione coughed. "Perhaps we should start in the library?" she suggested.

"Why the library, Granger? Haven't you done enough reading for one night?" Draco folded his arms crossly. Hermione's chest tightened; she should have guessed the glimpse of a happier Draco was too good to be true.

"For your information, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, "the library is an excellent place for students to hide when they are out of bed past curfew."

Draco's bored expression changed to one of leering interest. "Really?" he asked. "How do you know that? Ever been in the library after hours with Hand-Me-Down Weasel?"

Hermione blushed and replied "No! But Harry--" she stopped, biting her lip. No one was supposed to know Harry had snuck in there during their first year while trying to find information on Nicholas Flamel.

Draco, however, took Hermione's sudden loss of words to mean something else. "Ah-ha!" he crowed. "The Mudblood and Scarhead snogged in the library! How very interesting!"

"It wasn't like that!" Hermione objected, her hands becoming fists. How could Malfoy's attitude change so suddenly? she wondered grudgingly. Hermione found she was irked--and didn’t like it.

The Head Boy threw his head back and guffawed. "Of course not! You probably bored him to tears with the complete history of kissing instead of actually doing it!"

Hermione gritted her teeth; Malfoy was deliberately baiting her. "Let's just go, Malfoy," she said tersely, trying to move away from their portrait hole.

Draco allowed Hermione to lead the way, his howls of laughter echoing throughout the corridor.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Where have you been?" Ginny nearly shrieked, pulling off the invisibility cloak when Luna came waltzing down the hallway. The redhead had been standing outside the library for nearly ten minutes! she could have been looking at the books inside if Luna hadn't taken forever and a day!

Luna pretended to dust her hands. 'I did say I would take care of Peeves, Filch, and Mrs. Norris, did I not?' she smiled knowingly. "They ought to be busy for quite some time."

"What did you do?" Ginny looked at Luna in wide-eyed wonder.

"You'll see," Luna replied vaguely. She looked at the closed library door. "I see you haven’t opened the door, Ginevra. What was keeping you?”

Ginny growled, suddenly wanting to smack Luna. "I was waiting for a Crumple-Horned Snorkack to walk by," she retorted sarcastically.

Luna began looking up and down the corridor interestedly. "Really?" she asked excitedly. "It would be a long way from Scandinavia! Do you suppose it could have gotten lost?"

So much for thinking she was anything like Hermione! Ginny groaned inwardly. The redhead pulled out her wand and instructed Luna to do the same. Luna tugged at the wand behind her ear and pointed it at the lock on the library door.

In the distance, they heard a faint crash, then the echoes of Peeves cackles filtered toward them.

Ginny desperately wanted to know what was going on, but helping Hermione was her top priority. She and Luna tapped the lock and whispered "Alohomora".

The door creaked open and the girls made their way through the silent, darkened library, using their lighted wand tips to look at the rows of leather-bound volumes.

Ginny thought they should look in the Restricted Section, but Luna held her back.

"It's best that we don't," Luna said simply.

"Why, Luna?" Ginny queried. "Those books probably hold the best information--information we need! I don't want to be sneaking around the library any longer than necessary, you know."

Luna shook her head with a vague smile. "No good can come from those books right now."

So Ginny decided to search the rows that were not restricted.

They came across something titled 'Counter-Spells For The Clueless' almost immediately. Ginny excitedly pulled the tome down and scanned through it.

"'To pull apart any two objects that won't quite budge after being stuck together,'" she read quietly to Luna, who was peering at a book about Aquavirious Maggots, "'one can use one of two simple charms: "Seorsum" or "Scindola".' Hmm. Do you think one of these could be the one?"

The light from her wand lit up Luna's eerie white smile. "One means 'apart' and the other means 'separate'."

Ginny looked back at the page she'd read from. "Why, yes, they do!" She snapped the book closed and placed it back on the shelf. "Luna," Ginny asked suspiciously, "did you know those spells all ready?"

Luna nodded, replacing the volume she was perusing.

"Why didn’t you just tell me what you knew and saved me the trouble!” Ginny ground out. “We would not have had to go prowling around in the dark looking for something you already knew!”

“But, you did not ask me for that information," Luna replied serenely, before turning back to the books on the shelves.

Ginny growled and made to wring Luna's neck, but suddenly the door to the library creaked open.

Instantly, Ginny and Luna put out their wands and scurried under the invisibility cloak. They moved further back along the row, until they backed up to the window. The girls listened as the sound of two voices--one male, one female--floated toward them.

"Malfoy and Hermione," Ginny whispered, her voice barely audible; Luna nodded, understanding.

They watched in horror as Draco and Hermione paused at their row. Draco looked unseeingly at them and for a moment, Ginny's heart leapt to her throat; what if Malfoy could see them? After what seemed like an eternity, Draco and Hermione moved on, still talking in low tones.

Ginny was too scared to move; she put a finger to her lips indicating she and Luna should remain quiet. They moved forward along the row at a snail's pace until they were nearly out in the main aisle.

Ginny leaned forward in an effort to ascertain Hermione’s and Draco’s whereabouts; Hermione was coming right toward her!

She moved back so suddenly, that Luna stumbled up against one of the bookshelves. The noise caused Hermione and Draco to pause; the Head Girl narrowed her eyes and peered down the row.

"Do you see something Granger?" Draco asked lazily "Wait. Let me guess: you've spied the one book in this place that you haven't read yet. Is that it?"

Hermione flung her arm out and swung it all around. Ginny held her breath and flattened herself against Luna, not caring that she was nearly crushing the poor girl.

"Are you waving at the book, Granger?" Draco asked, incredulously. "It's not going to wave back, you know," he added sarcastically. "Why don't you come down here some other time and make a proper introduction? It's not as though the book will be taking a vacation any time soon."

Hermione, annoyed, elbowed Draco. The Head Girl and Boy and continued on until they reached the library doors. At last, the two left, leaving Ginny and Luna to breathe sighs of relief.

"Come on!" Ginny exclaimed, pulling Luna along. "We’ve got to catch them and perform the spell before it gets any later!"

They raced to the door, but opened it very slowly to avoid the loud creak it usually made. Once it was open enough to slip through, Luna headed out first, gesturing to Ginny to move left.

The two girls moved quickly but silently through the corridors until they spotted Draco and Hermione going into an empty classroom. Ginny saw their chance; they would hit Hermione and Draco with a spell when they exited the room.

They skittered over to the door and flattened themselves against the wall.

Ginny and Luna then poked their wand tips out from under the invisibility cloak and waited.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Doesn't seem to be anyone in here," Draco frowned in annoyance.

"I know that," Hermione retorted. "Someone’s following us, so I thought coming in here would give us some time."

"Time for what?" Draco seemed confused. "And who are you talking about?”

"Time to come up with a plan," Hermione sighed, pulling out her wand. "Perhaps you ought to visit Madame Pomfrey and get your hearing checked. Didn't you hear someone walking along the corridor behind us?"

"No." Draco was looking at Hermione as if she had just spouted nonsense.

"I thought I heard something in the library," she told him, "but now I'm positive that there is an out-of-bed student prowling around Hogwarts."

Draco rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Perfect." This might be his chance to give detentions to and take points from one of the two people he hated most: Potter and Weasley.

Hermione seemed to sense what Draco was thinking; she shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy, but I don't think it's Harry or Ron. I distinctly smelled lemons whilst in the library; that's usually a feminine scent."

Draco's face fell; he had so hoped he could take Potter or Weasley down! "Was it Madame Pince's perfume?" he asked instead.

"Madame Pince wears something that smells a little like peppermint," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Peeves?" Draco knew he was grasping at straws, but honestly didn't care; he was still hoping Hermione was wrong and the culprit turned out to be one of her male friends.

"He's still on the sixth floor, remember?" Hermione said. "Nearly Headless Nick told us so." Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was the Gryffindor Ghost whose head had not been severed properly, thus gaining him the name 'Nearly Headless Nick'.

"Right." Draco was still unconvinced.

"I can think of one person," Hermione suddenly piped up; her tone was one of disgust. "Your girlfriend, Parkinson. She's been out to get us all day. I wouldn't be surprised if she was out there waiting for us to come out so she could hex us."

"First of all, Pansy is not my girlfriend, Granger,” Draco growled. "How dare you imply such a thing? Secondly, Pansy may be annoying, but she certainly wouldn't have the brains pull a stunt like that."

"How little you know your friends, Malfoy," Hermione retorted. "And how dare you imply that Ron is my boyfriend." The fake smile Hermione flashed made Draco’s scowl deepen even further.

"Whatever, Granger," Draco spat. "If it is Pansy out there, then let's confront her."

"I'm surprised you want to give another Slytherin a punishment," Hermione said lightly.

"At this point, I don't care who it is," Draco snapped. "I just want to get tonight over with so we can try to figure out how to break this bloody spell."

Hermione snorted, but did not reply; she wanted to be free from Draco too, but her first priority was to find out who was lurking in the corridor...

~*~*~*~*~*~

He appeared out of nowhere. Ginny had glanced over at Luna, yet when she focused once more on the classroom door, the Headmaster was there!

Ginny's heart lurched and her blood ran cold. Hurriedly, she and Luna pulled their wands back under the cloak. How did Dumbledore appear so quietly? Ginny wondered, her mind racing. I thought Apparating in the castle was prohibited! The redhead made a mental note to pay closer attention to her surroundings.

Dumbledore wasn’t known to anger easily, but what would the Headmaster say if he discovered Ginny and Luna standing under Harry's invisibility cloak nearly two hours after curfew?

Wait a moment, Ginny told herself, we're invisible! What am I worrying about? She glanced at Luna, who's luminous features appeared unfazed by Professor Dumbledore's arrival. In fact, Luna looked as if she were about to shout out a greeting to the Headmaster!

Ginny made a 'don’t-you-even-think-about-it' face and shook her head once; Luna retaliated with a look that clearly questioned Ginny's sanity.

Less than five feet away, the Headmaster peered all around him, clasping his hand behind his back. He cleared his throat; at that moment, the classroom door swung open.

Ginny and Luna watched as Hermione, followed closely by Malfoy, rushed out into the corridor, shouting, "Show your--Ahhh!"

Hermione stopped short, causing Draco to bump into her. The Head Girl and Boy stumbled, but Dumbledore's quick firm grip on Hermione's elbow halted their fall.

"P-Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione squeaked. "I'm sorry, sir; we thought you were someone else!"

Draco's gaze snapped to Hermione's face; it was obvious to Ginny that he didn't like being lumped into the word "we".

Dumbledore chuckled, righting Hermione, then releasing her arm. "I have been thought of as being many things, Miss Granger, so I suppose a generalization rather than a specification is a compliment?"

Beside Ginny, Luna snorted lightly; the redhead grimaced at the blonde girl, taking note that Dumbledore's eyes shifted briefly in their direction.

Not good! Ginny panicked; she was going to kill Luna...!

"I have been searching for the two of you," Dumbledore told Hermione and Draco, looking meaningfully at them. "I wanted to inform you that the, ah, situation on the sixth floor has been taken care of.”

"If I may inquire, sir," Hermione asked quietly, "What happened? Professor McGonagall mentioned Dungbombs and...spoons?” Beside her, Draco rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Ah, yes," Professor Dumbledore nodded. "It seems a student deliberately gave Peeves a few choice items and said something rather naughty to get him riled enough to cause a bit more havoc than usual."

"In other words," Draco drawled, his eyes showing nearly no emotion, "a particular pupil pissed Peeves off."

Ginny's eyes went round and she looked upon Luna, impressed.

The Headmaster's eyes lit up; "A very good use of alliteration, Mr. Malfoy," he said with a nod of his head. "I must remember to relay that one to Madame Pince."

"No offense, sir," Draco continued, "but our patrols are over now, so would you mind if we...?" He gestured in the direction of their Common Room.

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore stepped back and allowed Draco and Hermione to pass. However, when they were only five feet away, Hermione stopped in her tracks. She whipped around, extracting a muffled "Hey!" from Draco.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Hermione stated loudly, looking anxiously at the Headmaster.

"Miss Granger?"

"I wouldn't ask this if were not important, however--"

"The privacy issue?" Dumbledore finished for her, his tone amused. Hermione nodded, and surprisingly, Draco did the same.

"I know we are on punishment," Hermione began, "but honestly, Professor, I...I mean we," she gestured to herself and Draco, "need a bit of time to care care of some things and I refuse--and I am really sorry to say it like that, sir--to do those things with him," she jerked her head and thumb at Draco, "right next to me!"

This time, Ginny snorted. She quickly covered her mouth, but everyone was looking in her direction.

Hermione narrowed her eyes for a split second, while Draco simply looked puzzled. Dumbledore, however, looked as though he were about to laugh heartily.

After a handful of heartbeats, the trio continued their conversation.

"I understand your dilemma, Miss Granger. I am only sorry I did not think of that before," Dumbledore said slowly. "I am only human, after all, and prone to mistakes--despite what some people would like to believe. Please accept my apology--and my eagerness to correct the situation."

Draco's gaze snapped to attention; he looked hopeful. "Are you going to separate us, sir?” Hermione, Ginny noted, looked quite eager also.

Dumbledore hesitated briefly before answering, "Yes and no."

Draco immediately became suspicious; he hated when the Headmaster spoke in cryptic tones. "What does that mean, Professor?"

Instead of answering immediately, Dumbledore removed an odd-shaped pink box from his robes. He shook it lightly and a quartet of small shiny red dots fell into his hand.

"Red Hots!" Hermione smiled, recognizing the Muggle candy at once.

Dumbledore held out his hand. "Perhaps some sweets will make you feel better?"

Draco sneered at Dumbledore. "No thank you, sir; I don't eat Muggle candy." He turned his face away from the Headmaster.

Hermione looked at the Red Hots longingly and said, "I doubt very much my parents would like it if I ate candy; they're dentists, you know." Beside her, Draco made a scoffing noise.

"Ah, my dear Head Boy and Girl, you really ought to take these," Dumbledore said shrewdly; he thrust his hand closer to Hermione and Draco, who looked at each other in curiosity, then hesitantly took the tiny candies and popped them into their mouths. At once, each yelped and fell away from one another.

They stared, shocked and facing one another, looking down at themselves as though unable to believe what had just happened.

"I'm free!" Draco whooped and spun around happily. Hermione stood openmouthed for a moment, then a huge grin spread across her face.

I’m free! she thought, stunned. Was this a dream?

Draco, however, decided to take this opportunity to run like mad; he wanted to get away from Granger as quickly as possible and put as much distance between them as he could manage.

However, he didn't get far; about fifty feet away, he was jerked back--and as though an invisible hand snatched the waistband of his pants beneath his robes--Draco was thrown onto the ground.

Hermione, despite herself, gasped and guffawed loudly. Even Luna and Ginny couldn’t help but let one or two chuckles escape their lips. Thankfully, Hermione laughed loud enough to mask the invisible girls' giggles.

"That wasn’t normal Muggle candy, was it, Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione asked smothering a grin and wanting very much to point and howl with laughter, but restrained herself; she didn't want to give Malfoy any more reasons to be cruel to her.

"I think Mr. Malfoy has just discovered the uniqueness of Seorsum Drops," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "They allow the two of you to be separated for a while, a few hours I believe. In the meantime, you cannot stray far from the other.”

"For a while?" Draco echoed stupidly, straining to sit up. "You mean we have to go back to being stuck together?" There was a note of panicked desperation in his voice.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore replied. "I was very serious when I told you that both of you needed to learn a lesson."

"Will we have to eat the candies every time we want to be separated?" Hermione queried. She hoped not--she could just imagine Draco wanting to eat the whole box at once.

"Yes," Dumbledore responded. "Two candies are all you will need for an eight hour period. At this time tomorrow you will need to take them again to separate for the evening--and every evening, until you discover how to separate yourselves."

Draco looked hopeful. “What if I were to take more than two?” Hermione rolled her eyes upward; of course Malfoy would ask that.

“Not a wise idea, my young friend,” Dumbledore said slowly, turning the box over to Hermione. “You would not feel well at all and would have to see Madame Pomfrey.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing she couldn’t fix.” Draco shot back smugly; Hermione wanted to smack him. Dumbledore, however, peered imposingly at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“I’m certain she could,” the Headmaster replied lightly, “but I doubt very much that your bowels will thank you for it.”

“My bowels? Oh.” Draco groaned, watching Hermione pocket the candies as she bit her lip to keep from snickering.

“Sir, you haven’t answered the one burning question: the restroom?” Draco grumbled. “What shall we do during the day?”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore nodded. “I suppose I will sound crass, but do the words ”keep your legs crossed” mean anything to you?”

Ginny and Luna exchanged an amused glance; simultaneously, Hermione gasped in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” Draco muttered, knowing full well that Dumbledore was.

“Any concerns you have regarding that issue ought to be taken care of in the evening whilst you are separated, am I making myself clear?” Dumbledore peered at them over his half-moon spectacles.

Hermione nodded deftly, then turned and moved down the hallway; Draco, not wanting to be dragged down again, followed in pursuit. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione called over her shoulder as she disappeared around a corner.

The Headmaster chuckled and put the candy box back into a pocket of his robes. He then cleared his throat again, looked directly at Ginny and said:

"Hello, Miss Weasley; I see you've borrowed Harry's cloak."

Upon returning to their Common Room that evening, Hermione hurriedly made a mad dash for her dorm. Draco snickered as he watched the back of her frizzy brown head disappear behind her bedroom door.

Lazily he stretched his arms over his head and sighed heavily, yawning as he made his way over to his own private dormitory. As Draco passed his bed, he tossed his school robe onto it and kicked off his shoes. Draco then removed his tie as he padded across the plush carpet and into the marble-tiled bathroom.

He took a long, hot shower and slipped into fresh clothes--for it would be 8 hours before he and Granger were separated again. He hated sleeping in his robes; this spell that Dumbledore placed upon them was really getting to him! Draco looked at his sullen reflection silently; it was only the first day! What would their remaining time together look like for him?

He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin; he knew he’d have a difficult time getitng to sleep, but the thought of Granger being just as annoyed about this whole thing made him feel a little better.

He dreamed of a green-haired Granger holding a large cat who sang about Muggle candy, while McGonagall and Peeves chased them down the hall--chucking spoons at them along the way.

The next morning, Draco woke with a start; a sudden tug at his side indicated that his temporary reprieve was soon coming to an end. Defiantly, Draco moved to the bathroom, hoping to get his last break in beforehe was attached to Granger once more. But it was not to be; the tug became more insistant, causing Draco to grip the rim of the white marble sink. He sneered; he would not go back willingly to Granger's side.

As he clutched the basin, Draco's arms began to quiver violently and the suggestive tug became an outright pull; it quickly became a battle of wills in which Draco was desperate to win.

However, the spell had other plans for the Head Boy; Draco's limbs went numb and he fell to the floor with a loud and painful thump. He involuntarily stiffened as though falling victim to a body-bind, then was unceremoniously dragged--by an unseen hand--across the cold stone floor, over the soft carpeting, and out into the Common Room.

Instantaneously, he was reminded of his foray into the boundaries of the Shrieking Shack back in his third year. He had been terrified then, but now he was just bloody angry!

Draco couldn't even curse properly when he saw Hermione's amused face staring down at him after he came to a halt at her feet.

"Good morning! I knew you'd try that," she sniffed haughtily. "I must admit that I was also tempted to resist, but I just knew Professor Dumbledore would do something like that." She nodded at Draco's prostrate form lying helplessly on the floor; the only thing he could do was glare at her.

Another minute passed painfully for Draco until he was able to regain control of his body. Crookshanks took this time to lay across Draco's forehead and shove his bottle-brush tail under the blonde boy's nose. Hermione giggled, but promptly shooed her cat away; she didn't want Draco attempting to throttle her beloved feline because of its antics.

When he was finally free, Draco leapt to his feet and wobbled a bit, grasping the arm of a nearby overstuffed chair for support. Almost immediately, Hermione yelped; she was crudely shoved back to Draco's side as though each had magnets under their skin.

“Can we try to get to a class?--as painlessly as possible?”

“Please?”

“Please what?” Draco looked confused for a moment.

“You forgot to say it; say ‘please’.”

“Bloody hell,” Draco grumbled; Granger was so annoying!
This became the norm for the next fourteen days and nights; Draco and Hermione would separate right after their patrols, sleep apart, then the next morning Draco would resist and suffer a near-paralyzing attack, only to be roughly attached to the Head Girl once again.

Hermione seemed to deal with the situation better than most expected; she was seen--by several students--chatting to Draco whilst he just frowned or rolled his eyes. Many believed Draco Malfoy absolutely hated being magically joined with Hermione Granger. They were correct in some ways, but what they didn't know was Draco's sour mood stemmed mostly from his worry over his parents' reactions to his situation--and Hermione was actually talking out loud to herself.

Neither had ever received a Howler, though Draco seemed to expect one; every morning Hermione felt him stiffen beside her at breakfast as they watched the daily post arrive. And each time nothing out of the ordinary came. Both received copies of The Daily Prophet every day, and once Hermione had gotten a letter from her cousin in Cornwall, but neither got the dreaded Howler.

*~*~*~*~*

Someone else, however, did receive one: Ginny Weasley. It was a rainy Friday morning, and the Great Hall was somewhat quiet; many students were too tired of talking about ‘Dramione’, so kept their heads bent over their plates as they ate.

However, twenty minutes after the last of the sausages arrived on the tables, a strange noise above their heads caused nearly everyone to look up.

Many gasped when Errol, the sad, old Weasley family owl, heaved himself through the open window in the Great Hall and crashed into poor Neville Longbottom as he sat quietly talking to Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. The red-haired girl stumbled over to help the owl and bit back a cry when she saw what was clutched in its beak. Gingerly, she retrieved the scarlet envelope and steeled herself for the worst.

It wasn't long in coming; Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice promptly echoed throughout the Great Hall:

"GINEVRA WEASLEY! DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING IT IS TO RECEIVE A NOTE FROM THE HEADMASTER ABOUT YOUR CONDUCT? I AM EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOUR BEHAVIOR! DO NOT BE A REPEAT OFFENDER OR STRAIGHT HOME YOU'LL COME! DON'T MAKE ME SEND ANOTHER OF THESE MESSAGES AGAIN!"

With that, the paper ripped itself into shreds, then burst into flaming nothingness.

"Well, Mum was in a good mood; that was much nicer than my Howler," Ron commented loudly for all to hear. Everyone broke into nervous giggles; Ron had received an awful Howler from Molly Weasley in his second year at Hogwarts for flying--then crashing--his father's bewitched Ford Anglia onto school grounds. No one had ever seen a Howler like that since--until now; Ginny's had come quite close.

Several students--including Hermione--looked at Ginny and wondered what the freckled girl could have done to receive such a scathing note. Did Ginny tell a teacher off? Had she trekked into the Dark Forest? Was she out of bed after curfew? The Great Hall was rife with speculation.

Hermione thought about the last statement a moment. It couldn't have been that, she told herself with a small shake of her head. Ginny doesn't have a boyfriend; she's still hung up on Harry. So why would she be out of bed--if not to meet a boy?

Suddenly, Hermione remembered the other evening; someone had been out of bed that night--the night Peeves went crazy on the 6th floor. It wasn't Ginny, was it? Hermione wondered silently, looking at her friends seated at the Gryffindor table; Ginny's face was ashen as Harry and Ron teased her.

Hermione had originally thought it had been Pansy Parkinson out in the hallway, but she and Draco quickly discovered Professor Dumbledore waiting for them. But what if it had been Ginny? a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind.

"Forget it," Hermione muttered under her breath; Draco made no comment. The only way Ginny could've gotten around that night was if she'd been invisi--

She stopped; the only person who could've been invisible was Harry. Or Ron. Or both. No one but Harry, Ron, Snape, Dumbledore, and herself knew about the Invisibility Cloak. And that list seems to grow a little more each year, she thought with a hollow laugh, glaring at Harry and Ron.

She was almost certain now that one or both boys had been under the invisibility cloak that night, though Hermione had originally boasted that she believed a girl--Pansy Parkinson--had been lurking around. The Head Girl cringed inwardly; she hated feeling unsure of anything and mentally braced herself for the moment Draco pointed out how wrong she'd been.

Hermione looked over at Draco; he was sitting very still and looking down at his lap. His jaw was rigid and his eyes were hardened. "What in the...?" Hermione muttered, stretching her neck a bit to see what Draco was looking at.

As if suddenly remembering he wasn't alone, Draco's eyes snapped to Hermione's face. "What's your problem?" he demanded roughly, his left hand jerking out of sight.

"Malfoy," she began, ignoring his harsh tone, "what's that you got there?"

Draco glared at Hermione. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying 'Curiosity killed the cat'?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued with a small sneer: "What I do on my time is none of your bloody business, Granger."

"My, my. What's the twitchy little ferret trying to hide?" Hermione asked sarcastically, quickly covering her slight embarrassment at being spoken to in such a tone. "Is dear Mummy cutting off your allowance?"

In response, Draco growled and shoved Hermione's plate of eggs and bacon to the floor. The entire Great Hall fell silent as the resounding clang echoed throughout the room.

The Head Boy suddenly jumped to his feet and angrily strode out of the Great Hall, dragging the Head Girl with him; he either did not hear her loud protests or was pointedly ignoring them.

Ron and Harry had stood up, outraged, but Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas held them back. The Gryffindors watched helplessly as the joined pair disappeared from view. The Great Hall immediately exploded with conversation; everyone wanted to know just what was going on between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"That was completely embarrassing," Ginny Weasley complained to Luna Lovegood later that evening as they met in the Entrance Hall before their detention. She had been mortified down to her toes over the Howler. Thank Merlin her mother hadn't mentioned specifics, or Ginny would've really gotten into hot water with Hermione.

Detention this evening was sure to be interesting; so far every night had been in some small way. Professor Dumbledore, having caught them under the invisibility cloak a few nights previous, understood their wanting to help Hermione; however, he told them, the Head Girl and Boy needed to help themselves first. He then politely informed Ginny and Luna that first they were to return to their dorms--with Ginny giving Harry's cloak back--then they would be joining him for four nights worth of detentions doing various odd jobs.

The first night, the girls had to polish all of the trophies in the Trophy Room, the second night they filed all of Professor Binns' test papers--a process that took nearly four hours, as he hadn't filed any papers since his death, and the third night Ginny and Luna had to write lines on the history of Dungbombs. This evening, their last, was sure to be one they wouldn't forget.

Luna shrugged and pulled an eagle quill from her blonde lock. "I wasn't mortified at all." She began to scribble some notes on a spare piece of parchment she’d extracted from her school robe. "Honestly, Ginevra, I don't know what all the fuss is about." She placed the quill and parchment back into their original places.

Ginny growled in frustration, startling three first year Ravenclaws who were strolling past. "Get a move on!" she grunted at them. "Bloody first years," Ginny muttered under her breath. "You'd think they never saw a person angry before."

"I think your Howler had something to do with that," Luna said serenely. "Pity."

"Pity? PITY?" Ginny's voice grew loud. She lowered it immediately, spying Professor McGonagall glaring at her as the formidable witch glided past. "How dare you pity me!" she whispered angrily at Luna. "If you had just told me what I wanted to know we might not have had to go sneaking around the school at night!"

"How do you suppose you would have separated Hermione and Draco without their notice?" Luna asked, her eyes widening slightly with curiousness. "I'd hardly describe the last few nights with Professor Dumbledore and one tiny Howler as being in real trouble, anyway."

"Tiny Howler?" Ginny gasped. "Were you even in the same room as the rest of us this morning at breakfast?”

Luna laughed as she recited the password to ascend to the Headmaster’s office. "Don't be silly," she replied lightly, climbing the steps that suddenly appeared. "Of course I was! Don't you remember saying hello to me? Anyway, you really ought to look to yourself, Ginevra; all of this could have been avoided had you carefully explained the situation to me in the first place. As hard as I try, I am not a mind reader, you know." The Ravenclaw knocked on the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway.

Grudgingly, Ginny admitted Luna was right; the Gryffindor really did not have anyone to blame but herself for the situation she was in; however, the redhead made a mental note to tell Harry that his stupid cloak didn't work properly.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Draco drawled, upon their return to the Common Room after evening patrols; it was the first time he'd spoken civilly to her since his outburst in the Great Hall. "Don't you have to write fifteen rolls of parchment for McGonagall or something?"

Hermione had been a little disconcerted through the day, as she was mere inches from him and yet he said nothing to her. Was that a good thing? she wondered. Hermione wasn't certain; she enjoyed the silence and didn't miss his scathing remarks, but part of her was hoping he'd say something--anything--to break the awkward silence.

Ironically, she chose to ignore the remark. "Peeves was particularly naughty this evening," she murmured, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the box of candy. "I wonder where all of that blue ink came from?"

"Who cares?" Draco shrugged, taking two from Hermione and popping them into his mouth. "He didn't dump it on us, so why worry?"

Hermione shot Draco a surprised look as they separated. "And I suppose seeing those two Ravenclaw third years doused in ink was amusing?"

"Let me think..." Draco tapped his chin. "Yes?"

"You're horrid."

"Can you blame me, Granger?" Draco snorted, loosening his tie. "They were out of bed past curfew and snogging behind a statue! If that's not asking for trouble--"

Hermione cut him off. "You'd just taken 10 points from them! Peeves had no right!" Her eyes flashed angrily.

"Peeves had every right!" Draco shot back, removing his school robe and flinging it--hard--across the room. "I say he didn't do enough!"

"Oh? Why is that?"

"A pureblood lowers himself by kissing a mudblood," Draco replied sourly. "That boy deserved more than we gave him."

"I suppose being Death Eater isn't lowering?" Hermione asked quietly, her temper rising.

"What do you know about being pureblood or a Death Eater?" Draco snapped, kicking his shoes off savagely. "You're just a girl who delights at playing a witch."

Hermione placed her hand on her hip, and craned her neck around to give him her meanest glare. "I know that being a Death Eater means losing your sense of self--and that killing becomes a sport for those who follow V-Voldemort!"

Draco flinched slightly upon Hermione's brave use of the Dark Lord's name, but he quickly recovered and shouted, "My father is not like that!" His face flamed red, indicating he was either very angry--or very embarrassed.

"I wasn't talking about your father," Hermione replied softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course not," Draco said suddenly, shrugging her off; his voice sounded oddly like he'd eaten gobs of spun sugar. "I don't know what came over me." He then stomped off toward his chamber. He needed a shower badly; Granger was making him get all worked up over something so bloody ridiculous!

He was taken aback momentarily when he caught sight of her sad face just before he slammed his bedroom door behind him. What was the matter with her? he wondered, stomping away. She was acting like she cared!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Fourteen days.

Draco didn't want to think about it, but he and Hermione had been stuck together for nearly fourteen long and difficult days.

Neither had figured out a way to free themselves from the wretched curse placed upon them by Hogwarts' Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore. They only thing Draco and Hermione had accomplished was to bicker like two old witches over the last copy of Lockhart's Magical Me on a shelf in Flourish and Blotts.

Draco had grown quite tired of sleeping like a animal on the floor of their Common Room. He was disgusted by the short break once a day to take care of personal matters and sickened by the stares and laughter from his Slytherin house mates.

He was most especially worried about that letter he received from his father.

"It has come to my attention that you have been fraternizing with a Mudblood; I certainly hope that this rumor is untrue and that someone has misidentified Miss Parkinson..."

How could anyone mistake Granger for Pansy Parkinson? Draco scoffed inwardly. One was so much more beautiful and poised than the other...

Although, he noted wryly, Pansy--as of late--had refrained from making anymore cruel comments since the day Weasleby made her lose her hair.

The Slytherin girl, who always fawned over Draco and was a favorite in his parents' household, was now giving him wide berth, though she still seemed to be in nearly every place he looked. Was she watching him in order to get more information to pass along to the other Slytherins, or was she jealous in some twisted way?

At this moment, Draco didn't care; Pansy had proven herself unworthy of his attentions when she turned her back on him after his father's second arrest. What would Father think about that? Draco wondered with a scowl.

He noticed Pansy had also taken to avoiding Ron Weasley, even though Madame Pomfrey had given Pansy a potion to correct her premature hair loss.

Draco smiled in the darkness, then scolded himself. The gangly redhead had not been defending him--certainly not the son of his father's enemy--from Pansy Parkinson; Weasleby had upheld Granger's honor.

Granger's honor, he scoffed silently. Yeah, right.

A small part of him had to admit that Hermione had been able to uphold her own honor. Wasn't Thursday's spectacle proof enough that the Head Girl could take care of herself? Draco's thoughts strayed back to that embarrassing moment...

Three first year Slytherins had set off Dungbombs in the Entrance Hall right after dinner; Hermione had scolded them and docked them ten points a piece, before Argus Filch had rounded them up and carted them off to see Professor Snape. Draco, feeling obligated to save face in the eyes of his Slytherin comrades, haughtily informed Hermione that they shouldn't have any points taken away.

"They're new students and probably didn't know the rules," he'd argued, crossing his arms.

"Is that so?" Hermione had shot back, as a small crowd had begun to gather around them. "How very interesting, since Professor Dumbledore warned everyone of the rules just two weeks ago--and one of those first years was in trouble yesterday for the same offense!"

"Your curls must be wound too tight," Draco had informed her with a sneer. "None of those students got into trouble yesterday."

"Of course they did, you stupid little ferret! Youwere the one who took five points from him last night! Or are you so thick that you can't remember?"

The giggling from the gawking crowd enveloped Draco and caused instant mortification. "How was it that he didn't remember something so simple?" someone whispered loudly. "Had Malfoy really forgotten or was he hoping that Granger would stand by meekly and not say anything, therefore making him look better?"

Draco had gone red in the face with embarrassment; he tried to dash off to hide his abashment, but Hermione had proved too quick for him; she'd already whipped out her wand and placed a temporary Sticking Charm on her shoes. Draco jerked to a halt, turned and glared at the Head Girl; obviously she learned quickly that the Head Boy took flight when embarrassed and had grown tired of being dragged off--at the worst times--like an dog.

The shrieks of laughter and clapping at this scene burned Draco's ears. The loudest guffaws and cheering had come from Potter and Weasley, who'd doubled over and had needed support from Longbottom.

I'll fix them, Draco swore silently to the darkness. They'll wish they'd never laughed at me.

At that moment, Draco noticed two house elves near the fireplace. Draco quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He knew from watching them over the last few nights, that one would stoke the dying fire and the other would straighten the Head Girl and Boy's rooms.

He saw the looks of pity on the house elves faces when they passed his bed. How dare they pity him--a Malfoy! House elves shouldn't feel sympathy; they should know fear!

One stooped down to pick up a stray sock, but immediately lifted its head to look at Draco. Even through his lashes, Draco could see the wide-eyed gaze of the little house elf upon him. He held his breath momentarily, waiting to see what would happen next.

To his relief, nothing further occurred. The house elf turned away and continued going about its business. After their work was complete, the elves vanished as quietly as they had arrived.

He groaned and threw one hand over his eyes. It was just before dawn on the fifteenth day--Saturday. He was extremely tired, but he couldn't sleep; how could he? Draco was about to be attached to a Mudblood whom he despised--someone who was best friends with Scarhead and Weasle--two people he liked even less than Hermione.

Wait, Draco thought suddenly, does this mean I...like Granger...if--if only a little? His stomach churned at the thought. Bloody hell; I think I may be ill.

He was finding it easy to hate her because of her hair, choice of friends, and parentage. Certainly she defied him at nearly every turn, made him crazy with her incessant ramblings on schoolwork--and her attempts to speak to her blasted friends just wasn't his cup of tea--yet sometimes she stood up for him or tried to carry on a decent conversation, despite the fact that he ignored her or insulted her.

Was the Head Girl trying to be friendly because of the situation they were in? Perhaps she was going mad. What if there were another reason? Draco wondered silently.

It was in that brief moment Draco realized that he had been going about this unfortunate circumstance all wrong; he should use this situation to his advantage. Being nice to the Mudblood suddenly seemed like an interesting idea--despite the revolted feeling lurking in the pit of his stomach.

Oh, the possibilities, Draco thought with a slow smile, looking down on Hermione's sleeping form. Father may not like it at first, but I'm almost certain it won't take him long to.... Draco's thoughts trailed off as he reached for his schoolbag. But first things first; what I need is a really good spell.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She was dreaming.

Viktor Krum was sitting on her bed. Ron and Harry were in the room also and told her to get some sleep--they were going to rest on the floor. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but no sound came out. Viktor smiled at her and leaned forward for a kiss, but instantly turned into Draco Malfoy! Suddenly, she was sitting on top of Draco and kissing him, not caring that her two best friends were just feet away...

At that moment, Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway, looking affronted, but Draco tells him, "It's all right, Father; Harry and Ron said so!"

Then the dream changed; Hermione was at a wedding. Pansy Parkinson, a bridesmaid, kept laughing at her and chanting "Dramione", so Hermione punched the Slytherin girl in the mouth. She would have hurt Pansy further, but the Minister of Magic appeared and told her he was Draco's grandfather.

He offered her some Floo Powder so Hermione could get back to Hogwarts. The fireplace she wanted to use was broken in half and it took her several minutes to find another.

Just as she was about to fling some Floo Powder into the fire, Professor Dumbledore's face appeared in the flames. He said to her, "Cooperation is the key."

Hermione, annoyed, picked up a handful of bronze Knuts and threw them at Dumbledore's face. She then got up and opened a portrait hole, letting several Gryffindor students out into the hallway. Beyond the door, Draco sat looking at a book.

Hermione tried to move towards him, but something was pulling her back...

Hermione opened her eyes. Someone was right outside the door muttering something! Was it a house-elf? Cautiously, Hermione crept out of bed; she didn’t want to scare the poor thing, though she did want to speak to it!

Slowly she opened her door, curious to see if perhaps, by some small chance, that Winky was out there. Hermione wanted to try talking to Winky once more, since the very last time didn’t work out well.

Hermione pressed one eye to the slit in the door. She stifled a gasp; Draco Malfoy was standing there--wand at the ready!

For one small moment, Hermione believed she was still sleeping; she had to be. But rationalization quickly took over. This is not a dream! And why on earth would Draco be standing outside my door? Is he tryg to kill me? she wondered.

Hermione knew that was ridiculous; Draco would be caught within moments!

Just then, the unbidden image of Draco trying to get into her room to kiss intruded on her musings. Grimacing slightly, she quickly banished the thought and tried to think of something else. She was quite disgusted with herself. Snogging Draco?! Hermione blanched inwardly. Oh, Merlin, no! I'd rather snog a mandrake. She was mortified at her thoughts and vowed never to reveal them to anyone--not even Ginny.

Suddenly, she found her voice. “What are you doing?” Hermione flinched, for even she hadn’t expected her voice to be so loud.

Surprised, Draco dropped his book an his foot. “Bloody hell!” he grunted, scooping up the tome and glaring at Hermione. “What are you doing up?”

“I asked you first.” Hermione crossed her arms, holding the door open with her foot.

Draco sighed, defeated. “I was trying to get into your room.”

Hermione blanched, her blood running cold. “What?!”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself;” Draco retorted, rolling his eyes. “I want those candies. I was trying to be quiet, I don’t know how you heard me.”

“No, Malfoy! You heard what Dumbledore said! Besides, I put a charm on my door every night before I go to bed.

“Now you really are flattering yourself; trust me, Granger, you don’t have to worry about me ravishing you in the middle of the night. I’d rather snog a madrake!”

Hermione bit her lip; Draco felt the same way about Madrakes, did he?

“Well, you can’t have those candies,” she replied haughtily. “I don’t want to be stuck to you while your having...bowel problems.”

Draco said nothing, only gave her a glare in return. Afterwards he stomped away--going back to his own dorm, slamming the door once more.

With a shiver, Hermione closed her door, feeling a little sad; why wouldn’t Draco want to snog her?

“Ew!” she cried suddenly; why did she even wonder such a horrible thing?

Or was it?

Quickly turning her thoughts to something more pleasant, Hermione began looking forward to later today, when some of the students planned on going to Hogsmeade after breakfast. She and Draco had exchanged a few words of interest last night in going along with a group of seventh years...

"I'd like to go, Malfoy," Hermione had stated, after Draco scoffed how ridiculous it would look if they went to Hogsmeade joined at the hip.

"Fine, Granger, you can go, but I refuse to set foot in that place--everyone will see us together like this!"

Hermione had laughed. "Everyone has seen us together, you dolt!"

Draco had looked away. "I meant those other than the students and teachers," he'd muttered.

A knowing expression had spread across Hermione's features. "I see. You're worried someone will tell your father of our...situation." Draco's silence indicated that she had been correct. "Perhaps we can ask Professor Dumbledore to separate us for a short time--if we explain to him your concerns."

Draco's face had turned to outrage. "Sure, Granger. Let's tell ol' Dumbledore how scared I am of my daddy! Is that what you want? I'd sooner die."

"Are you?"

"What--dying? Don't be stupid."

"No! I meant...scared."

"Of course not!" The look Draco had given her nearly made Hermione laugh again.

"It's settled, then; we'll go over to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Hermione had stated firmly, and Draco said nothing further about the matter.

Hermione had mentally planned all the places she'd wanted to visit: Scrivenshaft's--for a new quill, Gladrags Wizardwear--for a pair of warm, fuzzy socks to send to her cousin, and Honeydukes--for Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans; she knew she wasn't really supposed to eat them, as her dentist-parents would likely disapprove, but Hermione just couldn't resist.

In all, she was looking forward to getting away from Hogwarts for a somewhat relaxing day--despite the fact that Malfoy would be in tow.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I can't go to Hogsmeade!" Ginny Weasley wailed to her brother, Ron, and his best friend, Harry Potter; they trio were sitting in front of the fireplace just before breakfast. Harry, Ron, and even Neville Longbottom tried to cheer the red-haired girl, but she was inconsolable; today she and Luna would have to serve the last of their week's detention with Dumbledore.

"There's always tomorrow," Ron said awkwardly, patting his sister's arm.

"Yeah," said Neville, "it's kind of nice to be able to get a full weekend to visit Hogsmeade."

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, but I wonder why?"

Ron shrugged. "Something to do with the special assembly on Monday, I s'pose."

"Hmm," Harry muttered. "I wonder if Voldemort's on the move and Dumbledore wants to give us a warning?" He rolled his eyes when his friends cringed.

"Just stop it," Harry scoffed. "How can you three possibly be worried about a name when you've gone up against Death Eaters?"

No one said anything for a moment; Harry was right, and each one knew it. Besides, Ron thought, the whole town will be crawling with members of the Order to make certain nothing happens to Harry. Ron looked over at his best friend with just a tinge of envy.

At that moment, a second year approached them; she was wearing a rather large red knit sweater and faded jeans that looked a little too short. The girl gave them an anxious smile, but kept looking at the floor.

"Excuse me," the young, auburn-haired girl squeaked. "Please pardon my interruption."

Ron rolled his eyes and Ginny raised an eyebrow. Neville stiffened beside Harry, causing Harry to wonder, when was everyone's obsession with 'The Boy Who Lived' going to come to an end?

"Yes?" Harry asked politely, giving the girl a weary smile; he hoped she wasn't going to ask him to sign her jumper or anything.

"I was--I was hoping you could, um..."

Ron snickered and Harry's heart sank. "What do you want me to sign?" he asked with a heavy sigh.

The girl looked taken aback. "Oh no!" she trilled lightly. "You don't have to sign anything." She smiled broadly when Harry sighed with relief. "I was wondering--since you are friends with her--if you could pass a message along to Hermione Granger?"

Ginny blinked. "She's the Head Girl; surely you could talk to her any time."

The girl shook her long reddish locks. "Not with him nearby; I don't particularly care for him. Not after he...” her voice died away as she looked at the wall beyond Harry’s head.

It was quite clear to whom the girl was referring: Draco Malfoy.

“Wh-what did he do?” Neville asked, sitting up straighter, curiousity and concern crossing his features.

The girl looked at him blankly. “What? Oh, I--nevermind. It’s nothing.”

Clearly she didn’t want to speak about it, so Harry nodded and said, "Sure, we'll tell Hermione whatever you're going to say. What's your name, by the way?"

"Anya Borgin."

"N-Not any relation to the Borgin of Knockturn Alley, by any chance?" Harry asked slowly.

Anya blushed. "He's my Great Uncle; I don't like him either. He was a Ravenclaw, by the way; many people seem to think my family have always been from Slytherin."

"So sorry," Ron commiserated. He shot a look at Harry that clearly said 'This is awkward.'

Anya nodded her thanks and continued. "I'd like to join S.P.E.W., if Hermione'd care to have me."

Ginny guffawed loudly; Anya turned her brown eyes onto the other girl questioningly.

"I think..." Harry said slowly his green eyes wide with amusement, "Ginny needs a drink of water." He brought up his wand to call out a spell, but the redhead waved her hand dismissively and moved over to one of the tables.

Anya stood silently for a moment, unsure of what to do or say next. After a long, awkward moment, she murmured her thanks and scooted out of the Common Room.

Ron and Harry burst into laughter then; Neville just looked at his feet. Hermione had been trying to get people to join The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare for ages, but no one--not a single person--had voluntarily signed up to help her cause. Anya Borgin sure was a strange one, Harry thought silently.

Ginny made her way back to the three boys. "Well, that was certainly entertaining," she snorted. "Are you going to pass the word along?"

"Absolutely," Harry nodded; he couldn't wait to see Hermione's face when he told her the news.

"Oh, I hate missing out on all the fun, but I guess it'll be all right to miss the first day," the freckle-faced girl sighed. "You three have to promise to keep an eye on Hermione for me."

Ron scowled, swinging his gaze toward his sister. "You don't have to ask us to do that. We were planning on doing that ourselves, right, Harry?"

"Of course. Neville, you wanna join us?"

Neville smiled sheepishly. "I, um, can't. I have something to do."

"Are you even going to Hogsmeade?" Ron queried.

Neville nodded. "Certainly; but I have, um, important business to take care of." At this, he got to his feet.

Harry and Ron looked amused. "Important business?" Harry repeated, bemused. "Who are you now--Hagrid?" Everyone laughed; it was well-known that Hagrid had gone into Hogsmeade several times under the guise of taking care of 'important business'.

Neville chuckled, but turned beet red. "Um, no." He quickly changed the subject, turning to Ginny. "What does the Professor have you doing today?"

Ginny muttered something that sound quite like "snogging".

"Snogging!" Ron roared, leaping to his feet. "Who does Dumbledore want you to snog? Luna? Him?" He looked ready to commit murder; even Harry and Neville looked shocked.

Despite her sadness, Ginny burst into laughter. "Don't be a prat, Ronald!" she scolded. "I didn't say 'snogging'! Gee, you really ought to go to Madame Pomfrey and have your hearing checked." Her gaze fell upon Harry and Neville. "All three of you!"

"Well, what did you say, then?" Harry pressed; Ron and Neville leaned closer to Ginny.

The freckle-faced girl shook her head. "I'm not telling; but you'll probably find out sooner than I'd like. Anyway, I'm going to breakfast." She got up from her chair and left the Common Room, leaving behind three very confused Gryffindors.

"You didn't tell anyone we were meeting here, did you?" a feminine voice whispered from behind a statue Professor Narwick--the eighth headmaster of Hogwarts--located on the first floor.

Neville Longbottom shook his head and brushed a few toast crumbs from his shirt. "Um, no, I didn't tell anyone. Why'd you want to meet here anyway?" he asked, puzzled. "Aren't we going to see each other in Hogsmeade later?"

"Of course," came the reply. "I'm going incognito in a few minutes; it'll be fun! But, Neville, I have something to tell you--something I couldn't keep to myself any longer."

"Is--is everything all right?" he asked nervously. When there came no prompt reply, he continued. "Please come out so I can talk to you properly; I must look ten kinds of ridiculous standing here talking to a statue," Neville said with a sigh.

The girl sighed in exasperation. Instead, she reached around the statue, grabbed Neville's shirt, and yanked him around Headmaster Narwick to face her.

It still shocked him that anyone could like him. The first time they met, while shopping in Flourish and Blotts two weeks ago, Anya and Neville had been interested in the same book: I Toad You So! What your pet is REALLY trying to say.... They began chatting and realized they were in the same House--and a few things in common. Before she was dragged off by her parents, however, Anya promised to send him an owl later that evening.

Neville didn't want to hold his breath, as who would be interested in talking to him? But true to her word, an owl arrived for him after dinner carrying a letter from Anya Borgin. His Gran had not been pleased, for she believed that anyone carrying the name of Borgin was trouble, but she hadn't put up too much more of a fuss, so Neville had been relieved.

From that day, the two conversed via owl post; it was more difficult for Anya, as her parents monitored her mail, but somehow she managed to develop a friendship with him without suspicion.

When they'd caught up with one another on the Hogwarts Express, one thing led to another and soon, Neville and Anya had found themselves kissing in a quiet compartment--that is until Neville saw Luna Lovegood staring in at them in a very interested manner. Thankfully, Anya had not seen Luna, but Neville had been mortified.

"Shh! Someone's coming!" Anya and Neville flattened themselves against the base of the statue and watched in silence as Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger passed by, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts; the Head Boy and Girl disappeared around the corner as they headed toward the Great Hall.

The hidden pair waited two full minutes before speaking again.

"I feel very sorry for Hermione," Neville whispered sadly.

"So do I." There was a strange look upon Anya's face--one, Neville noted, of fear.

“You mentioned him earlier. What’s going on? Is this something I should know about?”

Anya closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. “I received something from him just before I boarded the Hogwarts Express.”

“What? And you didn’t tell me?”



“I couldn’t! I was too scared. Besides, I was glad for the distraction.”

Ignoring her attempt at humor, Neville blurted, “Anya, I don’t like seeing you upset; please tell me what’s wrong.”

“It was a scarab beetle!”

Neville looked confused, so Anya gave him a lengthy explanation; Draco had found her just before she boarded the Hogwarts Express...

“Anya Borgin?”

Anya had turned at the sound of her name, smiling broadly. “Yes?” Her face had fallen, however, when she saw Draco Malfoy standing in front of her. She knew Draco Malfoy was usually bent on causing trouble, so she felt it only right to be on guard.

“I’ve something for you, something I’m sure you’ll appreciate.” Draco drawled, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small black box. He thrust it out at her then walked away.

Curious, Anya had stared at the box for a moment. Does Draco Malfoy like me? she had wondered.It was well known that Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy had some sort of understanding, but anything was possible. Feeling a little giddy, Anya had opened the box, then gasped, tossing the the thing to the ground immediately.

Inside the box lay a gold scarab beetle brooch; according to Anya’s family, the scarab beetle meant that death was coming to the person who saw the tiny insect.

Anya had kicked the object as far from her as possible, then pushed her way onto the Hogwarts Express, fearing that Draco Malfoy was waiting for his chance to do away with her.

When nothing happened to her within the first week, Anya had dismissed the possibility of something horrible happening to her. She'd all but forgotten the incident; however, when the brooch showed up yesterday morning on her bedside table, Anya had panicked. This time the brooch was locked in her trunk.

Anya ended the story with a flourish. “Draco Malfoy wants me dead; I know it!”

Neville sat quietly for a few moments, absently watching students wander past. “It’s no secret that Draco’s father is a Death-Eater,” he began slowly. “And your uncle deals with items most wizards would say have dark magic properties. Maybe Draco is delivering some sort of message to you for your uncle.”

Anya was silent for a heartbeat before blurting, “Why didn’t he just go to my uncle? I don't talk to that man; he's made it very clear that he doesn't care for me. Why did Draco give that stupid brooch to me if it's meant for my uncle?"

Neville couldn’t give Anya an answer, but he had a suggestion. “Perhaps we should talk to the Headmaster about this.”

“No! I don’t want to be expelled for bringing a dark magic item into the school.”

“But Anya, you said it yourself; it just showed up here. You didn’t bring it!”

Exasperated, Anya replied, “I’ll show it to Professor Dumbledore on Monday. Right now, I just want to forget about it and try to enjoy what could be the last days of my life. Let's think about something else, please."

Neville looked down at the auburn haired girl. "Like what?"

"How about kissing me?" she replied breathlessly, throwing her arms around him.

Neville didn't need think twice about that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After breakfast, Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway leading to the courtyard, watching a group of fourth years join the growing number of Hogwarts students taking the trip to Hogsmeade.

I should be in that crowd, Ginny thought bitterly, standing right next to Harry.

Ginny stumbled forward slightly at that moment, as Pansy Parkinson and her band of Slytherin girls pushed past her to join Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini, all of whom stood directly behind Draco and Hermione.

The redhead's hand went to her wand in her pants pocket, but she held back, for Professor McGonagall came up behind her and put a hand on Ginny's shoulder, giving her a stern look.

With a sigh, Ginny decided to return to watching the crowd. She saw Draco Malfoy, who kept looking over his shoulder at Crabbe and Goyle, while her friend Hermione chatted with Ron and Harry. Ginny almost laughed aloud; she didn't need to be standing over there to know there was quite a bit of tension in the cool, crisp air.

Ginny's gaze swung back to Harry; he seemed down and she worried about him. Things seemed too quiet for him lately and many times over the last four weeks he expressed his concern; it had been obvious to everyone in the Burrow that if given the chance, Harry would have gone chasing after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in order to kill him. It had taken everyone--including Ginny's new sister-in-law, Fleur Delacour--to convince Harry to stay put.

And she was glad he did, for he'd kissed her silly the evening before they left for Hogwarts...

A small breeze kicked up a few fallen leaves that lay in a corner of the courtyard; a handful of students bundled their jackets closer to their bodies. Within the confines of the courtyard, the wind seemed tame, but many knew once they were out in the open, the breeze would be all the more harsh.

Ginny's mouth set mulishly as Argus Filch sneered at her as he passed, bent on collecting all the third years' permission forms. Professor McGonagall gave her usual "be on your best behavior" speech, then the crowd was off.

Harry--who'd spotted Ginny before he turned--gave her a sad smile and pressed his hand to his heart; she smiled sadly in return. Harry then joined Ron, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas and disappeared with the rest of the crowd.

Turning away from the courtyard, her heart heavy, Ginny wondered where Luna had gotten to; the Ravenclaw girl was supposed to meet Ginny in the Entrance Hall right after breakfast.

Instead, she saw the Headmaster exiting the Great Hall with Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Dumbledore, having spotted Ginny, nodded his goodbyes to the Charms and Herbology teachers before turning to Ginny.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore called as he approached. "I thought I might find you here. You've lost Miss Lovegood, I presume?"

Ginny looked at the Headmaster, confused. "I haven't seen Luna at all this morning, sir."

"How odd. She was in the Great Hall just moments ago; but then again, it could have been an hour previous," Professor Dumbledore smiled good-naturedly. "Time seems to pass by so swiftly for me these days."

"Sir," Ginny piped up, "you wouldn't...consider allowing Luna and I go to Hogsmeade today and we'll just...see you tomorrow?" She looked up at the Headmaster hopefully; if he agreed, she could surprise Harry!

Dumbledore chuckled. "Somehow I knew you would ask that." He thought for a moment then said, "How do you think Miss Lovegood would feel if you volunteered her time for tomorrow? After all, the two of you were to meet me today to practice for Monday and she may have plans."

"Oh, sir, must we?" Ginny pleaded. She didn't want to have to go through with the last part of her detention; it was just too embarrassing.

"A deal is a deal, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore returned lightly. "You'll only have one day to learn the--," he paused, folding his hands. "If you'd like, I could reinstate the arrangements made with Mr. Filch to give Mrs. Norris--"

"NO!" Ginny cried. She cleared her throat and said in a normal tone, "No, sir, please don't." The very thought of bathing and grooming Mrs. Norris made Ginny want to vomit.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Very well then. Now about Miss Lovegood..."

Ginny snorted lightly. "Excuse me, Professor, but perhaps she forgot." She seems the type, Ginny thought inwardly, with a small roll of her eyes.

Albus Dumbledore raised his eyebrow at Ginny before sighing heavily and closing his eyes for several long moments. The redhead began to wonder if the Headmaster had actually fallen asleep whilst standing upright, when suddenly the wizard's eyes popped open.

"I believe I must have a small conversation with Miss Lovegood when I see her," Dumbledore said cryptically. He looked down at Ginny over the rim of his half-moon spectacles and smiled. "Why don't you run along to Hogsmeade today; I'll see you tomorrow."

Ginny didn't need further prodding, she turned to race back to the Gryffindor Common Room to get her coat, but stopped short. "Professor," she began tentatively, "what about Luna? If I see her on my way out, should I tell her she can go too?"

"Oh, to be sure, Ginevra, you'll see Miss Lovegood in Hogsmeade." His eyes twinkled with mirth.

Ginny frowned slightly; she hated when Dumbledore spoke in riddles. When the Headmaster turned away, she shrugged and did the same, not giving anything but Hogsmeade--and Harry--another thought.

Draco drummed his fingers impatiently on the countertop of Gladrags Wizardwear; he sighed loudly once more to show his boredom and displeasure, but Hermione seemed not to notice.



The frizzy-haired witch was intently studying three different pairs of socks; she rubbed them, stretched them, and held each one up to the lamp light.



Draco had wanted to strangle Hermione with a pair of socks the moment they'd stepped into Gladrags; she'd told him they were going to "nip in there for a moment", but Draco soon realized what a lie that was.



The girl had found something wrong with nearly every pair of socks placed in front of her!



He couldn't believe it took close to forty-five minutes to choose--and purchase--a pair of damned socks. Granger had looked over nearly four dozen pairs before narrowing it down to the three in front of her.



"Too small," she'd stated. "Too fuzzy." "Too large." "Too flashy." Hermione had an excuse for almost all the socks the shopkeeper showed her.



I would have just grabbed the first damned pair I laid eyes on, Draco thought moodily. Shopping with Hermione Granger is a nightmare!



Hermione's stillness over the final three choices was really bothering Draco. "God, Granger," Draco sneered. "They're just socks. Pick one and let's get the bloody hell out of here." He wanted to get back to Hogwarts with the utmost quickness; Draco was already tired of the odd looks from the witches and wizards they'd passed on the street--and they'd only been in Hogsmeade for two hours.



"I will not!" Hermione snapped at him, her eyes flashing. "These socks are for my cousin and I'd like them to be comfortable as well as durable." She laid her hands on the middle pair--red and gold argyle knee socks--and looked at the shopkeeper with a smile. "I'll take these," she said, handing the woman a silver Sickle.



The witch behind the counter wrapped Hermione's purchase, giving Draco a small frown. She was used to impatient students from Hogwarts, but this one seemed to take the cake. She handed the brown paper-wrapped socks to Hermione and murmured, "Have a nice day, dear."



Draco and Hermione exited the shop and made their way over to Scrivenshafts, much to Draco's displeasure. He'd had hoped Granger would have forgotten her resolve to go, but away they went--and him following along like a little dog.



He felt quite ridiculous, but knew that cooperation was the only way out of their situation. How they'd achieve that was beyond Draco, but he swore to himself that he'd give it a try--no matter how horrid and disgusting it might seem.



What am I supposed to do, anyway? Draco growled inwardly. Am I supposed to get down on one knee and spout Shakespearean poetry--or swear undying loyalty to her? Never!



His thoughts were interrupted when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Scarhead and Weasleby ducking into an alcove. Draco's gaze narrowed a bit and he opened his mouth to say something to Hermione, but thought better of it--at least until he could figure out what those two were up to.



They passed Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, who were standing outside Scrivenshafts. They were spying on him and Hermione! Draco deducted. They all were!



He wanted to tell them off, but decided now wasn't the best time--especially not in such a public place; someone might report to his father what they'd seen.



Thankfully, Hermione didn't take long to decide what she wanted to purchase in Scrivenshafts, as the only thing she'd needed was a replacement quill and another bottle of ink.



"Can't we just go back to Hogwarts?" Draco asked as casually as possible once they'd exited the shop.



Hermione sighed. "Malfoy, honestly! You need to relax a little; I thought you'd want to get away from all the snickers and stares of the students at Hogwarts!"



Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "we're not getting any looks from the folks in Hogsmeade; none at all."



"Good," Hermione replied, not really paying attention. "That would be quite embarrassing otherwise, wouldn't it?"



They moved to the front of Honeydukes Sweet Shop, which was bustling with activity. Hogwarts' students and adults alike were buzzing around the entrance, their pockets filled with all sorts of sweets, laughing and chatting about their favorite treats.



Hermione, who normally shied away from candy because her dentist parents frowned upon it, grinned broadly--her eyes lighting up at the Halloween candy display in the shop window.



Draco was taken aback momentarily, surprised at the childlike wonder on Hermione's face. Involuntarily, he found himself smiling along with her.



She's actually quite nice to look at when she's not being so angry or stuck up, Draco thought absently, his gaze softening the tiniest of bits. What interesting eyes--and those lips...



A stray lock of brown hair had escaped Hermione's wool cap, and Draco brought his hand up to to brush it away, but caught himself. Immediately, he felt as though someone had tossed a bucket of iced water on him; his insides lurched painfully. What am I saying? his brain screeched. WHAT AM I DOING?



At that moment, Hermione's gaze shifted from the window to Draco. When she saw the odd look upon his face, Hermione's gasped.



"Is-is everything all right?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly and her skin prickling under Draco's penetrating gaze.



The Head Boy blinked a few times, as though realizing where he was and what was happening and replied, "Yeah, sure." He coughed uncomfortably and smoothed his white-blonde hair back. "Er, did you want to go inside?" He jerked his head towards Honeydukes.



A loud noise from behind them caused both Hermione and Draco to jump in alarm and look around. There, not five feet away, stood Pansy Parkinson with Draco's usual gang of Slytherins. Every one of them had an amused sneer on their face; it was obvious they'd witnessed the awkward moment between the Head Boy and Girl.



"What's so funny?" Draco growled, determined not to turn red with embarrassment. Absently, he grabbed the back of Hermione's coat when she attempted to step forward and confront Pansy. "Come to laugh at us some more?"



"Why, Draco, I'm hurt," Pansy purred, slithering forward like a snake. "How could you think I'd laugh at you?" She glanced sideways at Hermione and continued, "Her, perhaps, but certainly not you!"



"That's odd!" Hermione burst out, not noticing that Draco had gone quiet. "You did quite a bit of laughing at him the other day! Do I need to remind you of when that was?"



"You shut your mouth, Mudblood!" Pansy hissed, rounding on Hermione. "You're not part of this conversation!"



"That's a bit ridiculous, don't you think, Pansy?" Draco finally spoke up, his tome quite cool. "After all, Hermione and I are--in so many words--one person right now. Whatever important thing you believe you have to say will just have to be said in front of her."



Hermione shot Draco a curious look, but said nothing. Is he finally getting it? she asked herself. Is Draco Malfoy actually learning how to be...cooperative?



At those thoughts, a shiver shot through Draco and Hermione. A strange suctioning noise began to build, growing louder and louder with each passing second. Several passersby stopped in their tracks to look at Draco and Hermione, who begun to rise a few inches off the ground.



"What's happening?!" Draco shouted over the sound. Hermione, who was just as bewildered, merely shook her head in fright; she had no explanation for once.



When the noise grew to near deafening proportions and many shops emptied out onto to the road to get a look, the spectacle ended. With a loud pop, the Head Girl and Boy fell away from one another, landing in the dirt with a THUD.



There were several moments of eerie silence. Suddenly, many who'd witnessed the awesome display clapped and cheered, thinking Hermione and Draco had just put on a show. Most people went back to their business, but Pansy, her fellow Slytherins, and a few others remained rooted to their spots, unable to believe what they'd just seen.



Slowly Draco got to his feet. Automatically, he put out a hand to help Hermione up. When they stood facing one another, each looked thoroughly confused.



Hermione spoke first. "It's too soon for our fifteen minute reprieve," she said slowly. "Why are we apart?"



"Maybe the spell wore off?" Draco asked hopefully. "You know, it was a timed thing?"



With a shake of her head, Hermione replied, "That can't be; Professor Dumbledore said we had to break the spell."



"Well, maybe it's defective," Draco snorted. "And there's only one way to find out for sure."



When Hermione tilted her head and gazed at him quizzically, Draco grinned and shouted, "Run!"



Each took off like a shot, galloping away in opposite directions, garnering even more shocked looks and comments from onlookers. When each had moved more than one hundred feet away from the other--and didn't get pulled back together by magic, they knew the spell was no more.



Draco and Hermione ran back toward one another, laughing. "We did it!" Draco shouted, lifting Hermione off the ground and spinning her around. "I don't know how, but this feels great!"



Hermione, still chuckling, panted, "It certainly does! Wait until Harry and Ron see this!"



"We all ready have."



Hermione spun around to see Harry and Ron standing to the left of Pansy and the small group of Slytherins, each boy looking quite cross.



"Oh, Harry!" Hermione gushed, racing up to the dark-haired boy with the round glasses. "I'm free! Isn't that wonderful?"



"Sure it is," Ron replied instead, his tone quite flat. "But what in blazes was going on there just before that?" His tone became quite accusing, which confused Hermione.



"What are you talking about?"



Pansy stepped forward at this. "We saw the two of you, Granger," she retorted angrily, her eyes flashing. "You two looked like you were about to have some sort of pathetic romantic moment; it was quite disgusting if you ask me."



Several people nodded, including Ron. Harry, however, made no sound or movement; he kept his steely gaze upon Draco.



"What's your problem, Potter?" Draco spat, stepping close to Harry. "Are you angry because you couldn't spend the kind of time I did with Granger?"



Harry growled and pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket; Draco did the same.



"Stop it!" Hermione shouted, quickly stepping between Harry and Draco. She looked at the Head Boy and said calmly, "Draco, thank you for helping me break the spell, but now I think we should go about the day with our friends." She gave him a pleading look, as though to tell him not to argue.



Draco frowned, but inclined his head; he gave Hermione one last odd look, then turned on his heel and walked away. The small band of Slytherins, still led by Pansy, followed suit.



Hermione gazed after him, feeling a sense of loss, but couldn't say why that was.



*~*~*~*~*



Neville looked around Madame Puddifoot's in silent wonder. Why Anya wanted to come in here was beyond him; he though someplace like The Hogs Head would have been more appropriate, as not too many students went there--meaning they'd have less of a chance being spotted together.



The golden cherubs are little tacky, Neville thought with a frown. "Anya," he whispered to his girlfriend, "tell me why we're here again?"



Anya looked at him over the rim of her teacup. "I like the tea," she murmured. "Besides, I think someone was following us."



"Who?" Neville craned his neck to look around the shop.



"Don't look!" Anya scolded, snatching his shirt and turning him around to face her. "But if you must know, I think your friend Looney Lovegood is lurking outside."



Neville frowned, wanting to turn in his seat, but thought better of it. "Luna has detention with Ginny today; she can't be here in Hogsmeade."



Anya raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, maybe you can explain why Luna and Ginny are now outside the window, apparently arguing."



This time, Neville did turn around. He was taken aback at the sight of his two friends just beyond the slightly frosted window, speaking to one another. While Luna appeared to be calm and collected, Ginny was gesturing wildly and pacing back and forth.



"Perhaps I should go and talk to them," Neville said, rising from his chair; he hated when his friends didn't get along.



"Oh, Neville, please don't!" Anya cried, tugging on his sleeve. "I don't want them to see us; I'm...just not ready for that."



Neville sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "Anya, I like you, really I do," he began slowly, "but this sneaking around is killing me!"



Anya lowered her eyes. "I know; it's hurts me too, but I worry about what my parents will say if they know I have a boyfriend!" she paused then added, "You do realize Luna's father owns The Quibbler?"



Neville stared at Anya blankly. "And that has to do with us, how?"



With a deep quivering sigh, Anya replied, "She's probably spying on us so she can tell her father--and he'll put it in his paper!" Tears began to form in her eyes.



Neville sat down. "Do your parents even read The Quibbler?" he asked gently, handing Anya a napkin.



The red-haired girl dabbed at her eyes. "No, but they know people who do, and I just get so worried! I don't want to leave Hogwarts--or you!"



Neville swatted at one of the golden cherubs that began circling his head, tossing pink confetti onto him. "Would it make you feel any better if I talked to Luna?"



Anya gasped and shook her head violently. "Please don't," she whispered.



Scooting his chair closer to Anya, Neville took the girl's frail hand and said in a low voice, "I care about you very much, Anya. But what about you? Do you trust me?"



Anya sniffled, but nodded her head.



"Then let me take care of this, all right?" Neville gave Anya a meaningful look. The girl smiled, then leaned in close to kiss her boyfriend, not caring at all that the little golden cherub was dumping pink confetti into her teacup.

"What are you doing here?!" Ginny hollered at Luna, who was standing outside Madame Puddifoot's, peering into the frosted window. She was wearing a wool cap that looked much like an yellow upside-down Muggle ice cream cone, with a fuzzy red ball on the tip.

Luna half turned, her butterbeer-cap earrings swinging, and gave Ginny a quick glance before going back to the window. "Oh, hello, Ginevra. I was wondering when you'd find me."

The casualness in Luna's voice nearly drove Ginny over the edge. "I've looked everywhere for you, only to find you here? Do you realize you nearly got us into trouble? Dumbledore was expecting us today--or did you forget?" Her tone was accusing.

The oddly-dressed blonde girl was intently peering into the glass. "Actually, I had forgotten, but that's neither here nor there."

Ginny blinked, surprised. "Neither here nor-- Are you out of your mind?" Trying to keep from throttling Luna was going to be very difficult indeed.

Luna finally turned away from the window to face Ginny. "Some would say that," she sighed. "But you're here now, so the Headmaster can't be too angry."

"He said he's going to have a talk with you," Ginny smirked, crossing her arms.

Luna's blonde brow arched quizzically. "Is that all? I'm not worried; why are you?"

Ginny gave Luna a look of disbelief. "Let me think," she replied sarcastically, "I suppose it could be because of what we have to do in front of the entire school on Monday morning!" Ginny panted heavily, fear evident on her face.

A fourth-year couple exited Madame Puddifoot's, giving Ginny and Luna curious glances. When Ginny told them to "Shove off," they scurried away quickly.

Luna smiled, her eyes twinkling in the midday sun. "Oh, that. It's a magic beyond all we do at Hogwarts, you know; it'll be good for the soul."

"Whose soul?" Ginny questioned, her voice loaded with suspicion. "Mine? Are you saying that I need help?"

"We all do in one way or another," Luna answered airily.

Ginny swore softly and kicked at a pebble on the ground. She wanted to clobber Luna! "Are you related to Dumbledore or something? I swear sometimes you two are like the same person." It wouldn't surprise Ginny in the least if Luna had suddenly admitted she was!

Luna trilled, "Don't be silly, Ginny. I'm a girl!"

Trying to control her anger, Ginny turned to Madame Puddifoot's shop window. She squinted and tilted her head, but saw nothing except frosty glass. She frowned and asked, "What are you looking at anyway?

"Neville Longbottom."

Not the answer she was expecting, Ginny gasped, and shot a look of disbelief at Luna. "Neville?! Inside Madame Puddifoot's? Are you sure?"

Luna nodded solemnly, her earrings clanking together against her shoulders. "I'm quite certain. Would you care to go in there with me to find out?"

"NO!" Ginny shouted the word, extracting looks from a small group of Hogwarts students entering the establishment the two girls stood in front of.

Luna's eyebrow shot up a good inch. "Why ever not?" She sounded slightly amused.

"For two reasons," Ginny spat, holding up her fingers as she began pacing. "One: I refuse to spy on any more friends, and two: I certainly don't want anyone getting any crazy ideas about the two of us." Thinking about the odd looks from the couple that had previously vacated the tea shop made Ginny feel strange; what had they thought was going on between she and Luna? Ginny had an idea, but was afraid to actually acknowledge it...

Luna sighed deeply, the fuzzy red ball on her cap bobbing comically. "All right. We'll just wait out here and see whom he comes out with. I have a suspicion, but I want to be sure."

"Who?"

"Anya Borgin."

"That skinny little redhead who wants to join S.P.E.W.?" Ginny barked. "Sure, Luna."

The Ravenclaw girl focused intently on Ginny now. "She does? How very interesting."

This confused the redhead. "What do you mean?"

Again, Luna sighed. "Must I explain everything? Do you know who Anya's great uncle is?"

Ginny tried to recall the conversation that took place earlier in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Mr. Borgin of 'Borgin and Burkes'. So?"

"Anya's great-uncle deals with dark magic items--dark magic items that Death Eaters covet," Luna breathed. "Death Eaters like a certain Slytherin's father."

Ginny nodded; this was common knowledge to her, especially since her own father had had Malfoy's father arrested a few weeks ago. "You mean Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. And?"

"...And Draco Malfoy is magically bound to a person who just so happens to be the founder of S.P.E.W.," Luna supplied. "And she happens to be a witch with Muggle parents. Do you know whom I'm speaking of?"

Ginny rolled her eyes; did Luna think she was a prat? "Don't be ridiculous; you're talking about Hermione. Are you going somewhere with all of this?"

Luna nodded. "Who hates all people that aren't Purebloods?"

That was too easy. "Lord Vol--" Ginny halted in mid-sentence, understanding washing over her. "Oh."

Luna smiled broadly. "There's a story here, Ginevra; I can tell."

Ginny felt a little foolish for not figuring it out sooner, but said, "Perhaps we should talk to Neville first; I'd hate to jump to conclusions without knowing all the facts."

Luna fell into peals of laughter. "Oh, the irony of your words!"

"Shove off, Luna; that was un-called for!" Ginny snapped, feeling rather grumpy, but knowing Luna was correct; if she hadn't jumped to conclusions, she and Luna would never had had to serve detention with Dumbledore.

"Look, you stay here;" Ginny ordered. "I'll go inside."

Luna suddenly perked up, looking beyond Ginny. "There's no need; here's Neville!"

Ginny spun around, her face going red. "Neville! Hello."

Neville looked at the girls, his expression somber. "Ginny. Luna."

"Why, Neville, one would think you weren't so happy to see me," Luna laughed.

Frowning, Neville replied, "Considering you've been spying on me for the last hour, I'd say you were correct."

Luna looked up at the sun. "It's only been fifty-six minutes, but I'll give you that one."

Neville's eyes rounded and he jabbed a finger in Luna's direction. "Aha! I was right! Why are you spying on me?"

Luna bit her lip. "I'm not spying on you, Neville, just your, ah, friend."

"If you mean Anya Borgin, why don't you just say her name?" the Gryffindor boy asked, his face red.

Ginny decided to jump in at this point; Neville looked very upset! "Neville, what's going on between you and Anya?" she asked gently, touching the boys elbow. "Are you...seeing one another?"

"You mean dating? Yes; yes, I am." Neville's shoulders seemed to straighten a bit as he said this. He then sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Luna, I came out here to ask for a favor--as a friend."

"You may state your request, my friend," she replied in a deep voice. At this, she then fell into another fit of giggles. Neville and Ginny exchanged exasperated glances.

Almost immediately, Luna became straight-faced once again, looking at Neville expectantly. He cleared his throat and said, "Don't tell anyone about Anya and I. Please."

Luna was silent for a long moment, which worried Neville. Finally she said, "Why are you asking this of me?"

Neville looked a his feet and mumbled, "Anya's parents won't like knowing about us."

"Why?" Ginny sputtered, outraged. "You're a Pureblood!"

It was true; Neville Longbottom came from a proud lineage of Pureblood wizards, though others saw his family as Muggle-lovers or Mudblood-sympathizers. Just because Neville associated with non-Purebloods, Ginny saw no other reason why Anya's family should dislike him! Neville was honest, loyal, and at times he was very brave.

Neville shrugged, going red. "That's not the reason--and I'd rather not explain right now." He turned to Luna. "Please don't make me beg. Will you do this for me?" His voice had taken on a note of wheedling, despite his words.

Luna nodded graciously. "I can and I will, Neville; though I must say, you didn't have to make a big production out of it."

*~*~*~*~*

Lucius Malfoy stepped back as an Auror magically transferred a tray of food through the bars of his cell in Azkaban Prison.

"Here you are, Mr. Malfoy; porridge and water--as usual."

"Of course," Lucius sneered, looking down at the tray that appeared on the floor. He had no intention of eating the slop, as it was quite disgusting and usually served cold. "Don't you ever tire of serving the same meal over and over again?" he asked in a haughty tone.

The Auror laughed. "Of course not; this isn't some namby-pamby Muggle resort, you know. Besides," he added in a low tone, "it's actually funny to see someone like yourself get the treatment he so richly deserves! How does it feel to rot in Azkaban, Mr. Death Eater?"

Lucius gave the man a hateful stare, then turned away to look at the wall; the Auror's chuckles burning his ears.

"I'll show them that they can't poke fun at a Malfoy," Lucius growled, going over to the stone shelf that jutted out of the wall of his tiny cell. He'd hated having to be confined like an animal--and for the second time in less than a year to boot!

But Lucius did what he'd thought was necessary--if only to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He'd made a few enemies and displeased his Master the first time he'd been placed in Azkaban, for Lucius had stupidly spouted off names of fellow Death Eaters--in the hopes of being released immediately. This time, however, he'd been a bit wiser; even when he'd been threatened with Veritaserum, he did not given up any more information.

Which was the reason for his callous treatment. Since the departure of the Dementors from Azkaban, the way the prisoners were handled became quite different. The Dementors treated all prisoners equally--causing depression, hopelessness, and fear.

The Aurors, however, clearly had favorites, and those were given items to make their cells more comfortable; items such as feather pillows and woven blankets. Warm meals seemed to be the norm for them too, for Lucius noticed steaming bowls on a cart pass by his cell at least once a day.

Lucius felt he deserved better too; after all, being a Malfoy was supposed to mean wealth and privilege, not filth and squalor. He looked down at his tattered, smelly prison uniform, disgust etched into his noble features. If he remained here much longer, he'd become someone like Arthur Weasley...

A shiver scurried up Lucius' spine. I'd rather die first.

And, oddly enough, he wouldn't have to. After many weeks of being in prison, he'd finally gotten word--through his own son, ironically--that something special would be happening at Azkaban tomorrow.

In the near darkness, Lucius smiled. How fortuitous for him that the Dementors were gone! Those Aurors may be skilled in most areas concerning magic, he thought snidely, but they are still human, and tomorrow those idiot Aurors won't know what hit them...

*~*~*~*~*

Draco was bored; he'd gone up and down High Street twice, looking for something to do that didn't involve tormenting younger Hogwarts students, though the first few times he and his gang did that, it did evoke some chuckles from him.

Draco couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he was pretty certain he was missing Hermione Granger. The notion was utterly absurd, but what other explanation was there?

Not moments after he walked away from Hermione, Pansy had latched onto his arm and held on for dear life, talking incessantly and laughing at whatever Draco uttered. With Hermione, Draco reflected, at least he was kept on his toes; their conversations--if one could call the heated exchanges that--were intelligent and thought-provoking.

Upon reflection, Draco knew what had caused the spell to break; it was he who broke the spell! He felt bad for lying to Hermione about it, though he was certain she had known the truth--and kept it to herself.

But why? he wondered. Why did she not say anything?

Draco allowed himself to be dragged into Honeydukes; the sounds of happy chatter and the sweet smells that enveloped him seemed to fade away as Draco leaned against one of the counters and allowed himself to become lost in thought.

He'd decided to win Hermione over just enough for her to tell him tidbits about herself and her two best friends. However, all thoughts of such deviousness had flown out the window when Draco had looked upon Hermione's glowing face--gazing at the Honeydukes Sweetshop window.

She had looked so happy, so full of pure wonder, that for a moment, Draco was entranced.

Then came the assault of other emotions he'd not been prepared for: he felt sickened by his ulterior motives--and then was horribly shamed, for his father would definitely not appreciate his Pureblood son falling for a Mudblood, especially not Hermione Granger, friend of The Dark Lord's most hated enemy.

When Draco was confronted by his so-called friends, he was so embarrassed--though he tried to play it cool. Draco thought to cleverly conceal his abashment, but the words that had tumbled out of his mouth seemed to come from some other place in his brain. And how ironic it was that those words--that simple string of phrases--were what was needed to break the spell.

Had Hermione accepted the fact that they were almost--if not already were--one entity? Had she simply given over to the fact that they really did need to work together and had not let Draco’s bad-attitude get in the way?

It took me a while to realize it, Draco thought stupidly. Hermione really believed it--and I didn’t. If I had, we could have been apart the moment she told me about it.

Draco watched, uninterestedly, as Pansy made her way to the end of the long line of Hogwarts students waiting to purchase their candy selections. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle shoved several students aside, garnering concerned glances from the shopkeepers, but no one said much of anything. Crabbe and Goyle, though thick when it came to most matters, were geniuses at scare-tactics.

But if we had broken the spell earlier, would I have ever noticed how ...interesting... Hermione could really be? Draco asked himself. Would I have even cared?

Draco glanced up to see a smiling Pansy sashaying toward him--her friends in tow--clutching a bag of sweets. The Slytherin girl batted her lashes and snatched up his arm once more, leading him out into the crisp September air.

What a bind I’ve gotten myself into, Draco thought dully as he spied Hermione, Ron, and Harry walking past, laughing about something.

He scowled, remembering when he'd been close enough to Hermione to see her smile and hear her laugh.

How ironic; days ago I was hating her, and now... I actually miss her.

Without thinking, Draco turned on his heel--breaking contact with Pansy--and followed Hermione and her two friends into Honeydukes.

His fellow Slytherins stared after him in openmouthed confusion, each wondering: Had Draco Malfoy suddenly gone mad?

After they moved away from Draco and the small group of Slytherins, things seemed to calm down a bit for Hermione's friends. To get them to cheer up some, Hermione told Ron and Harry a few of the funny things that occurred while she was stuck to the Head Boy.

Fred and George's offer to help split the Head Boy and Girl apart gave Ron and Harry the biggest laugh.

"Typical," Ron chuckled as he held open the door to Honeydukes for Hermione and Harry. "Can you just imagine what they would have done?" He released the door as they walked past and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, someone else's hand shoot forward to grab the door handle.

"Thanks," he muttered, not really looking to see whom he was thanking; his focus was on Hermione.

"As is the reason we declined," Hermione was saying, as she looked around the candy shop. "I mean honestly, I know they meant well, but Draco and I would likely have ended up in St. Mungo's!"

Ron inhaled sharply. "Since when do you call him 'Draco'?"

Hermione shot the gangly redhead a scathing look. "Since when is that a crime?"

Ron went red in the face. "I was just wondering when you became so friendly with someone you thought was a twitchy little ferret face only a few weeks ago!"

Hermione stopped in front a display of hard candies in wrapped in orange and black papers and gave Ron a scathing look. In a haughty voice, she replied, "We're Head Boy and Girl, Ronald; we have to attempt some semblance of unity! Besides," she added, "we also spent nearly a week stuck together by magic. I think even you--in that situation--would be calling your biggest fear by its first name!"

"I'm not afraid of Malfoy!" Ron went red.

"Er, Ron," Harry muttered, slightly amused, "I think she meant Aragog." Aragog was the giant spider that had once been Hagrid's pet. Ron did not like spiders, so meeting Aragog in the Dark Forest during his and Harry's second year had not been very pleasant.

"Oh." Ron paused, trying not to shudder; for good measure, he added, "I'm still not scared of Malfoy!"

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "I was just trying to make a point! You don't have to repeat yourself."

"Could you two stop bickering for a moment, please?" Harry interjected quietly, stepping between Hermione and Ron. "We're, er, attracting stares."

Sure enough, as Ron and Hermione looked around them, they noticed nearly all the patrons in Honeydukes were looking at them bemusedly. Hermione did an about face and marched as far away from Ron as possible.

"Why does she always have to be difficult?" Ron muttered, curling his upper lip. He felt like hitting something!

Harry shrugged. "Well, she's been through quite a bit lately," he said slowly. "Maybe we ought to be glad she's not stuck to Malfoy any more."

"I am!" Ron replied moodily. "But she's acting...oddly! I mean more than usual," he finished hastily. "I wonder...do you think she snogged Malfoy?"

"I...don't know," Harry said slowly. Seeing the horrified look on Ron's face, he added, "I hope not!"

Both boys frowned in disgust. Harry knew Ron had feelings for Hermione, though getting him to admit as much was about as possible as Harry passing Snape's Potions class with outstanding marks.

Ron shook his head to clear the images that had started to form there. "I'm going to go wait outside, okay, mate? You want to come with?"

Harry bit his lip; telling Ron that he actually wanted to stay in the candy shop would be difficult.

However, as Harry contemplated this, Ron seemed to understand. "Look, mate," Ron sighed. "I don't want to deprive you of getting something sweet to eat, so go on--I'll just hang outside 'til you two are ready." He began to turn away, but stopped. "Tell Hermione... I'm sorry, okay?"

Harry felt sorry for Ron in that moment. He watched his friend walk toward the door, then moved through a small group of fifth years talking about Acid Pops ("Look! It's put a hole in his tongue!"), to find Hermione browsing through jars or Pepper Imps and Cockroach Clusters.

"Hermione," Harry began, "I, er..." he stopped, unsure of what to say next.

"If you've come to lecture me about Ron or Draco," Hermione said tightly, not looking at Harry, "please don't."

"Oh! Oh, no," Harry laughed uneasily. "I wanted to say two things; first, I wanted to know if you would like to talk about anything, and second, Ron says he's sorry."

"Ron can't tell me himself?" Hermione asked, giving Harry an angry glance.

Harry chuckled. "Seems that way, doesn't it? Now I know what it felt like for you--being a messenger and all."

Hermione gave him a wry smile; she remembered when, back in their fourth year, Harry and Ron weren't talking--all because Ron had been jealous of his best friend.

"He seems to be the common factor in both situations," Hermione said lightly, taking down a jar of Pepper Imps. She turned the jar over in her hands, shook her head and gingerly place it back on the shelf.

"Hermione, I didn't just come over here to talk about Ron's thick-headedness," Harry paused as Hermione laughed. "I wanted to know: are you all right? I mean, really?" Genuine concern flowed from Harry as he looked upon one of his dearest friends.

Hermione did not look at Harry when she answered, "Yes, everything is fine."

Harry stood very still for a few moments, wondering what he should do or say next. Finally he said, "You were stuck to Malfoy for a long time. Did..." he paused, searching for the right words, "...anything occur between the two of you that you might want to talk about?"

The Head Girl inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She thought about all the moments she and Draco argued, which didn't bother her so much, but recalling her odd dream and the awkward moments they'd shared--especially the more recent episode outside the sweetshop--made Hermione's inside feel strange.

Draco had been so close, close enough to kiss her! Hermione shuddered to think what would have happened had Pansy not interrupted them.

Would Draco have done it? she wondered silently. Would Draco Malfoy have risked his reputation and snogged me right in the middle of Hogsmeade--for all to see?

Hermione seriously doubted it, but a very tiny part of her had actually been disappointed. If Ron and Harry had been angry because Draco twirled me around, I can't imagine what they'd say--or do--if they even knew for one moment that I wanted Draco to kiss me!

She stiffened as a cold flash of reality raced through her. What am I thinking?! No! That is wrong on many levels! He's a Slytherin--and an obnoxious, uppity, Pureblood! And I hate him!

Of that last statement, Hermione was not so convinced.

The dark-haired boy pushed up his round glasses, but he did not miss the myriad of expressions that crossed the frizzy-haired witch's face. Amusement, happiness, followed by worry, then something Harry couldn't quite name, passed quickly over her pert features.

I really should try harder with my Occulmency, Harry thought to himself. Then I could really know what was going on with Hermione.

This was a great concern to Harry; on one hand, he wanted to know what Hermione was thinking and feeling, but if concerned Malfoy, it wasn't something Harry wanted to know--unless it was a matter for the Order.

But as Hermione is my friend, he thought fiercely, isn't it my duty to try to help her sort out her problems? Hermione was always doing the same for him!

Hermione seemed to sense what Harry was thinking. "I don't want to bore you with stories of Dra--er, Malfoy, Harry," Hermione fumbled over her words for a split second. "Please, let's talk about something else," she pleaded. "Have you had any news lately?"

She was, of course, referring to the Order's close tabs on Voldemort. Harry had been waiting to tell her about the attack on Kingsley Shacklebolt, and did so without hesitating. When he was finished, Hermione was wearing a frown of concentration.

"Why would someone attack and Auror outside the Leaky Cauldron?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "That's just it; we don't know."

Hermione waited until two students--both of whom were ogling Harry--moved past; then she queried, "Where has Kingsley been lately?"

The dark haired boy thought a moment. "Well, according to Bill, Kingsley had been at Azkaban earlier in the day."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "You don't think it was a friend or relative of one of the prisoners, do you? Or, maybe it was one of Mundungus' more...inappropriate friends?"

Harry chuckled, "Spoken like Mrs. Weasley; tactful as ever." He sobered a bit, however, and added, "Ron thought perhaps it was a Muggle."

"No, it couldn't have been a Muggle," Hermione replied thoughtfully, "There's something else going on, I'm sure--something Bill didn't tell you--or he didn't know."

They two friends decided to change the subject once again, keeping up a light banter about an upcoming Quidditch match until Hermione chose a few licorice whips ("They're harmless enough, I suppose.") and some Chocolate Frogs ("I love them!").

After handing over a couple of Knuts, they exited the sweetshop, neither noticing a certain blonde, blue-eyed Slytherin lurking behind one of the glass cases--his piercing gaze never leaving the Head Girl's face.

*~*~*~*~*

The hooded man stepped off the train at Hogsmeade--a day early. Shaking out his long heavy robes, he realized he was not expected until the morrow, but that did not matter. Arriving early would give him a chance to look around the tiny wizarding village.

He had been in the area once so long ago, it seemed, but had not gotten the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade.

There were too many other issues requiring my attention, he thought, as he recalled his last visit. It had not ended well--as he'd been accused of doing something most heinous--through no fault of his own, it was later discovered. But what was even more tragic was that someone had died.

I did not know him well, the man said silently, but he appeared to be a good person--and loved by many people.

Which was not the case for him. He knew that many, many witches and wizards adored him and followed his career quite closely, but it wasn't quite the same; he did not know real love--from a single person.

"Though this summer vos quite nice," he muttered, smiling as he reminisced for a moment about his trek half way around the world and how he'd met up again with a certain Hogwarts student...

He walked toward the edge of the platform, his boot heels clicking loudly on the pavement. Looking out towards Hogsmeade, he wondered, What sorts of things will I find?

When his luggage magically appeared at his side, the man pulled out his wand and muttered, "Locomotor trunk." The large, sleek black case rose silently from the ground and hovered there for a moment. When he stepped forward, it followed along.

A strong wind whipped his hood off and momentarily his head and face were exposed. Hastily, he yanked the dark covering back up and over his closely shaven lobe, hoping that no one had seen him. He glanced around furtively, sighing in relief when he realized not a single soul had recognized him.

Many thanks for that, he sighed inwardly, turning his eyes skyward. What sort of surprise would I be if I had been spotted now?

It had been very difficult to keep his anonymity on the train, but he'd managed. He realized, in hindsight, that he could have flown on a broomstick, Apparated, or even used a Portkey!

Asking a porter where he could obtain an owl, he kept his head down, and disguised his voice as best as he could. The porter looked at him askance, but said nothing. This surprised the man; were dodgy characters coming to Hogsmeade a common occurrence?

Once the porter pointed him in the right direction, he heaved a sigh, then stepped off the platform. He longed to use the broomstick he'd carefully packed in the trunk, but doing so would only draw attention to himself--something the Headmaster was most adamant about him not doing.

..."If you are seen before I announce you on Monday," Albus Dumbledore had written, "then my special surprise will be for naught. Please take the utmost care in remaining anonymous until then. When you arrive, please send me an owl; I will send someone to fetch you right away."

He made a mental note to send an owl up to the castle; he was unsure if he'd be able to find a room for the night in the tiny wizard town, in any case.

So began the task of walking towards Hogsmeade.

As he caught a glimpse of the stately Hogwarts castle looming in the distance, the man's thoughts turned to something--or rather someone--different all together. With a small chuckle, he wondered, What she will say when she sees me?

*~*~*~*~*

Neville had gone back inside to Madame Puddifoot's, leaving Luna and Ginny standing in the street.

"That was interesting," Luna reflected quietly.

"Which part?" Ginny asked. "Neville actually standing up for himself--or Neville having a girlfriend?"

"Both, I suppose."

"What do we do now?" Ginny asked, more as a rhetorical question.

"Perhaps we should go back up to the castle," Luna suggested. "After all, we need to complete our detention with the Headmaster."

Ginny gave Luna an incredulous look. "Gee, Luna, we could have had that over and done with by now, if you hadn't decided that spying on Anya Borgin was more important."

Luna cleared her throat. "I stick by my original statement: there's a story there--"

"Which you will say nothing about!" Ginny cut in. "You promised!"

"I realize that," Luna said lightly. "You don't need to remind me."

"If you say so," Ginny rolled her eyes. "But first, I'd like to stop in The Three Broomsticks; I'm a little thirsty and a butterbeer sounds quite nice at the moment."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain you don't want a spot of tea from Madame Puddifoot's?" She swung her gaze to the shop window.

Ginny didn't have to answer; the grumpy look on her face said what Luna wanted to know. Linking her arm with Ginny, the two girls headed towards The Three Broomsticks, Luna's peals of laughter catching the attention of several people, making them wonder what sort of students were attending Hogwarts nowadays.

Luna decided to regal Ginny with a few stories of her summer vacation. Each one--to Ginny, it seemed--was more outrageous than the last.

The redhead tried her best to seem interested in what her friend was saying, but she couldn't help but look around for Harry. She knew he was here somewhere, but where?

It took only a few moments to spot him; he was on the other side of the street, walking into The Three Broomsticks behind Hermione and Ron, Ginny's older brother. The Weasley boy was easiest to spot, as he had the exact hair color as Ginny and stood nearly a foot taller than his friends.

As though Harry could feel Ginny's eyes upon him, he turned and looked in her direction. When he realized whom he was looking at, Harry grinned broadly and waved at her.

Ginny went to put her hand up in greeting, but Luna, however, thinking Harry was waving at her, called out a greeting of her own and skipped over to join him.

Ginny stood rooted to the spot for a moment. What just happened here?

Harry, also looking thoroughly confused, smiled at Luna as she approached. They chatted for a moment, then Luna went inside The Three Broomsticks. Harry then turned to look at Ginny once more.

Ginny's heart slammed in her chest when Harry gaze fell upon her. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she moved forward to join him, her grin matching his own. She was so preoccupied that she did not see the cloaked figure walking directly into her path.

They collided; Ginny fell onto the ground. She looked up to give the person an earful of angry words, but the person was turning away, as though nothing had happened.

"Hey!" Ginny shouted, getting to her feet. "The least you could do is apologize!"

The cloaked figure paused for a moment, turned slightly and mumbled, "I vos at fault. My apologies." He then resumed a steady pace towards the Post Office, a large black trunk floating along behind him.

"Are you all right?" Harry breathed, jogging up to Ginny. "You took a pretty bad spill there."

"Yeah," Ginny said slowly, still looking in the direction of the stranger. "But I'm okay. Hey," she said, swinging her attention to Harry, "you didn't happen to get a look at that guy I ran into, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "No...no, I didn't. Why?"

Ginny shrugged. "Oh, no reason, really; I just thought that was Viktor Krum for a moment."

"Krum? Here?" Harry laughed. "Ginny, did you hit your head? Are you sure you don't need to see Madame Pomfrey?"

Ginny cast one more uncertain look towards the Post Office; the cloaked man was gone. "No," she replied evenly. "I'm good." She brushed off her coat, tossed her hair back and grinned, "I could go for a butterbeer. Come on, Harry, I'll race you; last person inside has to buy the winner a drink."

Harry grinned. "You're on!"

*~*~*~*~*

Pansy was getting angrier with each passing second. She watched as Draco Malfoy exited the sweet shop and followed Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley down High Street towards The Three Broomsticks. The trio had stopped for a few moments, while Ron and Hermione exchanged words, and--gag--patted each other on the back, then continue on their way.

Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode had decided almost right away to give up on waiting for Draco to come out of Honeydukes; they'd had enough fun for one day, so trekked back to Hogwarts with another group of Slytherins. Pansy could have gone with them, but wanted to know what Draco was up to.

As she watched Draco following along behind the trio of friends, Pansy wouldn't-- couldn't --believe that Draco was slowly becoming obsessed with that ugly little Mudblood Granger. That would never happen--not in a million years! Lucius Malfoy would disown Draco--and he knew it!

So what is going on here?

Pansy was far more irresistible than the uppity Know-It-All; why didn't Draco want to spend time with her?. One would think that Draco would be relieved to finally be unstuck from that piece of filth.

Maybe she's made him mad and he wants to get even, Pansy reasoned. After all, many people had seen them arguing over the last few days.

However, something else was nagging Pansy, something she kept trying to shove aside. What if Granger put some sort of charm on him? Worse still--had Draco been given a love potion?

This last thought worried Pansy a little. Little Miss Mudblood was proficient in Potions; everyone knew that! Or was it possible that she'd gotten some from those idiot Weasley twins, whom--as most of the girls in Hogwarts knew--were selling love potions from their joke shop in Diagon Alley.

Whatever it is that's going on between those two, Pansy thought with a frown, I'm going to find out.

I must be out of my mind, Draco thought over and over again, as he slunk into The Three Broomsticks. Hermione isn't worth my time; so why am I following her about?

A small part of him knew, but he was desperately trying to ignore it. All Draco needed was to concentrate on getting any little bit of useful information from the Trio so he could pass it along to his father.

His father had been most insistent in the letter Draco had received a few mornings previous. After Lucius Malfoy had very nearly accused Draco of associating with a Mudblood, he wanted his son to find out what he could about Harry Potter's plans.

You are being counted upon to do this; if you succeed, you will be greatly rewarded...

Draco didn't have to guess as to what the 'great reward' would be. He had been looking forward to following in his father's footsteps...until today. Now Draco was torn; part of him wanted to be a dutiful son, yet another part wanted to enjoy the company of Hermione Granger, and still another tiny part of him just wanted to flee from everything--to just get away from what he was expected to do--and the new feelings that were scaring the hell out of him.

Why must I be the one to do this? Draco wanted to know, but dared not ask his father.

And what did his father mean when he wrote I'll be seeing you sooner than you may think...? Was Lucius being released from Azkaban early? Draco knew they hadn't found any more incriminating evidence in his home, unless one counted Narcissa Malfoy falling to pieces and quite possibly embarrassing the Malfoy name.

Pushing thoughts of his mother aside, Draco took a seat near a group of fourth year Slytherins. They looked upon him with a mixture of fear and adoration, but Draco didn't seem to notice. He helped himself to a full bottle of butterbeer that had just been placed on their table and drank deeply.

Ignoring the odd looks from his house mates for his blatant stealing, Draco kept his attention focused of the Gryffindor trio seated in the corner of the pub. What were they speaking of? he wondered, wishing suddenly that he could read lips.

Draco had been close enough to Potter and Hermione in Honeydukes to hear a bit of conversation about Aurors and Azkaban prison, but it was the look on Hermione's face when Scarhead asked her about him.

She had looked... overwhelmed? It was the only word he could think of to pin on the myriad of expressions that Hermione Granger had taken on in those brief moments. Draco wanted to crow for a moment; had he bowled over the Head Girl? But he kept quiet, for he didn't want to ruin the moment and give himself away.

After exchanging more uncomfortable glances, the Slytherin students seated around Draco murmured polite excuses and hastily made their way out of the pub. Draco could have cared less; what he wanted was on the other side of the room and nothing was going to distract him.

Collect information, Draco told himself. That's all that matters. He took another swig of butterbeer and set the bottle on the table. He stood up and slowly began making his way through the crowded pub to where Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Ron sat; not noticing at all that Pansy had just come into The Three Broomsticks--looking quite livid.

*~*~*~*~*

"Uh-oh," Ron said under his breath, looking up at the blonde Slytherin slowly making his way toward him and his friends. "What's that git want?"

Hermione's gazed strayed in the direction of Ron's jutted chin. When she saw Draco, her heart gave a little leap and she gasped lightly; the Head Boy looked like a large cat on the prowl--and the way he was staring at her was giving her the chills.

"Er, he probably wants to know if I'll be helping him with his Potions work," Hermione said quickly, her mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton. She took a quick sip of the warm butterbeer in front of her, desperately trying to ignore the questioning looks on Harry's, Ginny's, and Luna's faces.

Before anyone else could say anything, Draco was standing in front of the table. "Well, look who we have here," he drawled, "Scarhead, two Weaslebys, Loony Lovegood... and Granger." He inclined his head slightly at Hermione, who flushed red.

This didn't go unnoticed by Ron. "What's the matter with you?" he hissed at Hermione, who lowered her gaze to her mug of butterbeer.

"How interesting," Harry began cooly, his gaze fixed on Draco. "Just moments ago, it seems, you were being so friendly to Hermione. Why the sudden change?"

Draco's eyebrow shot up. "Perhaps it's the company she keeps; two blood-traitors, a loon, and ...well, I don't have to finish that sentence."

Ron stood up so fast that his chair fell over. He opened his mouth to retort, but Ginny beat him to it. "That's so much better than the company she used to keep--you disgusting little worm! Get out of here before I hex you!"

"Tsk! Tsk!!" Draco chuckled snidely. "Aren't you in enough trouble all ready? Do I have to tell Dumbledore that you were threatening me?"

"That wouldn't be much of a change, would it?" Ginny shot back a bit loudly; several heads began turning in their direction. "Once a snitch, always a snitch! Grow up, Malfoy!"

"Why, you little--!" Draco lunged forward, but Hermione's face suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Stop it!" she shrieked. The entire room had gone silent as many sent curious glances their way; even Madam Rosmerta was looking a bit annoyed from her place behind the bar. "Do you have something important you wish to say?" Hermione asked Draco in a low voice.

"Not anymore." Draco replied smoothly, as though nothing had just occurred. "Obviously your...friends...don't want me here."

"Please, just leave, Draco," Hermione whispered, her expression unreadable.

Exhaling deeply, Draco ran a hand through his hair and nodded. Not uttering another word, Draco turned and moved away, nearly as quietly as he had come. He was not admitting defeat--yet. He still had tonight to work on Hermione; he was determined not only to please his father, but Draco wanted to learn more about the Muggle-born witch with the frizzy hair...

He didn't get very far, however; in the doorway stood Pansy Parkinson--and she looked fit to be tied. She opened her mouth to make some sort of remark, but Draco merely held up his hand as he walked past her, making his way out of the door; he didn't want to hear any tirade from the Slytherin girl now.

*~*~*~*~*

No one said much of anything on the way back to the castle. Neville had caught up with the group and was quite alone, giving Ginny and Luna the impression that Anya was still insistent on not being seen with him.

Everyone was quite miserable, it seemed to Harry, during dinner. Hermione was lost in thought, nodding every few minutes whilst Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown chattered away and while Ron continuously stabbed at his food, grumbling about "that stupid git"--over and over again. Neville ate while trying leaning backwards to get a glimpse at someone at the other end of the Gryffindor table; he'd spilled quite a bit of food down his front.

Only Harry himself seemed to be in any kind of decent mood. As Harry ate his roast chicken, he kept glancing over at Hermione, then at Malfoy who sat across the Great Hall, looking very sullen. Harry tried to use Legillimency to find out what was going on in the Slytherin's head, but was somehow being blocked. This served only to make Harry more suspicious of Draco.

With a deep sigh, Harry wished he had someone to speak with; this awkward silence was quite unnerving. If only Ginny were here; he knew she'd have something amusing to say. However, she and Luna had not joined the rest of the students that evening; they were somewhere in the castle, preparing for whatever Dumbledore wanted them to do on Monday. Harry had asked about it again on the trek back from Hogsmeade, but was quickly shot down by Luna's peals of laughter.

We'll all find out in two days, Harry thought with a small smile. Whatever it was, it was stressing Ginny out a bit. But what punishment could be so bad that Ginny couldn't tell her friends?

*~*~*~*~*

"Professor," Ginny stated slowly, looking at the parchment in her hands, "you--you cannot be serious! Please don't make us do this! It's too humiliating!"

Luna looked at her own slip of paper and laughed. "Oh, Ginny, this is cute!"

The girls were cloistered in the Professor Dumbledore's office, having their meal with him in private so he could once again go over the terms of the final part of their punishment and to tell them how disappointed he had been that they had gone gallivanting off to Hogsmeade earlier. It was over dessert that Dumbledore finally gave Luna and Ginny their assignment, and only Ginny seemed to take to heart the words written on the paper in front of her; Luna, however, thought it was all quite hysterical.

The Headmaster smiled slightly and replied, "Oh, yes, Miss Weasley, I'm afraid I'm being completely serious. It'll only take a moment, and I promise there will be no pain."

None but the burning of our ears as everyone laughs at us, Ginny thought sullenly.

"You'll hear no one laughing," Dumbledore stated gently, patting her shoulder. "Now, off to bed with the both of you. I expect to hear something wonderful by the end of tomorrow!"

"Can't we just recite this as a poem?" Ginny asked desperately.

Dumbledore shook his head "I'm sorry; no. I've all ready informed our special surprise guest that there would be some sort of musical entertainment, and I'll not have him disappointed."

"'Him?'" Ginny's ears perked up as she and Luna exchanged curious glances. "Sir, won't you tell us who the surprise guest is?" Ginny wheedled, as Dumbledore ushered Luna and herself to the door. "We'd love to know."

"Now, Miss Weasley, if I were to tell you that, it wouldn't be a surprise," the Headmaster chuckled, opening the door with a wave of his hand. "However, both of you are clever girls; I'm certain you'll figure it out soon enough." With that, he closed the door, leaving Ginny and Luna to stare in openmouthed wonder.

*~*~*~*~*

That evening, Hermione and Draco walked the halls, looking for out-of-bed students, dodging water balloons throw at them by Peeves, and speaking in brief, terse tones to one another.

"Do you think we'll find anyone this evening?" Draco asked, casting a sideways glance at Hermione.

"I don't know."

She's not paying attention, Draco thought. So he said, "Perhaps we'll discover a secret passageway. What do you think?"

"I don't know." Hermione was looking straight ahead.

Draco tried one last time to get Hermione to look at him. "Did you hear? Someone saw Filch dancing naked by the lake with Mrs. Norris!"

This statement made Hermione stop in her tracks. "What?!" She looked as though Draco has just spoken to her in Parseltongue.

Draco chuckled. "When are you going to pay attention, Hermione? I've been trying to speak with you!"

It seemed Draco's outlandish remark had broken the ice. Hermione smiled a little more and Draco coaxed her into revealing a little bit about herself, such as what colors she liked, what foods she loved, and what she did over the summer.

They also spoke about how nice it was to finally be apart; Draco had admitted that having only a short time each day to take care of personal matters was terrible, while Hermione insisted that sleeping on the floor was just awful. Each smiled wryly when they spoke about their friends' reactions.

While it wasn't much info, Draco realized it was a start. If conversations like this happened every evening, it wouldn't be long before Hermione would tell him more important things, Draco figured.

She's a clever witch, though, he told himself. I must be very careful.

The patrols ended on a rather pleasant note, when Hermione gave Draco a small smile, bid him goodnight, and slipped into her room, closing the door firmly. Draco could've sworn he heard the Head Girl sigh deeply, but wasn't absolutely certain. Whistling gaily, Draco headed to his own room.

However, on the other side of the Head Girl's door, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age and friend to Harry Potter, had actually let out a watery sob, tossing herself onto her bed, wondering why she was having more than feelings of friendship for that little ferret, Draco Malfoy.

Draco's bedroom door swung open and his mother stood in the doorway, looking pale, pinched, and very afraid. He sat up in bed immediately, shielding his eyes from the bright light that filtered into the room from the hallway.

“Pack,” he was instructed tersely, as though he'd been awake the entire evening and not sleeping, dreaming of wonderful things.

Suddenly he groaned; had he really been dreaming that he was just about to kiss Hermione Granger...? A nightmare surely.

“Take only what is necessary, leave everything else behind.” Narcissa turned abruptly and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

That was unexpected, he thought, as he stared perplexedly at the door.

Draco scrambled out of bed, absentmindedly rubbing his arm, which felt like it was on fire. He nearly jumped a foot when a house elf suddenly apparated before him. "Master Draco," it simpered, bowing low, "I shall endeavor to help you pack quickly."

Sighing heavily, Draco ran a hand through his white-blonde locks; it was not in his nature to address a house elf, for crying out loud, but he couldn't help himself--he had to know what was going on. "Why am I packing?" he asked, mentally kicking himself for sounding quite like a blathering idiot.

He rubbed his arm again.

"Begging pardon, sir, but--they come!" the creature squeaked.

"They?" Draco repeated blankly. "Who? Ministry of Magic Officials?"

"The D-Dark L-Lor--" The house elf began to tremble in fear; it actually began to cry as it pointed to something outside.

Draco ran over to the great double doors leading out to his private balcony. There was absolutely no need to open them, for the Dark Mark that hung over the the woods beyond the rolling landscape of Malfoy Manor was quite visible even through the heavy drapery.

Apprehension prickling his entire body, he slowly pulled back his pajama sleeve.

Draco felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. There it was; sickened, he looked at the ugly mark that had been burned into his arm the summer before--the Dark Mark. It was black--blacker than he'd ever seen it.

His stomach and heart hit the floor as ice flooded his veins. Draco frantically surveyed the room, his mind reeling; they were coming for him--he knew it instinctively.

He betrayed the Dark Lord; could they escape in time?

In the distance, he heard his mother screeching, "Hurry!"

Draco looked at the house elf, who was nearly prostrate on the floor, sobbing it's huge eyes out. "Get up!" he snapped at his servant. This seemed to help a little, for the creature jumped to its feet and wiped its nose with the tea towel it wore around its waist.

"See to my mother," Draco ordered. "Don't take anything with you--regardless of what she says. Get her out of here immediately, do you hear? Hit her over the bloody head if you have to, but get her away from here--and take her to France if at all possible."

The house elf balked at the orders, but knew that Draco, as the new head of household since his father's arrest, was not to be nay-sayed. It disappeared as quickly as it came, probably fretting at my order. Draco wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it--a house elf hitting Narcissa Malfoy on the head with a frying pan or some such thing--but the time for laughter was not now.

He dressed hurriedly, his gaze never leaving the Dark Mark. That was there for only one reason; someone had been killed in those very woods; the woods Draco played in as a child. Those days seemed long gone now as he kept himself from retching there on the floor. They're coming for me; I'm going to die his mind raced frantically. I betrayed the Dark Lord...

How long would it be before Voldemort and his Death Eaters appeared in the Malfoy's home? They could apparate, which was very likely, and who knew how he and his mother would escape then?

Draco heard the sounds of scuffling out in the hallway and his heart lurched; were the Death Eaters here all ready? He bolted out of his bedroom, wand raised, ready to do battle, when a strange sight greeted his eyes: a Weasley in his home!?

Aurors must be nearby, Draco thought wryly, if not already upon Malfoy Manor.

Another house elf was trying every trick it knew to keep gangly Ron Weasley away from Draco's door. Momentarily forgetting his mortal danger, Draco laughed.

"Call off your watchdog, Malfoy!" Weasley shouted at Draco. The blonde boy snapped his fingers and the house elf backed away and stood against the wall, giving Ron the nastiest of looks.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked rudely.

"Your mother... Snape..." Weasley breathed.

Draco's hackles went up immediately. "Are they hurt?" he asked sharply. "Are you alone? Who else is here?" Draco demanded, not caring how upset he may have sounded.

Weasley shook his head. "No, they're fine. You... need to... get out of here."

Malfoy pushed past him and half ran down the steps. There, in the foyer, was Professor Dumbledore, Narcissa, Professors McGonagall and Lupin, Hermione Granger, the bumbling oaf Hagrid who was carrying ...the body of Harry Potter.

Draco's eyes widened as he sucked in his breath. I've dreamed of this moment, many times, Draco thought slowly, as the shocked sensation suddenly turned to one of rising glee. Potter was dead by my own hand, however--and now here he is.

Granger was crying, as were Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, grasped Draco's arm, and tapped him on the head with his wand, muttering something Draco didn't understand. In turn, each person did the same to themselves; Professors McGonagall and Lupin helped Hagrid.

In a moment, everyone shimmered like heat waves in front of Draco, then slid back into focus.

"What the bloody hell--" Malfoy began.

"We'll not be seen this way, Draco," his mother spoke wearily, "but we can see each other. Don't worry; we'll be safe."

"For the time being," Professor Dumbledore finished, as he turned and strode out of the front door without another word; everyone followed suit. Professor Snape was all ready standing out there, wand raised, as if expecting anything to come popping out of the shrubbery at any moment; he nodded to Professor Dumbledore when the Headmaster approached.

Draco couldn't take my eyes off Potter however. If he was gone, how easy would it be for the Dark Lord to appear now and kill him?

"How--? How did you manage to get...?"

"His body?" Granger snapped through her tears. Hagrid began to wail, but a quick, stern look from Professor McGonagall silenced him before he could even properly inhale. Draco nodded.

"Professor Snape; but he was too late," Granger said softly. The Potions Master looked sideways at Granger with a look Draco had never seen before. "He's being hunted also," she whispered now, but Malfoy noticed Professor Snape, who put his arm on Narcissa's elbow, stiffen slightly.

"This is all so... bloody ridiculous," Draco suddenly blurted out. All eyes, including his mother's, swung toward him, and Draco saw hate and anger on several faces. Draco closed his mouth immediately, for he was not completely stupid; he knew when he was outnumbered.

"Do you want to know what's ridiculous?" Ron hissed in Draco's ear, "My mum and dad are dead. Fred and Charlie are dead. Harry's dead. Shall I go on?"

"Ron," Professor Lupin said quietly, and the redhead stepped away from Draco, swearing quietly.

Suddenly, Professor Dumbledore stopped in his tracks. Everyone else halted, except Draco; he ran into Hagrid, who turned and glared at the blonde boy, though never faltering as he carried Potter's bloody, battered body.

"They've arrived."

In unison, they turned, and saw from the hilltop, that Malfoy Manor was slowly beginning to burn. Death Eaters by the dozens dragged the house elves out to a small clearing and fell upon them like a pack of ravenous wolves, pointing their wands at them and killing each one while a lone cloaked figure stood patting the head of a huge serpent.

"Voldemort."

No one uttered a sound or moved a muscle after Dumbledore's words; they were too weary. The cloaked being turned slightly and looked in their direction for a moment, then continued to watch the Malfoy home become completely engulfed in flames.

Before Draco realized what he was doing, he broke free of the crowd and shouted, "Here! Here I am!" down the hill to the swarm of Death Eaters. Each of the hooded figures rose up from the ground and flew swiftly through the air towards Draco.

They aren't Death Eaters! Draco's mind screamed as he stumbled backwards. Those are Dementors!

He turned around to the crowd he'd followed to the hilltop, desperate for help, but they had all vanished--except for Hermione.

Lucius Malfoy suddenly appeared; the Dark Lord was by his side.

"You betrayed me," his father spat. "You've betrayed our Master. You've allowed a Mudblood to fall in love with you!" Lucius reached out and grasped Hermione by the neck and began choking her.

Hermione did nothing to prevent Draco's father from attempting to kill her; she stared at Draco, tears streaming down her face, her heart in her glazed eyes.

"I... love you," she whispered. Then, with a small gasp, she fell to the ground, dead.

Draco opened his mouth to cry out, but was soon overtaken by the Dementors. As one slowly pulled it's hood back, revealing a gaping hole, Draco looked desperately at his father.

"Help me," he whimpered; Lucius turned away in disgust.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Voldemort lift his wand and shout, "Avada Kedavra!"; Draco screamed in terror as the jet of green light sped toward him...

"NO!" In a last attempt at freedom, he twisted away from the Dementors...



...and landed with a loud crash on the floor next to his bed.

Draco leapt to his feet, kicking and punching the blankets that had snaked around his body. Once free, he jumped away from them and panted heavily, leaning on the chair that stood alone near the fireplace.

He was in his dormitory; he was in Hogwarts. It had just been a most horrible dream; he was still alive!

"Thank the gods," he muttered, kicking his blanket one last time for good measure. He looked over at the hourglass clock near his door; it was 12:45 in the morning.

A knock on his door made him jump out of his skin. "Who's there?" he demanded hoarsely.

"It's me. Are you all right?"

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. "Granger." He padded over to his door and yanked it open. She stood discreetly at a distance; her long, bushy hair flowed loosely over her shoulders as she twisted her hands together fretfully.

"I was awake doing some reading for Advanced Muggle Studies," Hermione began in a rush, "and I heard you yell and fall down--you did fall down, didn't you?--so I just had to find out if you were all right and--"

Draco absentmindedly put his fingers to her lips. "You talk too much."

Hermione swatted Draco's hand away. "Since when is that a crime?" When Draco didn't answer, she pressed on. "Well? Are you or are you not hurt?"

"I'm fine," Draco sighed. "Honest."

Hermione looked askance, but held her tongue. She nodded 'good night', then returned her schoolbooks, which lay open on the floor by the fireplace.

Draco said not a word as he watched the Head Girl sit down on the hearth rug next to her cat. She heaved a thick book onto her lap, opened it, and began reading.

Hermione's lips move as she reads, Draco noted with a small smile. I didn't know that. She also held one finger on the page in front of her as her other hand lightly stroked Crookshanks' fur.

Not wanting to go back to sleep--as he was secretly afraid he's dream of the Dark Lord again--Draco stepped out into the common room.

"Do you need some help?" he called out stupidly. Hermione jerked her head up and looked at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"I'm perfectly capable of studying alone, thanks," she replied in a clipped tone. "Besides, what would you know about Muggles?"

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. "What’s the matter, Granger?" he asked, amusement dotting his words. "You seem a little tense."

"I--oh, never mind," Hermione sighed. "Just go away; You'd be the last person I'd want to discuss anything with."

"Anything like what?" Draco queried with a tilt of his head. "After you and I spent a week stuck together, you don't think I can be trusted enough with some silly little problem of yours?"

"Silly! How dare you think that my 'problems' are 'silly'?" Hermione was outraged.

Draco chuckled. "Well, of course they are; after all you're a--"

He didn't get to finish; Hermione hurled the large book straight at his head. Draco ducked just in time; the volume skittered across the floor and under a table against the wall.

"I'm sick of you always bringing that up! Can't you and I ever have a normal conversation where you don't bring up the fact that I'm 'different'?"

"But--but you are!" Draco stuttered. He skittered back as Hermione scrambled to her feet.

"Oh sure!" Hermione yelled, trying to kick Draco. "I'm a 'Mudblood', isn't that right?" She bent down and picked up her ink bottle and held it up threateningly.

"Well, yeah," Draco said slowly, trying to back away. What's gotten into her? he thought wildly. "But--"

"You're an egotistical, self-centered...child!" Hermione cried and hurled the ink pot at Draco's head. Again, he dove out of the way, but as Hermione's aim had been off, he collided with the bottle and was quickly doused in black ink.

For several long moments, the Head Girl and Boy stared at one another. Soon, Hermione began to laugh--as did Draco. Within minutes, both had collapsed onto the floor.

Finally catching his breath, Draco gasped, "GIRL! I was going to say 'girl'."

"What?" Hermione sat up, looking confused.

"I wanted to say that your problems were silly because you're a girl," Draco explained, wiping his face with his sleeve. He looked down at his pajamas; Ruined...

He sighed and continued, "I see that wouldn't have been appropriate either."

Hermione's mouth made a small 'O' before she guffawed loudly. "So--so you weren't going to call me a 'Mudblood'?" she stammered. "Oops."

"That's all you have to say?" Draco growled playfully; he flung his shirt sleeve at her, spraying her with flecks of black ink. "'Oops'?"

"Stop it!" Hermione laughed, turning away from him to retrieve her wand. "Stay still," she ordered. "I'll clean us up."

She turned back to find Draco inches from her. Without a word, he leaned forward taking her chin in his hand. Shocked at first, she started to protest and attempted to pull out of his grip, but Draco would not release her.

He'd only meant to brush Hermione's lips briefly, but when Draco's mouth touched hers, something ignited in him that couldn't be easily extinguished. He grabbed the front of her robes and crushed his mouth to hers.

Realizing she was fighting a losing battle, Hermione gave herself over to Draco's kiss, savoring the sweetness of it as all thoughts of who and where they were seemed to melt away...

Draco licked Hermione's lower lip, causing her mouth to open even wider, and he deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue even further. His mind was reeling from his boldness and he was feeling a little out of control, but he didn’t want to stop. Impulsively, he drew her trembling body against his and lost himself in her faint scent of vanilla.

This is Granger, a little voice hissed in his head. Hermione Granger; you know--the Mudblood!"

For once, Draco didn't care; he shoved those thoughts aside as Hermione gave a tiny satisfied sigh and melted into him. Against his lips, she murmured something incoherent and tried to draw herself closer to him, her fingers finding, then grasping, his white-blonde hair.

A sudden warmth rubbing against his leg startled Draco; he came to his senses and released her so quickly that Hermione nearly fell on her face, taking with her a small chunk of Draco's hair.

Draco looked down, rubbing his scalp. There, staring up at him with the most satisfied smile, was Crookshanks. The boy sneered at the cat, then jerked his attention back to Hermione. He watched the play of emotions on her face and knew she had been affected by his kiss. For several long moments, neither said a word.

Hermione--feeling as though iced water had been thrown on her--frowned. "Wh-why did you stop?" she whispered sadly into the silence, her fingers touching her lips as though she could still feel Draco's upon them.

"You might want to ask your feline."

"What?" Hermione asked thickly, still feeling a bit dazed. With glazed eyes, she scanned the room until she realized her cat was lying near Draco's feet. "Oh!" she gasped stupidly. "Crookshanks, you're a sil--"

"Do you still think I am a child?” Draco interrupted, in the calmest voice he could muster. Speechless, Hermione's face became ashen and she cast her eyes toward the fire.

"I'm not a child!" Draco growled, grasping her chin once again and forcing her to look at him. Hermione seemed to suddenly awaken, for she blinked at him in surprise. "And I'm not made of stone either," Draco finished before releasing her and stalking away, slamming his bedroom door closed.

After a moment, his knees gave out and Draco sank to the floor--his body shaking and his mind racing. When he was finally able to drag himself back to bed, Draco’s dreams were filled with lustful images of a beguiling frizzy haired witch...

"Wot's the right way to tame a Kelpie?" Rubeus Hagrid was asking Monday morning, during his Care of Magical Creatures class. Both the seventh year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had gathered at the edge of the lake, each wondering why they were there. A slight rippling upon the water's surface made several students gasp in excitement; were they going to see a Merperson--or the Giant Squid?

When no one readily responded to Hagrid, everyone turned to look askance at Hermione Granger. Why hadn't she responded, as she was wont to do? It took a moment for all to realize that the bright witch was staring at her feet.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed, nudging her with his elbow.

The Head Girl jumped, cried out "Oh!", blinked many times, and reddened; everyone, including Hagrid, was looking at her, apparently expecting her to say something!

"Er, I...what was the question?"

Almost everyone gasped; it wasn't like Hermione Granger at all to not pay attention in class!

"You all right, 'ermione?" Hagrid asked, clapping a beefy hand on the girl's shoulder and gazing at her with concern.

Hermione reddened once more; "I'm fine, thank you, Hagrid. I've just got alot on my mind at the moment--"

"Probably Draco Malfoy," someone hissed. Hermione whipped around to see who had said that, but all faces were showing curiousity and concern. Maybe I imagined that? she wondered, attempting to plaster a smile on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ron and Harry frowning.

Hermione cleared her throat and brushed a lock of her bushy hair out of her face. "I'm sorry, Hagrid; how rude of me. Please, repeat the question."

Hagrid did and Hermione promptly gave him the answer. A moment later, Hagrid waded into the water and, tugging on the rope he'd held in his hand, pulled a Kelpie to the surface. Many students marveled at the creature and asked to touch it. Hagrid readily agreed and soon nearly all of the class was slipping off their shoes and socks and tying up their robes.

Everyone but Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron hissed at Hermione, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You never act like that!"

"Where is it written that I must pay attention all of the time? I am sorry to disappoint, but I do think about other things sometimes!" Hermione shot back, placing her fists on her hips.

"About what?" Ron asked, his voice filled with sarcasm. "Wait; don't tell me...that git Malfoy?"

Hermione's blood ran cold; she tried to keep a straight face, but something in her eyes caused both Ron and Harry to flinch.

"Hermione," Harry began gently, "what’s going on?"

The Head Girl said nothing for a long time; how could she tell her two best friends that she kissed Draco Malfoy? Would they believe her--or worse, would they hate her? Hermione deducted that Ron would probably stop speaking to her, but Harry...?

Hermione was still coming to terms with the fact that a kiss had even occurred. It wasn't her first kiss, but it was the first kiss that had affected her. Was she so moved because it happened unexpectedly--or was it because it was given by Draco Malfoy--someone who has always hated her?

And what must he think of her now? Draco said nothing to her all morning, not even a civil "hello" when they saw each other in their common room before classes; he'd actually given her a contemptuous look before leaving the room. Hermione's heart had sunk at the moment and she was unsure as to why.

Hence, she thought about it all morning; was he mad at himself? Her? What had she done to upset him? Why was he avoiding her?

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned her head to look across the lake. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Harry. You do understand that, don't you?"

A pained look crossed Harry's face, but he nodded. Ron, on the other hand, blew up.

"Bloody hell, Hermione--have you been snogging Malfoy?" he nearly shouted, his face and ears reddening to a deep scarlet. The students in the water, including Hagrid, turned to look at them, surprise registering on their features; the Kelpie dipped below the surface in fear, showing only its eyes, ears, and nostrils.

"Malfoy ‘s a sodding git--a heel!" Ron raged on, pacing along the lake's edge, fire burning in his eyes. "He's rude, arrogant--and he hates everyone--but mostly you, because you're nothing but a 'filthy Mudblood'--" Ron stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d just said. "Oh! I --I meant--er, that is--" he fumbled apologetically, looking for the right words to say.

But it was too late; Hermione--and several others--gasped, clearly shocked, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. She took a deep breath and the tears seemed to dissipate instantly as her hand balled up into a fist.

Harry, sensing something horrible about to happen, grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him out of Hermione's reach. "Not now, Ron," he said in a low voice. Turning to Hagrid, Harry called out, "I think Ron needs to see Madame Pomfrey, Hagrid; may I take him?"

Hagrid, looking as though he wanted to ask what was going on nodded his great shaggy head instead, waving them on with his free hand; he then tried to direct the other students' attention back to the Kelpie. Hermione was grateful, for tears had gathered at the corners of her eyes and she wanted no one to see them; she turned away form the lake's edge, watching Harry drag a protesting Ron all the way back to the castle.

It took several moments for Hermione to calm down. How dare Ron speak her to her like that! She wanted to whip out her wand and send him scurrying away, flames licking at his robes, but then she realized he wasn't actually calling her a Mudblood, he was just quoting Malfoy.

I should have expected this, she berated herself inwardly; if I can't understand what's happening, how could I expect my friends to do the same? Harry and Ron grew smaller, but Hermione was not seeing them any longer; she was lost in thought. To think that I may lose friends because of Draco Malfoy! It was just a ridiculous kiss! It was stupid, tender, and completely wonder---NO! Hermione gasped, turning on her heel to look back at the group gathered at the lake's edge.

"Don't think about that," she muttered, marching forward determinedly, hoping that becoming involved with the activity would distract her. She owed it to Hagrid to try to participate in his class, but a certain someone wouldn't leave her thoughts. "Draco Malfoy is a stupid git. He's a pompous, rude, arrogant snog--I mean snot! Oh, bloody hell...."

Aggravated with herself and the situation, she gathered up her books and walked away from class; Hagrid, who was still talking about the Kelpie didn't see her go, but her classmates--each of whom whispered to each other like mad--spied her exit and wondered what really took place between the Head Boy and Girl...?

Had Hermione Granger had cracked--just like her friend Ron Weasley? they whispered to one another. And was Draco Malfoy the reason?

*~*~*~*

"I would like to find whomever composed this ridiculous song and turn him into a sodding teapot," Ginny growled, once again looking over the sheet of paper Dumbledore had given her.

She and Luna were in the Great Hall; Dumbledore had asked them to arrive before anyone else, so they could go over their "bit of entertainment" one last time.

Ginny glanced over at Luna, who had traded in her radish earrings and now had set of teabags dangling from her ears; she was also wearing a hat shaped like a teapot, complete with whisps of steam puffing from its spout. The redhead rolled her eyes; Luna was taking this act much too seriously!

Luna hummed the song, making the now-familiar motions with her arms. "I think it'll be great fun," she smiled. "Daddy says that doing things you don't like helps you appreciate them more, so perhaps you'll learn to like Muggle children's verses." She continued humming their song.

Ginny shot Luna an annoyed glance. "I doubt it," she replied evenly. Ginny was about to say more, but a series of muffled voices coming from the door behind the professor's table caught her attention. She waved her hand at Luna, but the blonde girl was too busy flitting about, humming that stupid song.

With a sigh, Ginny decided to see what the fuss was about. It was likely Filch giving a student a stern lecture for being in a restricted area. Ginny grinned slyly; who was getting into trouble this time? She decided to find out. Within two feet of the door, the voices became quite clear.

“I vos not expecting you to be here!” The speaker was clearly shocked.

“Why is that? Did you really think I would run away like that coward you looked up to--Karkaroff?”

Ginny’s ears perked up; that sounded quite like Professor Snape... but to whom was he speaking? Karkaroff? she wondered, What does he have to do with anything?

“I haff never said I looked up to him,” the first voice replied gruffly.

“I assume you are here to give Dumbledore news?” Ginny could just imagine Snape folding his arms and staring down his long nose, attempting to look imposing.


“I haff no idea vhat you are speaking of; I am here for Quidditch.” The stranger sounded confused--and annoyed.

“Likely story; I know all about you,” Snape snarled, “so don’t bother with the disguise. Where’s your mark? Who sent you? What information are you trying to seek?”

There was some movement, then: “I haff no mark! Karkaroff said you vere marked; is this true?”
“That, boy, is none of your business!” Snape barked hoarsely.

This is interesting, Ginny thought, raising one eyebrow. Someone else at Hogwarts bears the mark of You-Know-Who? Ginny learned from Harry that Snape bore a strange mark on his forearm--a mark that meant he was a Death Eater. Ginny had been shocked; a Death Eater--at Hogwarts? But Harry had only said that Dumbledore trusted Snape--and that Head of Slytherin House was working on the side of good now.

However, Harry hadn’t sounded quite so certain and now Ginny suspected why that was: Snape was probably hoping that this person was also a Death-Eater, so he could pass along vital info to him about Dumbledore!

Ginny tried to get Luna’s attention, but Luna had busied herself with creating teacups to spin lazily around the teapot on her head.

“Hopeless,” Ginny muttered. She moved closer, hoping to glean more information, but the voices suddenly stopped and the door was yanked open. Out marched Professor Snape, followed by...Viktor Krum?

Ginny's jaw dropped as she tripped over her own feet, grasping the corner of the table for support. What's he doing here? Is HE a Death-Eater? No! she thought wildly, but immediately something else occurred to her: He's the surprise guest--and I'll wager he's the person I ran into at Hogsmeade! When she righted herself, she was staring up at Professor Snape.

"Looking for something?" Snape’s eyes snapped fire and he looked extremely suspicious.

"I, er..." Ginny glanced at Krum, who was looking quite cross as he absently scanned the Great Hall, rubbing his forearm. Before she could utter another word, Luna let out an excited shriek.

"Oh! There's the sheet of paper we've been looking for!" Luna was suddenly at Ginny's side, snatching the song sheet from the floor. "Thank goodness you found it, Ginevera, or we wouldn't have been able to perform our spot of entertainment for our guest!" Luna looked past Snape to Krum. "Oh, hello," she said with a smile. "Welcome back to Hogwarts."

"What are the two of you doing in the Great Hall at this hour? Shouldn't you be in class--or is that something all of you Weasley's have difficulty doing?" Snape gave Ginny an contemptuous look.

Ginny's face reddened with embarrassment; how dare Snape speak to her thusly--and in front of Krum? Not thinking, she opened her mouth and retorted, "As a matter of fact, I heard you--"

"Professor," Luna cut in quickly, grabbing Ginny'a arm, "you'll be happy to know that we've been learning a new song to sing to our guest." She nodded at Krum, who had taken to staring at Luna's teapot hat.

It was a full minute before Snape said anything. He continued to glare at both girls before snatching the paper from Luna's hand. He scanned it, snorted derisively, then roughly shoved it back at them. "How sweet," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "I can't wait to see the two of you perform this little ditty. Though I don't know why you'd need the practice, Miss Weasley; shouldn't you all ready know this song, seeing how your parents love all things Muggle?" When neither girl took the paper, Snape let it fall to the floor before moving past the girls--Krum close behind him.

It took all that Ginny had to remain calm; it also helped that Luna's hand remained on Ginny's arm, nearly squeezing the feeling out of it. Luna continued smiling even after Snape and Krum walked away, past the floating teacups, the student's tables, and out of the doors into the Entrance Hall. As soon as they disappeared from sight, Luna released Ginny's arm.

"That was pleasant," Luna said airily, smiling broadly. "Krum seems nice; I hear he’s a good Seeker."

"Pleasant!" Ginny exploded, taking note that Luna had actually dug her nails into Ginny's arm. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew--” Ginny halted; she wasn’t certain of anything, so she decided not to say more until she spoke to Harry. Instead, she blurted: "Snape completely embarrassed me in front of Krum!" She wished she could have done a Bat-Bogey Hex on the greasy professor and not gotten into more trouble; at least it would have made her feel better.

Luna put her arm around Ginny and patted her hand consolingly. "Oh, Snape's always grumpy, Ginevra; haven't you noticed? Perhaps his coffin is too small.”

Disclaimer: If you recognize any HP person/place/thing, it belongs to JKR. If not, it's mine--as is the plot.

Chapter 19: WELCOME BACK

Harry Potter did not take his friend Ron Weasley to see Madame Pomfrey; in fact, the pair went as far as the Entrance Hall before they began to argue. Harry was very disappointed in Ron’s treatment of Hermione, but Ron could only focus on one thing: Hermione had snogged Malfoy.

“Let it go, will you?” Harry repeated for the fifth time, rolling his eyes upward. Part of him wanted to clobber his lanky, red-haired friend, but Harry knew only too well the importance for needing to vent and having someone to listen; he lost track of how may times Ron had done the same for him.

“I’m trying, dammit, but it’s not bloody working!” Ron snapped, pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath. “What was she thinking? How can she let that slimy git put his lips on her? That’s disgusting, that’s what that is.”

“You shouldn’t have called her a Mudblood,” Harry replied sagely. “Any chance you might have had getting through to her went out the window when you uttered that word!”

“Don’t you think I know? I didn’t mean to, Harry, honest! I don’t know what came over me.” Ron sighed heavily and pulled a hand through his shaggy red locks. He had done some mean things to Hermione before, but sinking to Malfoy’s level...? That was probably unforgivable in her book.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, students began filling the Entrance Hall, buzzing about their morning entertainment. Many wondered what was going to take place; Ernie MacMillan wagered it would be Veela, while Colin Creevey was convinced that the Weird Sisters had come to perform for them again.

A third year had shouted there was probably another monster in the school; the response to that statement caused almost everyone to double over with laughter.

Only a few noticed a certain white-blonde, rat-faced boy slither through the crowd, making his way toward Harry and Ron; it hadn’t been easy to lose his lackeys, but he’d managed it neatly with a mumbled excuse about needing to see Professor Snape about the previous evening’s Potions assignment.

Draco caught sight of the two as he descended the steps, and had wondered why Hermione was not with them; when he passed a group of seventh year Ravenclaw girls, he overheard one of them telling a very interesting tale.

“Hermione nearly punched him on the nose!” the dark haired girl whispered excitedly. “Of course, I would not have hesitated; no one calls me names and gets away with it...”

Hmm, Draco frowned. Who would make Hermione that upset--and why? He passed Neville Longbottom, who was speaking to a red-haired girl. Draco decided to pause a moment longer, in case Longbottom gave up any useful information; he did not have long to wait.

“Ron said the most horrible thing!” the usually timid and meek boy blurted. “He was obviously very upset about Hermione snogging someone (Malfoy, I think), and he called her a Mudblood!”

Neville’s companion’s jaw dropped. “No! How awful for Hermione! That was not very nice; what did she do?”

Neville shrugged, obviously still bewildered. “Harry dragged Ron away, but I swear Hermione nearly drew her wand to...” It was then that he noticed Draco; Neville’s eyes grew round, and he stammered an apology, dragging his female friend away.

Normally, the sight of Longbottom would give Draco cause to do something rude, but this time his thoughts were elsewhere. How like Weasley to botch up any sort of relationship with a girl, Draco thought with a shake of his head. This could prove useful for me...

Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he sought out Hermione in the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. A small pang of concern seared through him, but he quickly tamped it down; it would do him no good to feel for Granger, not when he had bigger fish to fry.

Speaking of... Draco thought slowly, I wonder what I can glean from Potty Head and Weasless? He moved closer to the two friends, and hid behind three tall sixth year Slytherins, who were standing only six feet away from Harry and Ron.

It was difficult to hear them, as everyone was talking in loud, excited voices, but Draco was able to snatch pieces of the pair’s conversation.

Harry’s voice was first. “I... ought to... Hermione... we should... alienate her... she’s... with... Malfoy... now.”

Ron appeared to be nodding his head. “All right, mate... I hope she... grovel... would love that... never let... forget...”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise; these two wanted to shun Hermione and make her grovel--all because he, Draco, snogged her?

And I thought I was brutal, Draco snorted silently; he wondered if he should seek out Hermione and give her the bad news, but decided to wait until this evening when they were doing their patrols; her reaction would be much more interesting...

Draco tried to hear more, but the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, revealing Professors McGonagall and Flitwick in its massive doorway.

“May I have your attention, please?” Minerva McGonagall called, clapping her hands together. Within seconds, all was silent; no one wanted a reprimand from the Transfiguration teacher. She might be fair, but she certainly was tough.

“We’ve called you all together today for two reasons,” Professor McGonagall continued. “The first being that Madame Hooch has so graciously consented to allow someone new to referee the first two Quidditch matches of the year...”

“And the second,” Professor Flitwick squeaked loudly, “is that two of your very own classmates will be providing entertainment for us as we introduce you to this new referee!”

“Is the new referee one of the Weasley twins?” someone called out. Everyone laughed; the Fred and George Weasley were the most famous Gryffindor Beaters in the history of Hogwarts’ Quidditch. Even though the twins now ran a joke shop on Diagon Alley, many hoped the pair would return to the school one more time.

“No, neither of those two disobedient jokesters will be making an appearance here today,” Professor McGonagall replied tartly, admonishing the speaker with a severe look. “But we do have someone not unfamiliar to many--if not all of you, so please come inside, be seated, and be polite! Lunch will be served immediately following the performance, so please remain in the Hall.”

“Thank you!” Professor Flitwick twittered, stepping aside to allow students to pass.

The sight that greeted the students made many giggle and others to guffaw loudly; delicate, flowered teacups and saucers hovered in the air above the long rows of tables. Little bluebirds flitted about, chirping gaily as they zoomed over the heads of the students.

At the front of the Great Hall stood Professor Dumbledore in a long gold robe covered with tiny purple stars. His hands were clasped in front of him and he peered at the crowd over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“Welcome, welcome,” he called out cheerfully, as a single bluebird landed on his shoulder. It appeared, for the barest of moments, to speak to him--and he it--when it took flight once again. The tiny bird made several lazy circles then came to rest on the left shoulder of Argus Filch and proceeded to relieve itself on the man’s grubby green coat before flying away once more.

“I do believe,” Professor Dumbledore said in an amused tone, having witnessed this, “that that is a sign of good luck.”

The entire room exploded into laughter as Filch glared at the Headmaster.

“Oh, yes!” Professor Trelawney piped up from her seat at the Professors’ table. “Would you like me to read the droppings?” She half-stood, ready to push back her seat and scurry to Filch’s side.

”No!” Filch cried over the further screams of amusement, scooping up a howling Mrs. Norris, and making a beeline for the exit.

Several moments later, the laughter died down as Dumbledore motioned for silence.

“Where’s Ginny?” Ron whispered to Harry, noticing that his sister was not at their table.

Harry glanced around. “I don’t know,” he replied in a low tone. “Perhaps this was part of her punishment. Maybe she and Luna had to stay away while we get treated to something...?”

Ron shrugged then turned his attention back to Dumbledore, who was in the middle of his speech.

“... a fine person of upstanding citizenship. This person was once a guest at Hogwarts and we were grateful that he has accepted the invitation to return here--despite the tragic events that surrounded his last visit--to become our special guest referee for only two Hogwarts’ Quidditch games. That said, I needn’t remind all of you to be on your best behavior while our guest resides in the castle. ” He peered bemusedly at the crowd. “I understand that our guest can cause quite a ruckus--”

“Oh, no, Professor!” Seamus Finnigan called out. “ It’s not Gilderoy Lockhart--is it?”

Again, laughter filled the hall, but this time there was a twinge of nervousness there. Many people remembered all too well the last time Lockhart had been in Hogwarts. Mayhem and near-death had almost caused the school to close--not to mention the gaggles of girls falling all over themselves just to get a peak at him.

Most silently hoped it wasn’t Gilderoy Lockhart, even though Dumbledore’s description of their guest sounded remarkably so.

“No, Mr. Finnigan, I am sorry to disappoint you. However, I could call Professor Lockhart back, if you’d like...?” Dumbledore turned away, reaching for a quill and parchment that lay near his place at the teacher’s table.

“NO!” The denial rang out clear as a bell--in more than one voice.

“As I thought,” chuckled Dumbledore, returning to his place at the top of the steps. “Now, as I was saying.... please welcome back our friend and guest referee... Mister Viktor Krum, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy!” With a grand sweep of his arm, Dumbledore stepped back as the side door beyond the teacher’s table was thrown open to reveal Viktor Krum, seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch Team.

Several seconds shocked silence greeted Krum as he stepped through the doorway. For a fleeting moment he wondered if coming back to Hogwarts had been a good idea. Then, without warning, screams of elation hit Krum like a tidal wave and he stepped back, stunned. Quickly recovering, however, he forged ahead and met Dumbledore halfway, clasping the older man’s upper arm and hand in greeting.

Many of the students could barely contain themselves; most were clamoring into their bags for quills and parchment, hoping to garner an autograph, while others were pushing Colin Creevey to the front, requesting he take several photographs of the famous international sport star.

Harry and Ron fell back onto the bench, bewildered; this was an unexpected treat indeed. However, instead of celebrating and welcoming Krum along with their fellow classmates, both were thinking of something else entirely: Who was going to tell Hermione about this odd turn of events?