Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 12

An Accomplice of Sorts

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were milling about staircase in the entrance hall after having just finished a conversation with Seamus and Dean about Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes when the inevitable happened.

The moment he heard Pansy Parkinson's sly voice utter his name in a purposely loud voice, Harry felt his stomach clench.

"The Love Potions were marvelous, of course. I knew they would be." She gave a mock sigh, and the small group of Slytherin girls with her nodded eagerly for her to continue. "Blaise was . . . quite a charmer." Pansy gave a fake laugh. "Not that we were the only couple having fun. Potter and Granger seemed to be quite into it, too . . ."

Harry felt his face turn red as Pansy gave him a sideways glance, a manipulative smirk on her face. Seamus had stopped in mid-sentence, and he and Dean, who had been walking up the stairs, paused to look at them. Harry glanced quickly at Hermione; she had become paler than he'd ever seen her and was darting nervous looks at Ron. Harry knew it was foolish hoping that the redhead hadn't heard.

"What is she talking about?" Ron asked, not trying to lower his voice. He glared at the Slytherins. "You guys said nothing happened."

"Yeah . . ." Hermione said faintly.

"Granger, I couldn't help but overhear you." Pansy gave a simpering laugh as she stepped towards them.

"Sure you couldn't," Harry muttered.

"Pansy, go away," Hermione said fiercely. Harry was relieved to see a little color had come back into her cheeks; for a moment he had thought she might faint.

Pansy didn't look perturbed. "I was under the impre-"

"Clear off," Ron said angrily, gesturing for her to leave. "You heard Hermione. Nothing happened between her and Harry."

Pansy gave him a condescending look. Her eyes roved to Harry, and, as if there had been guidelines written somewhere, he reddened accordingly. She was daring him to confess; somehow- probably from the lack of angry outburst from Ron- she knew that they hadn't told him.

"Really, Weasley?" she said, doing a bad impression of sounding innocent. "Because, unlike you, I was smart enough to be in that class, so I actually saw them."

Ron's ears had gone red at the insult. "What are you insinuating?" he snapped. "If something had happened, Harry and Hermione would have told me." By now a fair number of six years were watching them, and even a couple seventh years had stopped. There was a feeling of heaviness upon Harry as he heard his best friend unknowingly defend them from the truth.

"Ron," he said quietly.
"So stop saying ridiculous things-"

"Ron," Hermione repeated.

"What?" he asked in annoyance, turning to glance at her. His eyes widened at the ashamed look on her face, and he slowly glanced at Harry.

"You mean they never told you?" Pansy asked in mock surprise. "How silly of them to forget! I would've thought Potter and Granger would have told everyone they know. After all, it's not often Gryffindors are involved in such romantic action." This time she laughed loudly, and her group of Slytherins joined in.

Harry was furious. Not only had she deliberately told Ron to make him angry, she was also exaggerating. Pansy was making it sound like he and Hermione had- he didn't even want to think about it.

"Shut up," he said angrily, and Pansy was temporarily rendered speechless.

"Tell her she doesn't know what she's talking about," Ron said, his voice dulled somewhat, as if he already knew the answer. He looked at Harry hard. "Well?"

"Ron," Hermione began in a pleading tone, her cheeks crimson.

Ron ignored her and swung around to face Harry. "Did you kiss her?" he asked angrily, not bothering to lower his voice.

There was a hushed silence in the hall, and Harry wondered if it had been that quiet a moment ago. He doubted it.

"Did you?" Ron asked again.

Harry gave a short, heavy nod. Ron stared at him in utter shock for a moment, then turned to Hermione, as if hoping she would deny it.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said miserably.

"Well . . . that's nice," Ron said in an odd voice. Contrary to the supposed reaction, he turned rather white instead of red. He turned stiffly back to Harry. "I'm going upstairs to get my notes. I'll meet you guys in Transfiguration." Without another word, he walked up the stairs, his movements jerky.

Harry watched, knowing nothing he said would make Ron come down. He didn't even look back as he continued up the next staircase, still moving mechanically, as if in a trance.

Heart sinking, he glanced at Hermione, who looked stricken. Pansy was triumphant.

"Really, Potter. You didn't even tell your best friend?" Pansy laughed in cruel amusement before turning around and walking swiftly away.

Harry was shaking in anger. He wouldn't curse her in front of dozens of students but he would think of some kind of revenge. Pansy Parkinson would not get away with deliberately trying to turn Ron against them.

He looked to Hermione, and she glanced back. To his surprise, there was a resolute expression on her face.

"It was going to happen," she said dully. She turned to the crowding students still watching them. "If you're waiting for a fight I suggest you go somewhere else, because there's not going to be one here." She glared at them as a few shifted uncomfortably. "If I need to get McGonagall, I will."

With a few grumblings and plenty of curious looks, the students disbanded, heading in various directions and chatting softly, sending furtive glances their way. Harry caught sight of Conrad Johnson walking down towards the dungeons, and knew their newest Chaser had been listening acutely.

"Let's go to class," Hermione sighed, turning to head up the stairs and ignoring Seamus and Dean, who tried to waylay her for details.

"Shouldn't we find-" Harry began.

Hermione shook her head firmly. "Don't be silly. He doesn't want to see us right now. We'll talk to him when he's ready to talk to us."

Harry, not sure whether this was the best idea but knowing he had no other choice, followed her up the stairs.

* * *

Ron had been oddly formal all afternoon. To Harry and Hermione's great surprise, he had been nothing but courteous, giving them forced, but polite smiles. He hadn't stopped speaking to them, either, though he never initiated conversation.

Harry had been exchanging worried glances with Hermione all day, but when he pulled her aside after Transfiguration, she couldn't figure out his strange behavior either.

"He's acting almost as if he . . . doesn't care," Hermione said, frowning.

"Or as if he's trying not to," Harry muttered.

"Oh, hello," Ron said from behind them, his voice oddly high. He had emerged late from Transfiguration, having packed his bag with unusual slowness. His face was still unnaturally pale, his freckles stark against the pallor. There was a strained look on his face as he glanced Harry to Hermione.

"Were you discussing anything important?"

"No," Hermione said hastily. "Just- Ron, you've been acting strangely since we told you."

"You didn't tell me," Ron said, his voice distant. For the first time Harry heard a small hint of anger. "You waited until Pansy gave you no other choice." His expression was daring him to deny it, and Harry found he couldn't.

"Ron, it was wrong of us not to tell you," he began as they walked down the hall to their next lesson. "But-"

"Harry, could we talk about this later?" Ron interrupted. "I need to ask Neville something." Leaving them without another glance, he hurried swiftly down the hall to Neville, who looked immensely surprised at his new company.

"Sure he does," Harry said, resentful of the fact that Ron wasn't even letting him apologize.

Hermione just sighed.

Later that evening, after several more similar discussions in which Ron had found an excuse to leave abruptly every time, Harry found himself more than a bit annoyed when he saw Ron enter the common room and go sit at a table opposite of where he and Hermione sat doing homework.

"If he'd just listen to us we could explain it was an accident!" Harry whispered angrily to Hermione. She nodded, tired, and glanced at her watch. Harry frowned, preoccupied; she had been doing that all evening, as if she had someplace else to be.

"Let's go talk to him," Hermione urged, gathering up her books and parchment. "I think he's more hurt than angry."

Harry nodded silently as he, too, repacked his bag. They walked to the other side of the room where Ron sat alone, hunched over his homework.

"Mind if we work here?" Hermione asked lightly, setting her bag down and pulling out a chair beside him.

Ron shrugged.

Hermione, her expression faltering somewhat at his lack of reaction, sat anyway and gestured for Harry to do the same.

"Are you going to let us explain what happened?" Hermione asked, sounding nervous again.

Once again Ron shrugged. "What's to explain?" he mumbled. "You kissed. No big deal."

"But it is a big deal," Harry exclaimed frustrated. "We-" He stopped, his eyes narrowing at what'd he'd just admitted. Ron looked satisfied, not triumphant.

"We didn't mean to," Hermione began, giving Harry a reproachful look. "It was all the Love Potion's fault. We would never have taken it if we'd had a choice."

"You're going to stay friends with us, right?" Harry asked quickly. "It hasn't wrecked Hermione's and mine friendship."

Ron snorted. "Course not," he said suddenly. "Why would it?"

Harry was too relieved that Ron had finally reacted to be immediately bothered by his words. "Exactly! Just because of one measly kiss we're not going to- what did you say? Of course it could have hurt our friendship," Harry said indignantly.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Well, the friendship, maybe. You don't seem too upset about what came of it, though."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, sounding both worried and frustrated. "We're very upset about what happened."

Ron looked skeptical. "Hermione," he said dryly, sounding amused for the first time since their encounter with Pansy. "You don't need to pretend. You don't need to try to hide your feelings just to protect mine." He sounded bitter for some reason. "If you and Harry like each other that much you don't need my permission."

For a moment there was absolute silence, and then Hermione burst out laughing. Harry glanced at her, confused. Not only was Ron not making sense, but if Harry did understand him correctly, then there was nothing to be laughing about. Did Ron honestly think that he and Hermione wanted to be a couple?

"That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard!" Hermione choked out, nearly crying from mirth. Harry had never seen her laugh so hard.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, irked slightly that the thought of him as a boyfriend was amusing Hermione so much. They wouldn't have made that bad of a couple if they'd had the inclination.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Ron suspiciously. "You're starting to scare the pixies."

Indeed, Aqua was staring at Hermione nervously, and Sprink was actually calm for once, too busy watching her curiously to continue tearing off the corners of Ron's homework.

"I just think it's funny that that's what you've been mad about all afternoon," Hermione finally said, gasping for breath as she fanned the air, her face red.

"I haven't been mad . . ." Ron started to protest.

Hermione made a noise of disbelief. "Don't be silly. You've been acting strange all afternoon. And it's because you think Harry and I are a couple now?" She looked as if she were about to start laughing again.

"Well . . . yeah," Ron said, perplexed. "I thought that was why you kept on having all those secret conversations. You both were acting so strange after Potions that day, and neither of you would tell me what had happened. After this morning's conversation with Pansy I thought it all made sense."

Hermione turned to Harry. "Don't you see how funny this is? Ron was upset because he actually thought he was the third wheel!"

"Well, I don't see what makes that so hilarious," Ron said grumpily. Harry just raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Oh, see," Hermione struggled to explain, miffed that they weren't also amused. "Ron's not mad about the kiss, he's mad because he thinks that Harry and I are dating!"

Ron looked hopeful. "So you're not a couple, then?"

"No," Harry exclaimed, glad to finally have one straight answer.

There was another short silence. Ron looked immensely surprised.

"Really?" he asked finally.

Hermione shook her head, grinning. "No. We're not. I have absolutely no feelings for Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said shortly, though he was beginning to grin as well. If that was really what Ron had been upset about, then there was a certain ironic humor to it.

"You know what I mean," Hermione said abashedly.

Ron was grinning as well, looking relieved. "So I'm not making it a crowd?"

"Of course not," Hermione said. "Ron, even if Harry and I did fancy each other we would never stop being friends with you."

"Of course not," Ron repeated. "I knew that."

Hermione, trying to hide a smile, nodded.

"I can't believe that's why you haven't been talking to us the whole afternoon," Harry marveled. "Over something that isn't even true."

"We were really worried you wanted to stop being friends," Hermione added. She blushed, glancing at the table. "That's why we didn't tell you. We thought you'd get really angry."

There was a pause. Ron was back to frowning.

"You should've told me."

"We know," Harry said heavily. "But after it happened we were afraid that our friendship would be ruined and we didn't want to risk yours as well."

"I wouldn't have stopped being friends with you just because you kissed," Ron said slowly, after another pause. "But-" There was a pained expression on his face. "Did you have to?"

"It was an accident," Hermione said in a small voice. "It just . . . happened."

Ron was again silent, thinking. "I thought you said it was nicknamed the Blushing Potion, because nothing serious ever happened," he said broodingly.

Hermione frowned. "Yes, I've been a bit confused about that, too. It doesn't make sense that the Blushing Potion invoked such . . ." Her blush deepened. "Feelings."

There was an uncomfortable silence. None of them would look at each other, and Harry found himself desperately wishing they could travel back in time to before the disastrous Potions class.

"Wish I had done something to Snape," Ron grumbled after a moment. He looked quite sore. "So Harry's Hermione's first kiss, Hermione is Harry's second, and I still haven't properly asked a girl out."

"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil," Harry reminded him.

Ron made a face. "Harry, you asked her for me."

Harry winced. A sudden memory came to mind and he grinned slyly. "What about that girl you fancy?"

Ron reddened. "I didn't fancy her," he retorted sharply. "I thought she was pretty." He sighed. "I think I'm over her now, though."

Harry frowned and glanced at Hermione, who looked just as confused. "Who was it? If you don't fancy her anymore you can tell us."

Ron was still bright red. "Harry . . . promise you won't be mad- I don't fancy her anymore," he added quickly.

"Who is it?" Hermione asked curiously.

Ron mumbled a name under his breath that Harry had to strain to hear.

"Sorry?" asked Hermione.

"Cho," Ron said in a barely audible voice. He was scarlet.

Harry was sure for a moment that he hadn't heard right. His mind had temporarily stopped thinking and his ears had ceased to hear.

"Cho?" he said with some difficulty.

Ron looked concerned. "But I don't fancy her," he reminded hastily. "Remember that."

"Cho?" Hermione asked, surprised. She glanced at Harry thoughtfully. "I thought you were acting strangely around her. You've been acting the same way Harry has around Angelina."

Harry nearly choked. "Around- who?"

"Angelina?" exclaimed Ron, mystified.

"Would you lower your voice?" Harry demanded anxiously.

Hermione muffled laughter. "Ron, how did you not notice?"

"Hermione, how did you notice?" Harry asked. He felt oddly light, as if a burden had been lifted now that someone had actually spoken the words for his feelings aloud.

"You like Angelina?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"We're talking about Cho," Harry reminded him. "Don't try to change the subject."

"I don't fancy her," said Ron loudly. "And I'm sorry, Harry, but I thought you didn't like her anymore. Besides, nothing happened. I never even spoke to her."

"Why not?" asked Hermione sympathetically. "She wasn't rude, was she?"

Ron looked startled. "No. It was something I heard her say. She was heading back from Quidditch practice with her friends, and I heard them talking in the hallway." He gave Harry a strange, almost sympathetic look. "She still misses Cedric, mate. And you. She was talking about both of you in the hall. Cho said she didn't think she'd ever find anyone, and one of her friends said of course she would. One girl suggested you, Harry, and Cho seemed really sad about that. She said it hadn't worked out last year, but she looked awfully wistful when she said it." Ron reddened. "I wouldn't have asked her out without asking you first, even if I did still fancy her."

There was an odd feeling in Harry's stomach. It was true he had stopped liking Cho the previous year but- it was nice to know she still had fond feelings of him, the way he did of her, he had finally forgiven her for sticking up for Marietta Edgecombe. Was it true, what she had said? he wondered. Could their relationship have worked if circumstances had been different? He would probably never know.

"Poor Cho," Hermione said softly. She was looking at her watch again.

Harry nodded. He glanced at Ron, who was staring back nervously. "I'm not mad," he said quickly. "If you're not mad about what happened in Potions."

For a moment it looked as if Ron would disagree, for there was a small scowl on his face, but then he nodded.

"Deal." He sighed. "I can't believe you two have both been kissed already. And with each other, nonetheless."

"You're never going to let us forget it, are you," said Hermione dryly.

"No. I shall remember it my entire life."

"Right, then."

* * *

After her conversation with Harry and Ron and a few hurried minutes of homework Hermione had finally been able to excuse herself. She pulled open the door to the Room of Requirement, wondering if Draco was going to be there. She would be very much annoyed if he wasn't.

"Hello," he said, glancing up as she entered. Hermione involuntarily smiled slightly. Instead of his usual seat at the table he was sitting stiffly on the sofa, looking oddly formal. There was a nervous expression on his face, and Hermione studied him carefully as she sat down at a chair, facing him.

"Well?" she prompted, knowing he wanted to talk.

Draco took a deep breath. "About last night . . ."

"Yes?"

Draco hesitated, looking uncertain. "Er . . . sorry for getting mad and saying that," he said awkwardly, reddening slightly. "It- it wasn't my business," he added abruptly.

Hermione accepted his apology graciously with a nod. "Thank you."

There was more silence, not unlike the ones that had been commonplace in their explanation to Ron.

"Are you going to tell me why you were so upset?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

Draco was visibly uncomfortable. He was glancing steadfast at anything but her. Hermione sighed inwardly. Teenage boys could be so incredibly trying.

"I was offended by the fact . . . that Potter kissed you. Not you in particular," he added quickly. "Just by the whole idea that Potter in particular would be getting

more . . ."

"Romantic action than you are?" Hermione prompted, wondering whether to laugh or be annoyed.

Draco nodded slightly, reddening. "Exactly."

"So you're jealous?" Hermione inquired, trying to keep from smiling.

"Of course not," Draco objected, looking shocked. "Well, not jealous of Potter, at least." He looked as if the idea was frankly revolting. "Just . . . upset I missed it."

"You're upset because you missed the Love Potion, which was entirely disastrous and not at all fun."

"I think so," Draco said, sounding unsure. He glanced at her reproachfully. "Now you've got me confused."

"So what you're saying is," Hermione added, beginning to enjoy herself. "You were mad that all the other boys in the class all had girls fancying them, but you're particularly annoyed because Harry- whom you of course think is the most dislikable boy at Hogwarts- is currently leading a more active romantic life than you are. And I suppose you are assuming that you're the most attractive, experienced boy in our year?"

Draco paused, deciphering her words, and then gave a short nod.

Hermione wondered briefly why she was giving him all the answers, why it was she and not he who was filling in the blanks. It was almost as if she didn't want to stay mad at him. Which she didn't, obviously, she reasoned. After all, they somewhat enjoyed themselves during their meetings; Draco was actually amusing and quite a good conversationalist when he wanted to be. Not to mention completely arrogant, she admitted to herself.

"And," Draco said suddenly, and a faint pale blush had crept into his cheeks. "I might have had a few, er, jealous feelings about . . . Pansy." He was crimson.

Hermione was mystified. "I thought you said-"

"Well, you couldn't have expected me to tell you," Draco said, clearly irritated she was pursuing the subject. "I knew Blaise liked her, but I didn't think . . ."

"It was only because of the Love Potion," Hermione said comfortingly. "Just like it was between Harry and me." She paused, smiling slightly. "You and Ron had about the same reaction."

All the color had drained from Draco's face, and he looked horrified. "Did you just compare me to Weasley?" he sputtered.

Hermione glanced at him wryly. "Perhaps."

The indignant look on his face made her wish Colin Creevey were around to take a photo. After a moment it faded, and he sulked quietly instead, his arms crossed.

Hermione stared at him, considering whether or not to drop it and accept his apology. There was still something nagging at her, though. Draco had told her several times already he hadn't liked Pansy, and yet here he was saying the exact opposite. What he'd said about boys keeping whom they fancied a secret was true, but his confession still didn't make sense.

"So you weren't upset by the fact that I kissed Harry, you were upset that such a "horrible" person would be in such a "lucky situation. And Pansy, of course?" she asked finally, just to clarify one last time.

Draco slowly nodded. Was it her imagination, Hermione wondered, or had he hesitated?

"And I suppose I might've been a bit mad on . . . your behalf." Draco was back to being red again. "After all, Potter must be a terrible kisser," he added quickly. The color left his face as quickly as it had come. "I must get those mental images our of my head."

Hermione laughed. "He's snogged before. And he isn't too terrible at it."

Draco looked intrigued despite himself. "He has? Potter? You're sure it was a girl, because some of us Slytherins thought . . ." His voice trailed off at Hermione's furious look, and he glanced abashedly at the table top.

"Cho Chang," Hermione said with barely contained calmness. "The Ravenclaw Seeker."

Draco shook his head sorrowfully. "Such a pretty girl deflowered. And we thought Ravenclaws were clever."

"Harry didn't deflower her," Hermione said, horrified. "How could you think that?"

Draco's expression changed from startled to absolutely revolted again. "I didn't mean that! Any girl who willingly snogs Potter is deflowered!"

Hermione wanted to be offended by his attacks on her friend, but there was a pressing question she needed to ask. "Am I deflowered?" she asked in a voice so quietly dangerous she almost dared him to say yes.

He glanced at her nervously. "Er."

"Tell the truth," Hermione said coldly.

"No," Draco said in a small voice. "It was only the Love Potion." He struggled to continue speaking. "It wasn't your fault." Somehow, perhaps from the way he looked her straight in the eye, she knew he was telling the truth.

Hermione took a deep breath. "What you said yesterday was really- mean." There was no other word to describe it. How Draco had insinuated that Harry and Ron were only friends with her because of a Love Potion- that was nonsense, but it had hurt.

Draco reddened. "I am sorry." To her surprise he did sound a bit ashamed, like he actually meant it.

"Then I accept your apology," Hermione said at last, oddly formal.

Draco looked relieved. "Thanks," he muttered quickly. He stood up from the couch to join her at the table.

"Stay there," Hermione said quickly, and he frowned, sitting slowly back down. "I'm not done talking. We need to discuss something else."

Draco stared at her curiously, waiting for her to speak.

Hermione took a deep breath, wondering how to phrase what she wanted to say. "Have you- do you know- are you ever going to try and break the curse you're under?"

If she had hoped Draco would stop staring at her so intensely, she was quite wrong. His eyes widened in surprise, but other than that his expression did not change.

"Yes," he said after a short pause. "I- I've thought about trying to figure out what curse it even is. I just keep on getting caught up in different activities. I'm-" he finally looked away and muttered in a small voice, "I'm adapting."

"You're always saying, 'Once this is all over,' but how is it going to end if you don't do something about it?" Hermione asked awkwardly.

Draco was silent for a few minutes, and Hermione was wondering if she would have to repeat the question when he spoke.

"I want to. I thought of trying to look up strange potions in the library," said Draco finally. "I have no idea what to look for, though."

"A body switching potion might be a good place to start," suggested Hermione dryly.

Draco made a face before replying. "Well, it's not exactly switching, is it? After all, no one's running around in my body . . . my appearance was just altered."

"So start with that," encouraged Hermione. A sudden idea came to her. "Think of needing to find the potion," she urged. "Remember all the details you can and then try to picture yourself looking for the information."

"Wh-" began Draco, but he quieted at her impatient look. He presumably did as she'd instructed, because for a few moments he sat in contemplative silence. Hermione smiled triumphantly as she saw several books appear in random spots on the already filled bookcases, which she had been watching closely. She pointed them out, and Draco's eyes widened.

He got up and ran his fingers over the newly appeared spines, reading the titles aloud for her benefit.

"Mysterious Medieval Concoctions, Illegal Potions Through Time, Most Potente Potions-"

"Try that one," exclaimed Hermione, leaping to her feet at the name and crossing to join him. Draco obligingly pulled it off the shelf and started thumbing through it. Hermione saw a familiar heading on one page before he quickly turned it, and she was struck by vivid memories of their Polyjuice Potion ordeal. She blushed involuntarily, glad that Draco did not see and ask questions; she was pretty sure he would not appreciate hearing how she, Harry, and Ron had tricked him in second year.

"Why don't you look through it tonight," suggested Hermione, pulling a few more books out to look at herself. "Do you remember anything about the potion they gave you?"

Draco thought for a moment, a concentrated expression on his face. "It was pure white. I remember thinking it looked like milk. That's what I thought it was," he admitted, blushing slightly. "They brought it with dinner one night, and I drank it." He paused, and an ashamed look spread across his face as he glanced at her. "They didn't have to use torture at all; I was just being stupid. Like you said."

There was enough bitterness in his tone for Hermione not to be offended when she recalled his statement after she had first learned his real identity.

"You're not stupid," she said awkwardly. "A bit foolish, maybe, but not stupid."

Draco attempted to smile. "I thought maybe it was a joke, that they would let me go in a few days."

"Where were you held?" Hermione asked softly.

"One of my father's . . . associates was staying at our manor for the night; I'm pretty sure I was drugged and taken to a house. It looked like a cellar, anyway. I don't even know what they told Mum, what story they made up about my "death." I think I was there for about two days before the potion." His face was screwed up as he struggled to remember the details. "It was in late August, right before school started. The Death Eaters-" his tone was hollow as he called them by their real name- "told me it would be no good going to others for help because they were just following the Dark Lord's orders. Besides, like I said, I'm the only one who can break the curse."

"But you don't know how?" inquired Hermione.

Draco shook his head. "No."

"But you will once we figure out what potion they gave you," said Hermione, attempting to sound cheerful. She patted the book she was holding. "And I'll help."

Draco smiled, looking much happier than a moment before. "Thanks."

"We'll find the answer," said Hermione encouragingly. "And then-"

She did not finish the thought, for the same idea seemed to have occurred to both of them at the same time. After then- what next? Would they be enemies again?

"And then we'll take it from there," said Draco firmly, and Hermione was surprised and pleased at how sure he sounded.

"We'll take it from there," she echoed.

When the study session ended, they left, neither angry, and both smiling.

* * *

Hermione spent a fruitless evening combing the pages of the books she'd taken from the Room of Requirement. The next few days she was busy with a sudden bout of homework, which ordinarily wouldn't have been a problem, except that she had to help Harry and Ron, as well, and that was hard work in and of itself. Unfortunately the books weren't much help when she eventually got around to reading them. They had descriptions of the most intricate, dangerous potions Hermione had ever heard of, ones such as gender switching and one potion that would, for a temporary amount of time, give its user the power to turn objects into gold by touching them (Hermione was starting to understand where several fairytales came from). They were fascinating, of course, and a thoroughly enjoyable read, but they weren't particularly helpful in the way they needed.

"There wasn't much." Hermione said grimly at their next meeting. "I only found one possible potion, but it's unlikely. It's a potion to change your appearance to specifically a different age; however, if that's what they used you'd still be blonde and look the way you did in first year. They could have mixed potions to change your appearance but that's highly dangerous and it would only be temporary. Unless, of course, they mixed in an Everlasting Potion as well, which could cause serious side effects-"

She stopped speaking abruptly at the amused look on his face.

"Well, I don't know what's so funny," she huffed. "I'm just pointing out the possibilities. Did you find anything?"

Draco paused. "I think so," he said, a small quiver of suppressed excitement in his voice as he heaved a book onto the table. It was Most Potente Potions.

"It's definitely not the Polyjuice Potion," Draco began, and Hermione turned crimson. "But there's one potion in here that sounds promising."

"Fabulous," said Hermione, a bit too enthusiastically as she tried to keep him from noticing her flushed cheeks. Luckily he was too enthused to notice.

"It doesn't even have a name, it's so old," Draco continued. "But it's a potion that will change a person into a completely different physical being." He paled slightly. "There's another similar potion that can be used with it to completely reshape the personality as well to the point where you don't even remember who you were."

"Something tells me they didn't use that on you," Hermione commented, revolted at his description. That kind of potion would not only reshape your body, it would change you into a different person.

Draco made a face at her. "How funny, Granger. Unless specific ingredients are used it will changed the user's appearance randomly and is permanent until broken by the user."

"And how do you do that?"

Draco was silent, at a loss for words. He slid the book across the table to her and, taking it curiously, she began to read.

"This potion, commonly used on cowards and miscreants in the Medieval Ages before it was banned can only be broken when the user faces his or her greatest fear and conquers it. Only then will he or she return to his or her normal state . . ."

Hermione stopped reading and looked at him. "What's your greatest fear?" It was a simple question but somehow she didn't think it would be that easy.

Of course, she was right.

Draco shrugged, his brow furrowed as he thought. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it until now," he admitted.

Hermione pondered the question for a minute but was unable to think of an answer either. When she was little and hadn't yet discovered she was a witch her greatest fear had been sharks. Now, after being introduced to all kids of scary, magical things she was no longer sure.

"What if one of your friends or family members died?" she asked finally.

Draco shook his head. "My friends-" He paused, and an inscrutable look crossed his face. "I don't know anyone well enough for that to be a greatest fear, and my

parents . . ."

He didn't finish, and Hermione didn't ask him to. It was perfectly clear that while he did love his parents, the Malfoys were not a normal family.

"That's great that you found it," Hermione said at last, when she couldn't think of any more suggestions that could apply to Draco's greatest fear; after all, she barely knew him. Draco nodded absent-mindedly.

"Are you finished with the book?" she inquired. "Do you mind if I look at it tonight?"

"Do I have a choice?" Draco asked dryly before handing it over.

Hermione took it and immediately began reading the text. When she had reached the third sentence and she had still not heard Draco take out any essays for her to look at, she glanced up.

Draco was staring at her almost nervously. She could tell from the hesitant way he kept preparing himself to speak and then falling silent that he had bad news.

"What is it?"

Draco cleared his throat. "About the Love Potions . . ."

Hermione waited patiently for him to continue, wondering if he thought she was still mad at him; he had already apologized.

He cleared his throat again. "I was in the dungeons the other day."

"Pretending you're a Slytherin," Hermione clarified.

He spared her a brief, real glare. "I am a Slytherin, in case you've forgotten."

"Masquerading as a Gryffindor," Hermione added, grinning.

"It makes spying so easy," Draco shot back. "Shall I continue with what I was trying to say?"

"Yes, please do."

Satisfied, he continued. "I overheard Pansy talking the other day."

Hermione instinctively glared at hearing the Slytherin girl's name.

"She-" At this point Draco looked mildly embarrassed. "She was gossiping with some other Slytherins and talking about the Love Potions lesson."

There was a feeling of foreboding in the back of Hermione's mind, but she couldn't explain why.

For a moment it seemed he was steeling himself to speak. "It's her fault you kissed Potter," Draco blurted out in a rush. "She added the second halves of the Ashwinder eggs to your potions so they would be more effective. She had just come out of Slytherin and I was behind the next corner; I heard her laughing about it and telling her friends." He glanced at her almost anxiously, as if afraid she would direct anger on him.

For a moment Hermione could not believe nor comprehend what she was hearing. And then, as if she had known it all along, it made sense. She knew the potion, which had after all been nicknamed the "Blushing Potion" shouldn't have made her kiss Harry. It was, like Ron had remembered, not strong enough. The thought had never occurred to her, though, that someone- Pansy, to be exact- could have sabotaged their potions for a "laugh." Her face went red as she once more pictured Pansy Parkinson's sneering expression as she left them no other choice but to tell Ron of the incident. It had been all her fault to begin with.

"Should I not have told you?" Draco asked, eyeing her curiously.

Hermione shook her head and took several deep breaths, trying to smile reassuringly. "Of course you should have," she said, trying to weed any fury out of her voice. "It's much better knowing that it wasn't our fault. Ron'll feel better."

Draco, relieved, nodded curtly. "Good." He paused and then, a pained expression on his face, asked, "Are there any details you should give me, since it was an actual lesson?"

Hermione blushed. She could tell he regretted having to ask the question just as much as she did, but that did not make it any easier to answer. "It was strange. At first I was really attracted to Harry-"

"Let's leave out names," Draco interrupted, looking green.

"And then I kept vaguely remembering that he was my best friend and it wasn't right," Hermione continued, ignoring him. She blushed a deep red as some of the truly embarrassing things she had said came back to her in full detail.

"What?" Draco asked immediately, not looking quite sure that he wanted to know. "What did you say to each other?"

"I told him . . . something," Hermione said feebly. "Complimented him and such." There was absolutely no way she was going to tell Draco Malfoy that she had told Harry Potter his scar was "dashing."

Much to her relief Draco looked happy enough with her answer. "Did you-" he grimaced. "Flutter your eyelashes?"

Hermione tried to keep from going redder; she was starting to think she could give Ron a run for his money. "Yes," she muttered under her breath, barely audibly.

For a moment it appeared as if this was too much for him, because she heard a barely muffled laugh that quickly turned into a snort.

Hermione glared fiercely at him. "It's your girlfriend's fault!"

Draco opened his mouth as if to protest and then snapped it shut again. A bland expression suddenly appeared upon his face, and, not looking at her, he quickly scribbled some notes down on parchment.

"Hermione Granger fluttered her eyelashes at Harry Potter in Potions. . . astonished entire House, not to mention the poor, sickened Slytherins and Professor Snape. . . a brief kiss ensued followed by a famous Weasley blow-up . . . what will happen next in the wild lives of these normally chaste Gryffindors?"

Hermione reached across the table and smacked him with a rolled up essay as he laughed and pushed his chair back.

"You sound like Rita Skeeter," she huffed, sitting back down and crossing her arms. "And it's Snape's fault we even had to take the potions."

"Yes, probably for our amusement," Draco mused aloud. Hermione didn't need to ask to know the "our" meant the Slytherins.

Hermione sniffed as haughtily as she could. "It was not funny, Malfoy."

"Not to you, maybe," Draco retorted. He was grinning, but for a moment it looked fixed, as if maybe it wouldn't have been funny.

After she had explained the day's lessons, silence broken only by occasional small talk reigned in the room as the rest of the meeting slid by. When it was time to go Hermione stood and, in an unusually solemn mood, held Aqua out to Draco.

"We're giving them back tomorrow," she said quietly.

Draco's face froze for an instant, and then, with apparent difficulty, he nodded. He slowly and gently took the pixie from her and gave her an awkward finger hug. Aqua, chirping impatiently, wriggled out of his grip and flew up to his face. Hermione giggled as the pixie gave him what looked like a minute kiss on the cheek; in any case, Draco turned bright red and hastily grabbed Aqua again. The pixie chortled and flew back to Hermione when he had let her go.

"See?" said Hermione encouragingly as they left the Room of Requirement. "You are getting romantic action."

Draco grumbled. "Yeah, from a pixie and a Gryffindor first year."

Hermione muffled a laugh at his reproachful look. She did not notice the stealthy figure that had just risen from behind a statue near the room, nor did she hear the quiet footsteps as they were followed.

"Are you going to Gryffindor?" Hermione asked when he didn't leave for the dungeons as he usually did.

Stifling a yawn, he nodded.

"Password?" came the Fat Lady's familiar request as they neared her portrait.

"Dumbledore's Army," Hermione replied, grinning. To her surprise, the Fat Lady's portrait did not swing open immediately as it usually did. She was looking at them with quite an interested expression on her face.

"What are your names, dears?" asked the Fat Lady, still surveying them.

Hermione, sure the bewildered expression on Draco's face matched her own, did not answer. In all her years at Hogwarts she was almost positive the Fat Lady had never taken the time to ask such a question. "What?"

"Your names," repeated the Fat Lady.

"Conrad Johnings-"

"Johnson."

"Yes, that's precisely what I said, and this is Hermione Granger," Draco answered hurriedly. Why did the Fat Lady look sly all of a sudden? Hermione wondered, frowning.

"Are you sure?" inquired the portrait almost craftily. "Because that's not what I heard the other day."

"The other day?" repeated Drake blankly. Hermione was beginning to have that foreboding feeling in her stomach again, although this time she was almost positive she knew what it was about.

"Yes, unless my ears were mistaken and they weren't, I'm quite sure I heard this young lady call you Draco the other day," said the Fat Lady airily. "Of course, I don't know why she would considering he's dead . . ."

Draco went stark white and fell silent. Hermione let out the smallest of gasps as her fears were confirmed.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked finally, her throat dry.

Suddenly the Fat Lady was all business. "Now, don't be silly, dear. I heard you call him 'Draco' and 'Malfoy.' There's only one boy by that name and according to all the other portraits he's dead." She eyed them beadily. "Not to mention a Slytherin."

Hermione's mind raced back as she quickly recounted all their recent meetings. Her heart sank as she remembered their conversation after she'd met Anna; they'd always been extremely careful around other students, but it had never occurred to her that the portraits might be listening, too! She groaned inwardly.

Draco, looking surly, his mouth set in a thin line, was glaring at the Fat Lady. "If you tell anyo-" He cut himself off, and, folding his arms, stared in mute anger at her. The Fat Lady was not perturbed.

"I don't know what makes you think you can threaten me," she sniffed, looking at him imperiously.

"I'm a Slytherin," replied Draco the fierceness in his voice just as intense as hers. "It's what we do."

"So you admit it, then!" exclaimed the Fat Lady.

"Yes, but please don't tell anyone," Hermione said quickly. "It has to be kept secret." A sudden tactic suddenly occurred to her. "It was ever so clever of you to figure it out," she gushed. "We were being so careful." Draco frowned at her feigned admiration.

"Don't think you can buy my silence through flattery," warned the Fat Lady, but there was satisfaction and a certain warmth in her tone. "All right, I won't tell anyone for now, but I do want to hear the whole story-"

"Yes, but at another time," Hermione interrupted. "Dumbledore's Army!"

The Fat Lady had apparently used up all the stalling-time allotted her for she reluctantly swung open.

"And don't you dare tell anyone," Draco muttered as he made to follow Hermione in. The Fat Lady only smirked. Hermione, after quickly scanning the room to make sure Harry and Ron were otherwise occupied, turned back to the entrance just as Draco climbed in. Her heart leapt to her throat, and her jaw dropped.

Ginny, her face white with shock, was standing just outside the entrance, and from the open anger on her face, it was clear she had heard everything.

"What?" Draco asked, still looking mad. He glanced back to see what she was staring at and froze. Without a single word Ginny reached forward, took hold of his sleeve, and yanked him rather unceremoniously back through the portrait. Knowing the redhead was not likely to spare her the same treatment, Hermione nervously followed. At least Ginny hadn't shouted, attracting the attention of the entire common room.

When the portrait had closed, the Fat Lady looked at them interestedly and waited patiently. Hermione would have glared at her for such obtrusiveness if it hadn't been for the more pressing matter at hand- namely Ginny.

"Ginny," Hermione began, but was cut off by a torrent of a tirade.

"Hermione, what's going on?" demanded Ginny furiously, not so much as even giving her a chance to explain. She shook Draco's arm, which she was still holding by the sleeve, angrily and he, being much smaller thanks to the curse, wobbled slightly.

"Let go!" Draco interrupted in turn, and with a swift kick at her feet managed to free himself. Ginny leapt away, cursing under her breath.

"Am I supposed to believe that this is Malfoy?" Ginny cried furiously, forgetting, or perhaps not caring, to lower her voce in her anger.

"You're not supposed to believe anything considering no one's told you anything," Draco answered back. To her mild surprise Hermione saw both of them were tightly gripping in their pockets what was no doubt their wands.

"Ginny," Hermione tried again, but once more her attempt to regain control of the situation and calm her friend failed.

"You've been meeting up with this- this horrid snake for weeks!"

For a moment Draco looked a bit startled, and Hermione could see why; there was a fair amount of difference between a ferret and a snake.

"I couldn't for the life of me understand why you would be talking with this idiot so much," Ginny continued. She was so hysterical there were tears in her eyes. Aqua had even poked her head out of Hermione's bag at the noise. "You showed him the Room of Requirement, you leave mysteriously all the time- you're friends with him! I bet you're the reason he even got onto the Quidditch team! Hermione, what is the matter with you? What are you doing?"

"Tutoring him," Hermione replied simply, as matter-of-factly as she could, so Ginny would find no reason to not believe her.

"And we're not friends," Draco muttered, barely audibly. He was ignored by both girls.

"Tutoring?" Ginny repeated in a hoarse whisper; it was a welcome change from her shrieks, which were not unlike Mrs. Black's at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. "Then why all the secrecy? And why on earth would you be telling people he's Malfoy?" The anger was back in her tone.

"I didn't tell anyone he was Malfoy," Hermione said honestly.

For a moment Ginny looked quite put out. "Oh. Then why did the Fat Lady call him that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I am here, you know," said Draco loudly and irritably. "You could ask me."

Ginny spared him a disgusted glance only to show her derision before turning back to Hermione.

"You should ask him," Hermione said quietly, gesturing at Draco. It was, after all, his secret to tell, and she had promised not to, even though this case was probably an exception.

Ginny, her face patched red with anger, slowly, and with difficulty, turned to face him. "Why is she calling you Malfoy?"

For a few long moments Draco didn't answer. The combined muteness of the girls led to an uncomfortable silence in which Draco and Ginny stared at each other and Hermione watched them both, none of their gazes wavering in the slightest.

Finally Draco opened his mouth to speak. "Because I am Malfoy."

Ginny's mouth involuntarily dropped open in shock, but she quickly regained her composure and glared, once more turning her fury on Hermione.

"Did you not remember that Draco Malfoy is dead?" Ginny asked. She was suppressing her voice to a speaking tone, but her anger was still evident. Her eyes flickered to Draco and there was almost pity in them. "What are you doing to this first year, Hermione?" There was disbelief and sadness in her voice, yet it was so full of certainty that Hermione, too, was shocked into dropping her jaw, suddenly angry herself at the unspoken accusations. What did Ginny, whom she had been friends with for six years, think she had done- brainwash Conrad Johnson into thinking he was a dead Slytherin?

"Ginny, are you asking me if I'm crazy?" Hermione was having a tough time trying to keep her own voice sounding normal.

"I'm not lying," Draco said loudly, regaining Ginny's attention as he realized the implication of her words.

"Just be quiet," Ginny snapped. "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing in a minute."

Draco stared at her incredulously. "Are you implying that you're going to force me into the Hospital Wing?" he asked coldly. "What gives you the impression you can even try to do that, Weasley?"

Ginny blanched openly as she was struck silent by his sudden uncanny resemblance to the Draco Malfoy she knew. Even Hermione was surprised, and she wondered if he had purposely taken on his imperious tones to prove his identity or it was simply habit. Knowing him it was probably the latter.

"Is this what you've been teaching him?" Ginny asked dubiously. She had turned a sickly pale color. "You're coaching him on how to act like Malfoy? That's sick, Hermione."

Hermione was beginning to wonder when Ginny would start believing her. Being spoken to as if she were a madwoman was not appealing.

"Oh for goodness sake, Weasley," Draco snapped, his temper finally getting the better of him. "I know your family are delusional dunces, but do you honestly think Hermione Granger of all people is a nutcase? I know she's a Gryffindor, but she's not that twisted. And the idea of me needing lessons on how to act like myself is simply insulting!"

Ginny looked about ready to faint, and Hermione stepped forward automatically in case she fell. Though she was no mean pleased at her friend's reaction, she was not mad enough to completely disregard her health, and at the moment Ginny was looking more than a bit peaky.

"Ginny, he really is Malfoy," Hermione said in the gentlest tones she could, as the redhead took a small step back.

"What kind of verbal proof can I give you?" Draco asked promptly, and she indignantly noticed he was looking quite nonplussed, if not pleased, at Ginny's reaction.

"Ask him a question," Hermione prompted. "It's how I knew he was telling the truth."

For a minute Hermione was not sure if Ginny had heard, for she was certainly not replying, but after a few moments she took a deep breath and finally spoke.

"Whom did you get kicked off Gryffindor's Quidditch team last year?"

Draco looked confused. "Whom did I-" His expression suddenly cleared, and he looked quite cheerful. "Potter." Out of instinct Ginny shared a disparaging glance with Hermione.

"And?"

The puzzled expression returned, and he narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall. "A redhead?" he said vaguely. His eyes widened in recognition, and he looked almost nervous at Ginny's threatening face. "Those would have been your brothers I take

it . . ."

"Yes," said Ginny through clenched teeth. She thought for a moment, and then her expression cleared; the look on her face was almost triumphant.

"What animal were you transfigured into in your fourth year?" she asked slyly. Hermione muffled a laugh; the outraged look on Draco's face was priceless, and she would bet he would have given almost anything to have been asked a different question. Ginny had begun to look suspicious again by the time he finally answered.

"A ferret," he sad grudgingly, his face bright red, and his voice so low it was barely audible.

"Brilliant," Hermione whispered, and Ginny, grinning, nodded her thanks. It was true that any first year with a morbid fascination with Malfoy's life could have found out the answers to both questions but the second one was nonetheless hilarious. Aqua, looking curiously at Draco's angry, humiliated face, flew to him and, making small chirping sounds, patted his cheek. Hermione stifled a laugh, and Ginny looked on, incredulous and disgruntled.

"Aqua likes you?"

"He watches her a lot," Hermione explained, when Draco didn't answer.

"Why are you a first year?" Ginny asked at last, looking more bewildered now than angry.

Draco, still flushed with embarrassment, would not speak to her, and Hermione assumed the job.

"We'll tell you if we can move somewhere more private."

Ginny willingly agreed and leaving the disappointed Fat Lady, reached a more deserted passageway with unused classrooms on either side.

"Explain," Ginny said abruptly.

And so they did. Hermione did most of the explaining, actually, as Draco was still too mad at Ginny to speak to her, let alone with any pretense of politeness.

When they were done Ginny stared at them blankly. There were still traces of disbelief on her features, but it was more from the very idea of it than from her actually thinking they were lying.

"Hermione, if this is Malfoy," she said in an undertone, glancing at him skeptically. "Why are you helping him?"

"Because he needs it," Hermione replied frankly. "And I'm a Prefect."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Yes, but it's Malfoy."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Hermione said dryly. "That's what I've been trying to convince you of for the last fifteen minutes."

Ginny didn't look convinced or happy at the answer, but at least she had stopped repeating the question, because, for the moment at least, Hermione was unable to give a more detailed answer.

"Do you really expect to go through this whole year without anyone finding out your identity?" she demanded, turning to Malfoy.

"Yes," Draco snapped, glaring.

Ginny returned the glare. "And if I choose to tell someone?"

Draco instinctively pulled out his wand, and Ginny, in response, did the same. Aqua, upon seeing their threatening stances, zoomed with a startled and indignant noise back to Hermione.

"If you are Malfoy, you'll remember it was quite easy for me to hex you last year," said Ginny coolly.

"Weasleys only get one lucky chance, any you've already used yours" Draco returned, his voice just as icy. "Eventually their intrinsic stupidity will overwhelm them."

"Enough," Hermione interrupted as Ginny opened her mouth, whether to insult or curse him, she did not know. "Both of you put your wands down! Now, Draco." Ginny grudgingly put her wand in her pocket, and after a few seconds Draco sulkily lowered his.

"Ginny," began Hermione, trying to retain the little calm she had left. "Please do not tell anyone about this. Draco really wants to keep this a secret-"

"And why should I care what Draco thinks? Since when do you even care what he thinks?" Ginny shot back.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She glanced swiftly at Draco, but his eyes were still fixed angrily on Ginny; she didn't think he had even heard the question.

"I care because he's willing to work with me, and he's doing well," Hermione said, her voice unexpectedly, but thankfully, strong and clear. Draco started and glanced at her. Hermione met his gaze, smiling.

"He'd do just as well if he were in his classes," Ginny retorted. "Why not tell a teacher?"

"Because they can't help me," Draco answered. It was clear Ginny hadn't expected him to answer, and she merely looked at him, irritated.

"I need to figure out how to break this curse on my own."

"Please say you'll keep quiet for now," Hermione implored.

For a few moments Ginny was silent, and it was evident there was an internal struggle going on inside her.

"Fine," she said at last, her voice still cool and her attitude distant. "For a few days at least. But you have to start acting normal, Hermione. You disappear all the time now to go-- tutor him." She spit out the last two words as if they were something disgusting on her tongue. "Harry and Ron don't notice, but I have." She looked grumpy and hurt, an odd combination. "We haven't talked in ages."

Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty as she listened to Ginny. "We will," she promised. "And I'm sorry I've been lying and keeping secrets. Thank you for not telling." She glanced automatically at Draco, waiting for him to say the same, but he simply glared. It didn't look as if Ginny was expecting much from a Malfoy, but Hermione kicked him anyway.

"Thank you," he said grudgingly.

At last Ginny gave a small smile, though, of course, she was still ignoring Draco. "Good." Now she glanced at him, and the frown reappeared. "I don't understand why you're . . ." She gave Hermione a scrutinizing glance and left the sentence hanging. "I'm going back to Gryffindor, now." Hermione nodded and followed her, as she slowly walked back the way they had came. Draco turned to part at the stairs.

"I thought you were tired," said Hermione, surprised.

He shook his head, his face an empty mask. "Not anymore." Without another word he disappeared down the staircase. Hermione stared after him, vaguely annoyed.

"Hermione," said Ginny quietly as they neared the Fat Lady, who glanced at them reproachfully and sniffed. "Are you friends with Malfoy, now?" She sounded almost cautious, as if the question were unthinkable yet it had to be asked anyway.

Hermione shook her head thoughtfully, her brown curls bouncing slightly. "No. I don't think so. He is a prat," she admitted. "And as far as I know he still hates muggleborns, not to mention Harry and Ron . . ."

"But you're not . . . you don't hate each other?"

Again she shook her head, without having to think this time. "No. He's changed," she said earnestly as they simultaneously waved to Harry and Ron from the foot of the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories. "He's polite, and he is trying very hard. I'll show you some of his essays later if you'd like proof. Aqua adores him," she added, laughing. The pixie let out a small squeak, as if in agreement.

"All right," said Ginny, still sounding doubtful. She sighed, sitting on her bed as Hermione sat on another fifth year student's. "Well, I'm glad I know the truth. I think."

* * *

Harry had thought that when the day they got to give Sprink back to Hagrid came, Ron would be celebrating as if they had won a Quidditch game. Since he had been the one to volunteer them, Harry wasn't sure he would've been quite so exuberant, but now that the time came, neither was Ron. He looked almost melancholy, staring with a nostalgic expression at Sprink, as if he were already imagining life without him.

"You're going to miss him, aren't you," said Hermione sympathetically. She had gotten up early that morning to draw with Aqua before classes and had even given her a small lump of sugar at breakfast. She was also behaving much differently than Harry had thought; Hermione was quite calm and collected, at last outwardly.

"Not really," Ron said, sounding completely honest. "I've gotten used to him, by now, so I won't be jumping for joy- it's more the idea of not having anyone to yell at," he added quickly.

Sprink gave what sounded like a little sigh, and Harry had to squint at him, astonished; the pixie had just rolled his eyes.

"So, did you have a good time with the pixies?" boomed Hagrid, clapping his hands together as he emerged from his hut to join the assembled students. There were a few mumbled "yes'", most of them resentful. Many of students had grown quite accustomed and fond of their pixies, to the point where Hermione's original fascination with them had been moderate. Lavender and Parvati had gone as far as ordering their pixie, a quiet, petite female, a handmade dress from a specialty store in Hogsmeade (the pixie was still wearing it).

"Well, I've got good news for the ones o' you tha' don't want to give up yer pixies," said Hagrid, beaming broadly at them. Hermione instantly perked up.

"Me friend said he'll be glad ter lend 'em to us again come spring," announced Hagrid proudly. "April or early May mebbe!"

There were a few excited whispers from the students, and Lavender asked loudly,

"Can we have the same ones?"

Hagrid nodded, and she instantly started murmuring with Parvait. Harry caught snatches of "robes" and "nightdress" before deciding to stop listening.

"If you'll jus' hand in the journals you kept on 'em, and we'll put 'em in their cage!"

The Slytherin boys were the first to hurriedly follow Hagrid's instruction (a first for them, no doubt), and then the Gryffindor boys.

"Bye, Sprink," Harry said, not knowing what else to say to a pixie, but knowing that he had to say something. The pixie zoomed up and gave him a rather condescending pat on the cheek.

"Don't cause too much trouble," Ron added, as he carried him to the cage. The pixie made a little indignant noise as if to ask how he could be expected not to cause trouble; and then, to Ron's great consternation and hiss friends' amusement, Sprink gently pulled his ear before flying straight at Hagrid's beard. Ron, bright red, muttered something about 'incorrigible pixies' while Harry and Hermione smothered chuckles. He didn't look too mad, though.

Hermione was the last to give her pixie in, and she gave Aqua a tiny kiss on the top of her head. Aqua made a small, sad sound, and Hermione, sending Harry and Ron an almost furtive look, whispered something they couldn't hear properly. He was probably imagining, but Harry could've sworn he heard "he'll miss you, too." Then Aqua had tugged on one of Hermione's curls one last time before flying to the cage door. She looked almost wilted, her little wings fluttering feebly, and Hermione was almost tearful.

"There now," said Hagrid, seemingly not to have noticed the pixie in his beard. "Tha's all right, girls. Don't cry." He looked a bit nervous at the sniffs issuing from Lavender, Parvati, and positively alarmed at Hermione.

They handed in their journals, which weren't much journals at all; Harry and Ron, who had taken turns scribbling down a few sentences whenever they had remembered, had simply tied their parchments into a sheaf. It appeared the same for most of the other students, except, of course, for Hermione's. She had worked as diligently on it as her other homework, and had even created a simple binding with gold thread and beautiful calligraphy proclaiming "Aqua: A Pixie's Journal (As Narrated by Hermione Granger)" on the cover.

Hagrid shooed Aqua into the cage, finally noticed Sprink, and had stuffed him rather unceremoniously in. The cage was now rattling slightly as it had when they first seen it and had eyed it with apprehension. Now there were a few looks of longing directed at it. They could still hear Sprink's squawks from inside.

As a treat to make up for the obvious loss of the pixies, Hagrid let them make a small fire using fire salamanders and then gave them all big fluffy marshmallows. To prevent anyone from trying to open the cage (Pansy Parkinson) or trying to attract the pixies' attention (Lavender and Parvati) Hagrid carried it inside to his hut.

Hermione glanced through a window regretfully. "Spring's a long time away."