“GRYFFINDOR!” roared the table in red and gold.

“SLYTHERIN!” bellowed the opposing table from across the hall.

And the two proceeded to shower each other with any food that was in easy reach, which coincidentally most often was mashed potatoes and gravy. Dinner had become a battle, and not for the first time that week.

Draco awoke the same morning...and got a faceful of coarse sand. Sputtering indignantly and trying to scrub his eyes clean, he compiled a mental list of revenge strategies. Hadn't the dimwitted imbeciles learned by now that one does NOT prank a Malfoy??

Something in them changes for the better...
...our mystery unravels a bit more...
...and then Draco and Hermione are right back where they started.

Hermione, her cheeks flaming, shoved past him and whispered, “Oh, bugger. Now see what you’ve done,” and hurried out of the Entrance Hall.

          He unrolled the parchment out on his desk, and all four teachers gathered in close to see. They read the words inscribed at the top, and looked to Dumbledore for explanation with varying degrees of patience.
 
          “The Artful Fabrication of Draco and Hermione?” Flitwick asked. “What is that, a book you’re writing?”