Get ready for some awkward conversations, some sarcastic Draco (oh how I love him), and above all, some high-speed car chasing, but instead of using cars, with wizards! Exciting, isn't it? I'm excited, you might be excited. Exciting, indeed.


As sometimes happens- unfortunately- Potter and I are walking through the same hallway at the same time. On this particular occasion, we happen to be the only ones doing so, but that doesn't make me worried automatically. Compared to some people, Potter's simply avoidance of me is positively tame. However, when Potter looks around nervously, evidently searching for people, I'm smart enough to get suspicious, and, only at that point, more than a little bit worried. It's obvious that he's planning something, I just don't know what.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

He stops looking, satisfied that we're alone, and turns to me, opening his mouth. I tense up automatically, and start to walk faster.

"Can I pet you?"

I come to a halt as the question registers, and slowly turn back around to face Potter. He looks almost as confused as I feel, and he's the one who asked the question. A couple of seconds pass in awkward silence.

"What?" I have to ask, once the confusion goes from painful to positively unbearable.

"Ah, I'm sorry! What I meant is… Well, I was wondering if I could pet you?"

I find myself worrying for Potter's intelligence. Again a couple of seconds pass as we look at each other like we're both deer while simultaneously being headlights.

"You said that before." Does he not realize this? I feel an obligation to tell him. "My question stands. What?"

I'm almost impressed when Potter blushes more than he already is, which was quite a bit, and is now somehow even more.

"Oh. You're right. I imagine now is probably the time to… explain?"

I look at him like this is obvious, and like he should know it easily. Because it is, and he should.

He must take my look as a "yes" because he continues on with, "Well, uh, you know how you're an Animagus? And you turn into a cat?"

"No. No, I don't. I fear you're wrong, and you should probably leave me alone." Watch him believe me. I wouldn't be surprised.

"Oh yes, let's scare the boy with sarcasm. He and you have both lived through a war, but sarcasm will really be the one thing that gets him," I'm surprised by his response, considering that it's not completely dumbfounded, and when I look over at him, he seems to be surprised as well. But it looks more, for him, like he's surprised he let it out, rather than that he mustered such a response in the first place. I'm intrigued, and start to wonder if maybe there's more to Potter than I previously assumed. After one final furrow of his eyebrows, Potter continues. "Okay. Anyways. I've always had trouble with cats, because they'll never let me pet them. It's really frustrating. They looks so soft, and fluffy- until they're trying to bite or scratch away my existence, that is, at which point they're noticeably less soft and fluffy. So I've always, always wondered what it would be like to pet a cat. And I was thinking, a couple of days ago, about how even for other people who pet cats, you can't always pet them like you want, because they might not want to do the same thing and are incapable of oral communication. So I got to thinking about how maybe… an Animagus could solve my problem, by letting me pet them."

I can, obviously, already tell where this is going, considering that he's not being at all subtle about it, and I don't like it. In fact, I'm very worried. He can't really be going to ask what I think he is. The fact that he's already technically asked the question, before he'd explained at all, does nothing to quell my disbelief. It's impossible, isn't it?

"So I thought about-"

"No." I say this just in case, because even in my state of disbelief, I have the sense to know that it is a bad idea to let him ask me that question.

He takes a breath, and then pauses. "What?"

"My answer is no."

"But you don't even kno-"

"Even so, my answer is no. It will be no whatever you ask, if I have any intelligence at all."

I walk away for a couple of paces before momentarily turning towards him again.

"Which I do."

I turn back around and continue all the way out of the hallway, trying not to let myself collapse in shock or something from the whole encounter, before he can say anything else.


I go back to my private room soon after the strange meeting. Like many eighth year rooms, my room was converted to a place for living in after the war. Also like many of the eighth year rooms, it's not the most luxurious, and especially not the biggest, but I know that it's all I'm going to get, and not too much less than other people are getting, so I deal with it. Also, I don't care about the quality of most of the students at Hogwarts' rooms, but if I had to choose between having a nice room for myself, or some first years having it instead, they would get it without a doubt.

I have to be in my room for at least two hours before I go to sleep, because I've developed a long bedtime routine. This might sound conceited, and I'm sure that would've been true some years ago, but that's no longer the case.

I start with taking the glamour off of my Mark. I hide it every day more for me than for anyone else because, despite what some may think, I didn't want to get it when I got it, and I especially don't want it now. Hopefully I'll get to some semblance of acceptance at some point, but that day is still far off in the future.

Next, I check myself for physical wounds. These are relatively plentifully given throughout the day, although I manage to heal a good amount of them during lunch (which I no longer go to because that really wouldn't be smart for me- I get targeted enough when I'm trying to stay out of everyone's way), but they're easy enough to heal that even with the number of injuries I get in a day, they aren't much of a problem. They just add some time to my process.

The magical wounds are harder to fix. There are less of them, most definitely, but there are some people at Hogwarts who are simultaneously extremely mean and also rather good with offensive magic. The ones that I get take up most of my allotted two hours, because of the energy and time that they take to heal, but I also manage to heal those almost all of the time, and when I don't, I find out a way to get them healed outside of my own healing capabilities.

The psychological attacks on me are the real problem. Except I can't heal those, so I don't. They just sit in my head, every hour of every day, and weigh me down just a little bit more each day. Over time, that little bit starts to matter.

I fall asleep with that funny thought in my mind. Bitter, but funny nonetheless.

It kind of sucks for me that the one problem that matters, the one I need to heal, is the only one I can do nothing about.


Granger approaches me about a week after Potter did- corners me while I'm studying. I try to ignore her, but it doesn't exactly work.

"Draco," she starts. I bristle at her unwarranted use of my first name, but she plows through my reaction, "I know that you don't want to do this, but Harry really wants to pet a cat. Besides that, it would probably be good to show inter house unity. You know, prove that things that happened in the war, as far as students are concerned, were not under their control."

I'm turning into some kind of group project, and I really don't like it. It's so much attention!

...Which, okay, is the best part, because I kind of love attention. I can hear Pansy say, Kind of? in my head. She's right, too.

But still, I'm turning into some kind of group project and I overall really don't like it, whatever redeeming qualities it may possess.

"You think that I care about any of that?" I start, because Granger's comment and what she assumed about me did make me genuinely angry. "I've lost all respect towards me from other people, as well as all of my inheritance, and I'm only here for eighth year because I need the qualifications to get a job at all, much less one I can live on. Now, I have to work to get a job! Sure, it was spoiled, but I didn't grow up expecting to have to do that! And I have to work harder than anyone else too, because now I'm the 'dirty Death Eater' who will ruin anything I come into contact with apparently! So yeah, I really care!" I'm breathing heavily by the end of my painfully truthful rant, and I realize that I just shared my innermost fears with someone who I hate, and who will most likely proceed to spread them across the school.

"But…" she seems surprised and kind of scared, but I can tell that she still doesn't plan to back down under any circumstances, "Harry really, really wants to pet a cat. It's kind of a thing. Could you please do just this one good thing for him, after every other bad thing you've done to him?"

How has Granger gone from something so serious on my part to something so benign on her part, but with such a serious tone? I am deeply confused by the apparent amount of significance being placed on Potter petting a cat by everyone I've talked to. Why does it even matter? I don't even know where to start with that, so I just say screw it and ask her.

"Why is it so important that Potter pets a cat?" I feel ridiculous just saying it out loud. "It can't be that important, can it? Plus," I realize that this is even more stupid, but considering the context, it can't really be any worse than what those around me are suggesting, "why doesn't he just pet- oh McGonagall or something? At least they're on speaking terms with each other, and their occasional speaking doesn't almost always inevitably lead to a fight! Why does it have to be me? I'm sure that somewhere in Potter's marginal fanbase, there's another Animagus cat somewhere, who would be more than willing- practically begging- for him to pet them!"

Granger is taken aback, it seems. I can't exactly tell why.

"You're suggesting that Harry feel up some stranger? Doesn't that sound, oh, a tad like it's a stupid idea, and maybe a little bit more than a tad creepy to you?"

"Of course it does! But I'd much prefer that than him feeling me up!"

At this point, we've gotten so loud that Madam Pince not-so-kindly tells us to leave, with no small amount of fist-shaking. We happily oblige, due to the terror she inspires in us. Truly inspiring.

I try to get out of continuing our conversation (because do we really need to keep on discussing this ridiculous topic?) and bid Granger farewell.

"Goodbye. I hope you never speak to me again, and at least let it be about Arithmancy or Potions or something if you really can't stay away."

She looks at me like I'm crazy, which I'm used to at this point, but doesn't do anything when I turn around and walk away. Then, when I'm so close to being free that I can smell freedom, I hear a "Wait!" which I do not heed in any way. Instead, I take off in a sprint towards the glorious-smelling freedom, and speed up as I hear Granger catching up to me from behind. I've never been the fastest runner, because I'm far to noble and delicate to ever go all out, but who knew Granger could run this fast, really?

Then I remember that one time when she slapped me in the face, and cease being surprised.

"No!" I call back to her, while still running as fast as my pride will allow me. The sweat, oh the sweat! But I have to keep going- "You won't take me alive, you speedy monster!"

"Draco, quit being ridiculous!" I can hear how fast she's running in her voice. It scares me. Also, she sounds like Pansy. Doubly scary.

"Granger, please, call me Malfoy! And also, no, I refuse to cease my ridiculousness!"

"Draco, I swear- Accio Draco!"

What. She shouldn't be able to do that.

As I speed towards her and her eyes follow me, she says in wonder to herself, "Wow. It really worked. Damn, I am good." I can't help but agree. When I've been put firmly on the floor in front of her, standing up, she continues. "Okay, Draco," I frown instinctively, "first, please never do that again. I'm tired."

"So there is a weakness!"

"Shut up. Second, I just wanted to tell you to at least think about it. This really matters a lot to Harry."

I scoff.

Sure it does.