Connected

It was a stiflingly hot day, the sort of day when the students gave up work and the teachers gave up teaching – who could concentrate in such weather? All the windows were open, waiting for the slightest gasp of air, and most of the students had collapsed by the Great Lake, fanning themselves with textbooks.

It was early September, when autumn should have been wrapping its cold tendrils around them, but there was nothing cold about that Saturday afternoon. The school year had just begun, and the first years were still exploring the castle with wide eyes and open mouths. The House point hourglasses were still relatively empty, and people were actually completing homework on time, although this would undoubtedly deteriorate as the year progressed.

The Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws were lying on the drying grass besides the lake, talking half-heartedly and trying various cooling spells. Some braver Gryffindor seventh-years had jumped into the lake, and were splashing about in the cool water. No one else joined them though, either because of the effort or because of the thought of the Giant Squid lurking beneath the surface.

The Slytherins had stayed in the dungeons, which remained cool throughout the year – as it was beneath the lake itself. No one minded; a day without the Slytherins was a good day as far as they could see – and there was not a green tie in sight.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were lounging beneath a tree, savouring the shade cast by the overhead branches. Hermione and Ron were talking very quickly, their heads close together; and every few seconds Hermione would smile in an embarrassed sort of way. It was no secret that Ron and Hermione had become an item recently; and they were clearly besotted with each other. Harry wasn't sure where this put him. He was happy that they were happy, but he did feel rather lonely sometimes.

Ginny was trying her best to catch Harry's attention. She was posing, flicking her hair every so often, and watching Harry through lowered lids. He thought it was pretty nauseating, having gone off Ginny a lot. Yeah, he used to like her – but she was just so different now. She was completely superficial.

It was very quiet, just the buzz of tired conversation filling the air. Harry closed his eyes and lied back, finally glad to have some peace, until…

"He did WHAT?" shouted Ron suddenly, causing a few sleepy birds in the tree above them to fly away in panic. "That dirty scumbag did WHAT?"

Ron had sat up quickly, face concentrated in an expression of anger, while Hermione looked as if she regretted something.

"Calm down, Ron!" she said pleadingly. "He's done it a million times before, I really don't care." She put a hand on Ron's arm.

"That's not the point, 'Mione…" said Ron. "That git needs to be taught a lesson. And I'm going to be the one to give it to him."

Hermione shook her head resignedly, looking even more regretful.

"What on earth is the matter?" yawned Ginny, stretching so that her fingertips brushed against Harry's cheek. Harry shuddered involuntarily and sat up once again, focusing his attention on his seething best friend.

"That Slytherin git called Hermione a dirty little Mudblood again, and then sent a Stinging Hex at her…" snarled Ron. "When is he going to learn his lesson? The coward always chooses the moments when we're not there as well…"

"I'm perfectly able to look after myself Ronald, it's just he catches me off guard…"

"I'm going to sort him out," decided Ron, folding his arms.

"Fantastic! Now that's all settled, let's just stop talking now?" whined Ginny, lying back down in the grass again.

"How are we going to get him back?" asked Harry sleepily, rubbing his eyes. This confounded heat was making him lethargic now. He flapped at a fly which was buzzing around him. Roll on winter…

"I'll sort it out Harry. It's my girlfriend," replied Ron, putting his arm around Hermione. Despite her regretful look, Harry thought he saw a hint of gratitude in Hermione's expression.

"If you're sure," he murmured, ripping out blades of grass around him. "I would never miss an opportunity to get even with Malfoy…"

"I'll send you a picture of his face," replied Ron, kissing Hermione on the cheek gently.

"Anyway, I have to go now," said Harry, standing up. "Snape's detention. Bloody git, he could never prove it was me who tipped up Malfoy's cauldron."

"It was you though, wasn't it?" asked Hermione, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare.

"Like I said," said Harry, smiling. "He could never prove it was me. Bye."

Ron and Hermione waved, before proceeding to collapse on the grass and carry on with their conversation. Ginny looked disappointed at him going, and almost considered walking with him – but Harry's face when she reached for his hand made her stop in her tracks.

Harry made his way to the castle, skirting around the bodies of fellow students lying on the grass.

It was almost dinner time at Hogwarts, and the students were slowly making their way from their patches on the grass to the Great Hall, arriving in slow-moving crowds – yawning, with shirts hanging out.

The Slytherins would arrive any moment, strutting through the Entrance Hall as if they owned the place, turning up their noses at the other students. However, amidst the haziness and the lethargy, two students were very wide awake and ready to take their plan into action.

Harry was still in his detention, so Ron and Hermione were left alone – and Ron was about to put his plan into action. He thought it was a genius plan, even when Hermione had pointed out the numerous flaws and possible risks.

"What risks are there? I cast this spell on Malfoy…"

"This illegal spell, Ron"

"Anyway, this spell – and he immediately becomes well, magnetised to the first person who walks past him, or gets close enough to him?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes."

"Brilliant! I hope it's someone like Millicent Bulstrode. That will teach him a lesson."

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't looking forward to this; a little voice in the back of her brain was shouting at her, telling her that this would just surely end in disaster.

"Granger", said a voice from behind her.

It was early evening, and Hermione was just making her way back from the library, clutching a pile of books she had picked up for a bit of light reading. The only dim light was coming from the flickering candles lighting the wall – this eerie atmosphere, and the voice behind her almost made her drop the books.

She turned around irritably, and was even more irritated when she realised it was just Malfoy. He was smirking as per usual, and he too was clutching some books.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snapped, walking away from him.

"Nothing from you", he had sneered. "You filthy little Mudblood."

Even though she had heard him say those three cutting words countless times, they still hurt her whenever he said them.

"Oh, just go away you evil little cockroach…" she had snapped.

Determined not to show any weakness, she marched on, walking more quickly than before – eager to get away from the annoying pest. That was when she had felt a sharp burning pain on her hand, she had gasped, stumbled and then dropped all the books on the floor.

Examining her hand, she recognised the marks of a Stinging Hex immediately. Pulling out her own wand furiously, she span around – determined to blast him into oblivion. But all that was there in the corridor was the flickering candle light. Malfoy had slipped away, into the darkness.

Trying to ignore the angry tears of frustration which had started to fill her eyes, Hermione fell to her knees on the stone cold floor and started to pick up the battered books – vowing that one day, she would have her revenge on that Slytherin pest.

So why not now?

"Fine," said Hermione. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just tell me when ferret-boy is coming this way," replied Ron. "Then I'll cast this spell. You've got to love Fred and George sometimes you know, they gave me this one."

Biting back a number of comments about how Fred and George's experimental spells often didn't have very good consequences, Hermione took her position behind a statue of some long-dead wizard.

Ron pulled out the worn piece of paper he had jotted down the spell he needed on. On the yellowing piece of parchment was just one word, obviously a spell - Attraho. He knew that Fred and George sometimes made mistakes with their spells, but in any case – this was only Malfoy. No one would know he had cast the spell, after all.

He pulled out his wand, and took up his position by the entrance to the dungeons.

Then he saw Hermione waving extravagantly from behind the statue; mouthing "He's coming!" repetitively. Ron shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes. Subtlety was never really a skill Hermione had mastered.

Nevertheless, Ron pulled out his wand and got ready to cast the spell. He heard footsteps approaching…closer, closer, closer… he saw the briefest flash of whitest blonde hair, and without thinking, he acted almost on instinct and whispered "Attraho!"

There was a sort of hissing whisper, the briefest hint of blue light which was heading towards the unsuspecting Slytherin, and then – that was it. Malfoy looked slightly disconcerted for a second, as if he had been punched in the stomach – but he quickly shook himself and carried on walking towards the Entrance Hall, pushing back his hair from his eyes as he did so.

Ron watched gleefully as Draco Malfoy made his way across the stone slabs, eagerly awaiting a fellow Slytherin to appear any moment from now. Maybe it would be Crabbe…or even Goyle…Malfoy would surely go insane being magnetised to those two.

Then, clattering footsteps could be heard from the dungeons, someone was approaching rapidly – sprinting at the sound of it. Ron rubbed his hands together in glee. But he could never have guessed who the person running out of the dungeons would be.

He saw a glimpse of messy black hair, glasses – and a gold-and-red tie, Hermione's shocked face from behind the statue – Ron tried to call out to warn his best friend, but it was too late – Harry had ran past Draco Malfoy – ignoring a random insult thrown at him by the Slytherin as he did so.

Ron hid his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch.

Both the teenage boys stopped dead in their tracks – Malfoy looking paler than normal, Harry looking as though he had just been slapped in the face. What happened next could have been comical if it hadn't been so completely serious. Almost as if they had been shoved by invisible hands, the two teenagers fell backwards – so that they fell into each other.

"Ugh, Potter! Get off me!" spat Malfoy, struggling to stand up.

"Get away from me, Malfoy!" snapped Harry, attempting to walk into the Great Hall.

But the two teenagers, the tall Slytherin and Gryffindor, couldn't pull themselves apart from each other, almost as if they had been stuck together with glue.

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