Author's Note: Hey all! Scary thought, but as of this chapter, the story is half over!! There's plenty more action to come, though. A huuuuuge thank you to all of you readers and reviewers - you've made this story a complete success and are really inspirational/motivating. I appreciate all the encouragement, criticism, and praise that you all have been so kind to give. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Restoration

Hermione stayed in the alley only for a little while. The cold bit her cheeks and snow fell from the sky in sharp little specks, hurried along by a sudden swift wind. She decided to head back to the castle, thinking about her strange meeting with Channing the entire way. She walked to her dorm room in a daze, answered the portrait's riddle ("No sooner spoken than broken. What am I?" "Silence."), and was about to head up to her room when she heard her name called imperiously from the couch.

"Granger!"

She stopped in her tracks. "What is it, Malfoy?" she asked wearily.

"Come here."

Because she simply did not feel like arguing, Hermione consented. "Feeling any better?" she asked, unwinding her long Gryffindor scarf.

"What do you think?" he answered back waspishly. Hermione then looked at him and almost screamed in frustration. He was still covered in bruises.

"Why wasn't this taken care of? Didn't the House Elves bring up salve? As much as I hate to do it, perhaps I should report them to McGonagall…House Elves not doing their jobs…makes no sense at all. This is just rid-"

"Granger! Stop ranting. I sent the House Elves away. There was no way I'm going to let their grimy little hands touch my skin."

She looked at him, unbelieving. "You didn't let them apply the salve? Malfoy, why do you have to be so difficult?" Hermione complained, exasperated at his behavior. She looked around the room and noticed a tray of untouched food on the table. "What is this still doing here?"

"I'm not about to let them feed me. That's barbaric." Draco mock shuddered in disgust.

"So you're unhealed and unfed?"

"And in a lot of pain. I fell over twice when I got up to go to the bathroom."

Hermione's face soured in exasperation. "I leave you alone for one day…" she muttered, dropping her bags and taking off her coat. She could feel Draco watching her every move…it was unnerving

"So, which would you like first, to be healed or to be fed?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't be thick. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now pick one, or I'll choose."

"Food," he said without hesitation.

"Alright then." She clapped sharply and a house elf appeared with a bowl of hearty stew, a tall glass of water, and a few slices of bread. Hermione looked appraisingly at the meal and, finding it satisfactory, thanked the elf. It disappeared with a toothy grin, a bow, and a crack. She helped Draco into a sitting position, being as gentle as possible, and set the tray upon his lap.

"Can you use your arms?" she asked him, embarrassed both for herself and for him.

"Yes," he said shortly. With what appeared to be a great amount of effort, Draco hefted his hand onto the tray and fumbled with the silverware. He regained control soon though and was soon slurping away at the soup. While he ate, Hermione hung up her coat and put away her bags. When she returned, only crumbs remained. With a flick of her wand, the mess vanished. She then reached for the healing salve on the table.

XOX

'Here comes the fun…' Draco thought sarcastically. It was embarrassing enough almost having to be fed by Hermione, but now…Draco was not looking forward to what he knew was unavoidable. The pungent smell of fish pervaded the air as Hermione unscrewed the cap. Draco gagged at the stench.

"They could at least make it smell a bit better," Hermione said, turning slightly green at the odor.

She scooped a glob of the slimy goo onto her fingers and looked at Draco awkwardly. Hermione lifted up one of his arms to rest on her knee. Even from their limited contact, the heat from her leg was unbelievable. His whole arm tingled with the conflicting warmth of her body and frigidity of the salve. She rubbed it smoothly into his skin, the pain and the bruises disappearing almost immediately.

She finished his arms and sat back. "Looks a lot better," she remarked. Draco nodded and turned his arms over.

'There's hardly any pain at all,' Draco thought while Hermione attended his other arm. Then, he saw her take a smaller glob of the foul-smelling salve and approach his face.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, halting Hermione's progress with an outstretched arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she retorted. "Now shut your mouth."

"I don't think so, Granger," he said, batting her arm away once more. "I can do the rest myself."

She glared at him and scraped the goo from her fingers back into the jar. "Fine, do it yourself then."

"Get me a mirror."

If looks could kill, Draco would have died twice over.

"Get your own bloody mirror," she spat.

Draco watched her march angrily to her room and shook his head. "Women."

With some difficulty, he smeared the salve over the rest of his injuries and chanced getting up. He smiled as he stood and walked without pain.

'This stuff is brilliant,' he thought, stashing the balm in a cupboard. 'No doubt I'll need it again soon…'

XOX

Draco spent the week invisible. He took all of his meals in the common room and skirted through the secret passageways whenever possible. He kept his head down during classes, attempting to ignore the stares and jeers constantly being thrown his way. He was unsure if word had gotten out about the incident on the Quidditch pitch or if people were still reeling over his chase with Ron.

Whatever the case, it was not boding well for Draco. The students were becoming bolder in the actions against him. They now taunted him openly, willing to give up their House points and serve detention time just so they would be able to say they insulted the great Draco Malfoy without being cursed into oblivion. People did not fear him like they once did.

'Save for one,' he thought. Hermione's fear was interesting, though: it was a hybrid. She knew about his arrogance and his drive – when riled, he was obviously dangerous. But the anomalous scene on the couch showed a different side of him, one that he had not meant to expose to her so quickly, if at all. 'It's the inconsistency that scares her,' he thought, walking back through the halls from another Quidditch practice. He was careful to keep his eyes open, but knew he was free from harm for the evening.

He answered Godric's tricky riddle ("I know a word of letters three. Add two more and fewer there will be. What is the word?" "Few.") and stepped through the portrait hole, instinctively looking for Hermione. They had been on surprisingly friendly terms, which certainly shocked both parties. The events of that weekend undoubtedly lingered in her mind, as they did in Draco's, but she did not mention them, for which Draco was immeasurably grateful. They held short but civil conversations, usually discussing Transfigurations, which was easily their most difficult class.

'And we were supposed to practice tonight,' he thought, looking around the common room once more. 'So where the devil is she?'

"Granger?" he said, dropping his bag. "Where are you?"

"Malfoy! I'm so glad you're back," she said with just a hint of urgency in her voice.

He cocked his head. "Glad I'm back?" he said in a puzzled undertone. Those were three words he thought Hermione would never say. "Where are you?"

"I'm on the other side of the couch," she said testily. "Now will you please get over here?"

"Don't be so demanding," he mocked, but walked over anyways. What he saw shocked him. Hermione was lying on the floor, except it was not Hermione.

'Well, not all of her, at least.'

Hermione was half red fox. Her head was perfectly normal, as was her torso. But her lower half was decidedly fox-like and she was covered in rust-colored fur. Her wand was lying about a yard away from her on a high end table. By the looks of it, she had been trying to recover it for quite some time.

"Nice tail," he smirked.

She glared up at him; the tail flicked in annoyance. "Would you mind helping me out here, Malfoy?"

He stared at her a moment longer, trying to fully convince himself of the oddity before his eyes. He shook his head in disbelief and thought, 'Abeo hominis'.

Hermione morphed once more into her fully human self and picked herself up from the floor. "Thanks for that," she said, straightening her shirt.

"I thought we agreed to practice becoming Animagi together, Granger," he said in a rebuking tone.

"I got impatient. You were taking much too long at Quidditch practice."

For the first time in his life, Draco found himself scolding Hermione. "We were assigned partners for a reason. You heard McGonagall say that becoming Animagi was difficult, right? And that we shouldn't practice alone?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "I just…I thought I could do it." Her face flushed with damaged pride.

"Well, don't try it again," finished Draco with a pointed look.

Awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Draco said, "That was pretty impressive, though. How many times did it take you to get there?"

"About twenty," Hermione answered brightly. "I didn't get anything but fur until fifteen, when I got a tail. That's the farthest I've gotten."

'Impressive,' he thought. 'She truly is as clever as they think.' He smiled cockily.

"I bet I can get a tail before fifteen," he challenged with a grin.

Hermione laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

"Give me a minute to settle in, then I'll prove it."

Upstairs, he changed quickly into a comfortable pair of sweats and a t-shirt. When he came back downstairs, he saw that Hermione had cleared a spot in front of the fireplace, moving the table and couches away so they would have enough room to practice.

"Alright then," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She struck an expectant pose and said, "You think you can do better? Show me."

"I will, Granger. And you're going to be amazed."

Draco shut his eyes and concentrated hard on the grey wolf. He thought of it's fur, it's paws, it's ears, it's very basic anatomy, trying to imagine himself with those very characteristics. Once he got a good grasp on his animal, he thought the spell: abeo lupus.

He did not feel any different. He cracked open an eye to see Hermione struggling to maintain a straight face.

"Anything?" he asked her hopefully.

"Nope," she giggled. "But you should have seen your expression," she joked with a teasing smile.

"Seriously?" he said, opening his eyes fully now and looking down at himself.

"Not a thing. But don't worry, you still have fourteen tries left to get a tail," she joked. Draco smiled at her jibe.

And so started their practice. Draco practiced until he achieved a tail, which he did at his fifteenth try. A few tries after that, and he was as far as Hermione had been. His body half wolf, but still not fully there.

They took turns after that, laughing good-naturedly at each other when their transformations went horribly wrong. After two short hours of practice, Hermione lowered her wand. The fun had long-since passed, leading to frustration for both. She flopped down onto the couch, Draco landing next to her.

"What are we missing?" Hermione groaned. "We know our animals inside and out. We know the spells. We're concentrating! But we're still only achieving half transformations! What else is there?"

Draco ran his fingers through his platinum hair and sighed. "No idea," he said, "but it's really starting to get to me. I'm worn out." Draco yawned widely, triggering the same response in Hermione. "I should probably get to bed."

"Yeah, you have a game tomorrow."

He hoisted himself off the couch and mounted the stairs, Hermione following suit. They split off to their respective rooms and Draco was just about to shut the door when he stopped.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you coming," he repeated, "to my game?" He struggled to keep the blood from rushing to his face. He saw her waiver slightly; she was going to say no. "It's against Gryffindor," he blurted.

"Is it?" she asked, truly surprised. She furrowed her brow slightly, most likely thinking the same thing Draco was: why did Ron not tell her?

"Sure, I'll come," she said after a short silence.

Draco did not trust himself to speak, nodding instead. Without bidding her goodnight, he shut his door.

'It'll be nice to know that someone in the stands doesn't hate me. Well, not completely, anyways.' He smiled at the thought of his imminent victory over Gryffindor and slept deeply.