"Wizards are special? Comparing Muggles to chimps?" Hermione fumed none-too-quietly as they left the classroom. "Is she certain she didn't mean to report to Durmstrang at start of term?"

"It bothered me, too," Harry admitted more softly. "But aren't you even a bit curious about all the rest? I mean, what did you think the first time you did accidental magic? I thought I was losing my mind. But it had been effortless. In fact, I think it would have been harder to stop it. When did we stop...being able to...Hermione?" he trailed off, noticing the discomfort in her expression. She bit her lip and hugged her books to her.

"Wait. Hermione, you have done accidental magic before, haven't you?"

"Not everyone has, you know," she said defensively. "There are plenty of Muggle-borns who had no idea magic existed until they got their letters." She meant to look matter-of-fact, but it came across as pouty.

So that was it. Maybe Hermione's anger, or at least part of it, was misplaced. She worked so hard to prove she was just as much a Witch as the next student, despite being Muggle-born. Perhaps she felt frustrated at having missed out on such a common experience. Having been raised by Muggles himself, Harry had shared her insecurities once.

But if anyone would have skipped the magical hiccups, Harry believed it would have been Hermione. She was the most structured person Harry knew, no doubt putting up those walls Cobbleshot had mentioned before she could crawl. It didn't help matters that Cobbleshot's style of teaching flew in the face of everything Hermione excelled at. If Harry were her, he might be uncomfortable, too.

He was just about to (perhaps unwisely) broach some of these points with Hermione when he spied Professor Snape approaching them from the opposite direction. The man didn't acknowledge their presence, though Harry had no doubt he was keenly aware of them both. Harry couldn't help but be almost physically affected by Snape's and was frustrated by the lack of recognition. A part of him wished the man would make eye contact or nod or...anything. Sneer? Curse at them?

Regardless of whether he would return the favour, Harry noticed Snape. He noticed, as well, that he seemed to be discreetly carrying something. Glass peeked from either end of his closed fingers. Harry craned his head as they passed, trying to get a better look.

"What do you think this spell is all about, anyway?" Hermione asked, oblivious to the mystery of Snape's fist. Harry reluctantly pulled his attention away from the retreating Potions Master. He shook his head.

"We aren't supposed to talk about it, remember? Against the rules." Harry, for one, was rather excited about the experiment and didn't want to skew the results.

"Oh, bother the rules!" Hermione spluttered. She did not notice for several steps that Harry was no longer beside her. When she did notice, she turned back to him irritably. "What? "

Harry squinted at her. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?" Hermione rolled her eyes at him before turning with a huff to continue her way to the Great Hall. Harry, grinning, jogged to catch back up.

"Hello, Harry. Hermione," Luna greeted them as soon as they had taken their seats, plates full of sandwiches materialising in front of them. "Quibbler?"

"Er. Sure. Thanks, Luna," Harry said, reluctantly accepting one. He passed it to Hermione who set it down as though it might be mildly infectious, though she still managed to smile politely at Luna.

"No charge," Luna added. "It's father's idea. He loved the response we had last year. He thinks the student body should have a source of reliable news to balance the Ministry propaganda in the Daily Prophet. We must avoid indoctrination," she explained. "By the way, if you have any contributions, I've set up a box outside Ravenclaw common room. All anonymous, of course," she assured them in a whisper.

"Okay. We'll...keep it in mind," Harry promised.

Luna smiled gratefully at him. "So far, we've mostly received rude jokes. But you know how it goes..." Luna always left her sentences hanging in a way that Harry could never tell right away if she was finished speaking. "Well, enjoy. Quibbler?" she asked the students next to them, making her way down the rest of the table. Harry watched her for a moment before looking down at his and Hermione's copy.

Dearg-Due Abroad: Spotted in East Coast Scottish Fishing Village.

Eyewitness accounts on pg.3

"That's sad. Perhaps we can invent something halfway interesting later to try and make up for the rude stuff," Harry proposed. But Hermione wasn't listening. Harry followed her line of sight and found she was watching as Luna forced a copy of the Quibbler on Draco. He accepted it with surprisingly little hostility. Luna moved on but Hermione's gaze didn't.

Harry blew out a sigh. "Hermione. Just forget him. He doesn't deserve your pity."

"I don't pity-"

"He's lucky I don't walk over there and hex the pants off him," Harry muttered. Recalling Draco's insult to Hermione made him pissed off about it all over again. "Look, so he's all by his ickle self. Big deal. Serves him right. It's not like he cared about you being by yourself all that time, right?"

Hermione's expression hardened, but she still stared. Which irritated the living daylights out of Harry. "Well," she began hesitantly. "He may have. Actually, Cobbleshot tried to kind of...force us on one another."

"Say that again," Harry demanded quietly, sure he'd misheard.

"Cobbleshot. It's partly the reason I was so annoyed with her. Out of the blue, she pulled us both aside." Hermione pursed her lips. "She's so strange," she complained. "It's impossible to tell if she was really trying to help or if she was just curious what would happen."

"What did happen?" Harry asked through a clenched jaw. For all that her class was interesting, this new professor's sins seemed to keep multiplying. He hadn't forgotten how much he'd hated the way she'd acted toward Hermione on the train. But forcing Malfoy on her? That was nigh unforgivable. It was as if she thought she was playing with dolls instead of real people going through real crises. The more Harry thought about it, the more angry he became.

"Nothing happened, really," said Hermione. "She told us something to the effect of, if we both had to be alone, we might as well be alone together. She couldn't know that we didn't care for one another. I was still irritated at him over the comment he made, so we basically ignored each other until she lost interest and wandered away. But I think...I think perhaps Draco had wanted to say something, but Cobbleshot put him off. And then when she was gone I left before he had a chance."

Didn't care for one another? The comment he made? How about they hated each other and he used a nasty slur? Harry just couldn't understand Hermione's nonchalance. "Don't tell me you're starting to think she was right and now we should all be friends?"

"Of course, not," she said, but without much conviction.

"Because I'll be damned if we'll be replacing Ron with that git," Harry went on heatedly.

Hermione looked horrified. "We won't be 'replacing' Ron with anyone," she said quietly but firmly.

"Gods. Hermione, you know that's not what I meant!"

"Well, it's what you said," she snapped with a scowl.

Harry bit his lip and tried to rein in his temper. "All I'm saying is Malfoy is an arsehole, lonely or not."

Hermione didn't respond, obviously brooding on something. Harry wasn't in the mood for divination. "What is it?" he said wearily. "Just say what you're thinking, Hermione."

"Sometimes people can change, Harry," she said in a small but resolute voice.

"Do you even hear yourself?" Harry demanded in a fierce whisper. "Or have you forgotten who we're talking about?"

"He's been through a lot," she argued back in the same whisper. "You know it must have been his father who was poisoning him, or else Narcissa would have sent him to Durmstrang this year with all the other Death Eaters-in-training. I just think maybe, now that Lucius is gone, now that Draco's seen where that mentality gets a person...perhaps he's started to gain a new perspective, is all," she reasoned, almost as though she were speaking as much to herself as to Harry.

"Not everything is a project, Hermione," Harry said, snatching half a sandwich from his plate and shouldering his bag, "and not everyone is worth saving." He could tell the words had wounded, but he was too irritated to take them back just yet. "I have to go for a session with McGonagall. You coming?" he asked, trying to sound civil and failing.

"I think I'll stay here and read my Quibbler, thanks," she snipped over her shoulder at him, burying her nose in the paper.

"Fine," he spat back. He stalked out of the Great Hall without looking back.

His fight with Hermione preoccupied him during his entire lesson with McGonagall. He was meant to be Transfiguring the Quaffles she was lobbing at him into...anything softer and less Quaffle-like. But after a fourth one in a row bounced dully off his forehead, she became fed up with his distraction.

"Pull your head out of the clouds, Mister Potter," she instructed irritably. "You will apply yourself to my teaching or next time we'll be using Bludgers!"

When Harry stomped back up to the Common Room, there was no sign of Hermione. It was just as well. Getting pelted with Quaffles had done nothing to ease his temper. He knew, deep down, he was equally annoyed at Draco, Cobbleshot, and himself. But that didn't change the fact he was annoyed. Besides, he had the makings of a headache. He thought of working on Cobbleshot's homework, but he couldn't focus for the mental images he kept having of her shoving Hermione and Draco together in an empty classroom. Harry snatched up a copy of the Quibbler someone had left on the sofa table instead. The damn things were everywhere.

"I'll just stay and read my Quibbler, thanks," he mocked in falsetto under his breath as he flipped, almost violently, through the pages. He perused an exclusive interview with the Cottingley fairies, then skimmed a recipe for DIY Ghoul repellent. There was even a personals section, no doubt so one could connect with their conspiracy theorist soulmate.

"Dear 'Looking for a 'Shot in the dark'," he read aloud to himself. "She'll Pass." Too bad for ol' Shotty.

It was tripe. Bollocks. Rubbish. All of it. Especially his present situation. Harry tossed the paper in the bin and went to retrieve his invisibility cloak, deciding to skip Charms.

It seemed he wasn't the only one playing truant. On his way to Remus' rooms, he passed a group of Third Years bouncing a screaming yo-yo off the wards on one of the windows and collapsing into giggle-fits over the resulting cacophony the two noises made. Which did nothing to help Harry's headache.

"Hey, you lot!" Filch shouted from the end of the corridor, shaking his fist at them. They scattered, still laughing, with Filch hobbling after the nearest offender.

"Brats. Don't they know it sets off a bloody alarm in my office every time someone messes with those ruddy wards?" he grumbled to himself as Harry slipped past. "Why'd they have to put it in my office, what I'd like to know. When I catch those grubby...Going to regret the day they were..." He was still complaining long after Harry was out of earshot.

Harry knocked on Remus' door rather more loudly than he intended, only realising after he'd done so that Remus might not even be in. Harry had merely needed a balm for his anxiety and had instinctively come here. The door did open, though, and Harry yanked the cloak from his head, startling Remus who surely hadn't been expecting him for hours.

"You've really got to stop doing that," he chided with a smile the young man didn't return. Harry tossed a 'sorry' over his shoulder as he passed Remus' threshold. "By all means, come in," Remus deadpanned, "Have a seat. Make yourself at home."

"Sorry," Harry repeated, meaning it this time. He draped his cloak over the arm of the sofa before plopping down on a cushion. "And yes, I'm skipping class. Please, just scold me about it later, okay?"

Remus' brow creased thoughtfully. He gently closed the door and then leaned against the frame with his arms folded, waiting.

"Hermione and I had a fight," Harry blurted. "Or, I don't know if it was really a 'fight'. We just got on each other's nerves. Or something." Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair before letting them fall to his lap with a sigh. Saying it out loud made it all seem so silly.

"Ah," Remus nodded. He walked over to perch on the cushion beside Harry and pat him consolingly on the knee. "It happens, you know. You have a tiff, you get over it. It's normal. Everyone does it eventually."

"We've just never really fought, y'know? We've disagreed. She's scolded. But this felt different. It's...not what we do," Harry said, somewhat confused by his present circumstance.

"Every relationship goes through changes," Remus assured him. "It's usually a good thing, though it may not seem so at the time. Want to tell me what happened?"

Harry picked sulkily at a loose thread on his cuff, feeling more foolish all the time. "Nothing, really. It's just, I think she's trying to make friends with Malfoy."

Remus was in turns surprised and pleased. "Would that really be such a terrible thing?"

Harry looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "You do know who Draco Malfoy is?"

"I'm familiar, yes."

"Hermione thinks he's changed," Harry complained. "As if he just woke up one morning and decided not to be a complete bloody prat anymore."

"And you don't think that's possible."

Harry gave him a withering look. "That doesn't really happen."

"Doesn't it?" Remus asked, shifting so that they sat side-by-side. He leaned over confidentially. "Have you never had a revelation that changed the way you viewed the world? Changed how you behaved toward others? Remember, Harry, you don't know all of Draco's story. And you're unlikely to if you never give him a chance. Passing judgement is the easiest thing in the world. It takes courage to believe in someone, especially if they've given you reason not to in the past. I'm not saying you should pass your trust out indiscriminately. But think of the times you've been misjudged. If you let him, Draco just may surprise you."

Remus could seem to tell it was a hard sell by the stubborn set of Harry's bottom lip, so he changed tact.

"Listen, believe what you will about Draco. But patch things up with Hermione, will you?" he said, nudging Harry's shoulder with his own, coaxing a small smile from the young man. "And the sooner the better. They say you should never go to bed angry with someone you love. Whatever this quarrel is about, it isn't important enough to let it come between you, surely."

Harry nodded resignedly. Remus was right. Draco wasn't worth it.

Remus smiled, patted Harry once on the knee as if all was settled and then, to Harry's chagrin, he stood up. "Now, I've got an errand to run for Dumbledore. Should I expect you for tea?" he asked, throwing a scarf over his ever-present cardigan.

Harry nodded. "Does this mean I have to go to Charms now?" he winced.

Remus laughed, "We'll let it slide. This time," he added with feigned seriousness. "I'll tell Professor Flitwick you were ill."

"I do have a headache," Harry said, rather too brightly, earning him a lopsided smile from Remus. He caught himself and explained with a shrug, "McGonagall bounced Quaffles off my head for half an hour."

Remus really laughed at that. The mirth sparkling in his pale eyes made Harry feel better already. "I'm sure I have something for your head. You should go back to Gryffindor and lie down, though."

Harry groaned. "Can't I just lie down here?" he asked hopefully, indicating the sofa. He thought Remus himself might be even better medicine, and Harry was annoyed that he had to leave.

Remus' smile faded, and he looked uncomfortable. Harry hoped he might capitulate, but finally he said, "And how are you supposed to make up with Hermione from my sofa? Go on now, Harry." He pressed a phial of headache cure into Harry's palm as a parting gift. "I'm leaving anyway. You can tell me how it went this evening."

Harry was demonstratively reluctant, but he pulled himself up and stuffed his cloak into the pocket of his jumper. "Thanks, Remus," he said, giving him a quick hug. The gesture seemed more natural each time he dared it.

"Anytime, Harry," Remus said warmly, patting him on the shoulder as he urged him out the door. "Like I told you before, I'm always here for you."

Harry took his time making his way back to Gryffindor Tower. His headache disappeared without the help of Remus' potion, so he slipped it into his pocket as he strolled. Charms was over and dinner would start soon, but Harry didn't think that was the best place for him and Hermione to settle their differences. Harry wandered around the Castle instead, killing time and trying to work out what to say to her.

Harry wasn't good with apologies, especially when he still thought he was in the right to be angry. Hermione's heart was too big for her own good. Harry usually had a soft spot for an underdog, too, but Draco most decidedly did not count. Harry was convinced that the only reason he wasn't having a high time terrorizing the remains of Slytherin and naming himself unofficial House King was due solely to the absence of his faithful thugs. If he had had any muscle at all, or any bollocks for that matter, Harry was sure Draco would have led the charge at breakfast that morning instead of leaving it to some overprotective Hufflepuff. Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but he had the feeling the ferret was up to something.

Without proof, though, he'd never be able to convince Hermione of it. In fact, he suspected the more he tried to pull them apart, the harder she'd likely fight to prove Harry wrong. Best to let it-whatever this was-run its course. This was Hermione, after all. If there was something fishy about Draco, she'd see it. She was just that clever.

For that matter, as far as apologies went, she would probably deduce most of what Harry wanted to say without him having to actually say it, and so he thought he may as well just find her first and take it from there.

The task was easily done, as she was on the Common Room sofa when he climbed through the portrait hole. She glanced at him, obviously still piqued, and went back to her studying. Harry went and sat beside her, but with the exception of scooting ever so slightly away, as though to avoid accidentally touching him, she pointedly ignored him.

Perhaps this was going to be harder than he thought. Not knowing where to start, Harry glanced over at the papers she was studying, thinking he'd express some interest and break the ice. She quickly turned them away. Before they were hidden, though, he managed to ascertain that she was working on Cobbleshot's assignment. He wasn't sure why, but it pleased him. He'd almost supposed she'd blow it off in protest.

"Still mad at me, then?" he ventured after an uncomfortable silence. Her scowl faltered, but she didn't answer. Harry figured he might as well just take the plunge. "Hermione, listen," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't like fighting with you. You're entitled to your opinion. I may not like it, but, well, I like you. And that's more important. Will you forgive me?"

Her severe expression only lasted a few more moments under the pressure of his puppy-dog expression. Hermione nodded and turned to him, suddenly all softness and yielding, and Harry wondered what he'd been worried about. That had been unexpectedly simple.

She gave him a searching, doe-eyed look. "Oh, Harry. I'm sorry, too," she said quietly.

Harry, slightly confused, wasn't sure what else to do but smile down at her. She returned it almost shyly. Then, laying aside her homework, she dug an apple from her pack and handed it to him.

"Since you missed dinner."

"Ah, Hermione. I could kiss you!" he said, accepting with gratitude. He was too busy devouring it to notice her blush. He turned his attention entirely to the fruit for a while before asking, around a mouthful of apple, "So. What'd I miss in Charms?"

"Nothing much," she told him, looking less than impressed with his manners but glad that he seemed to enjoy her offering. "So...Where were you, anyway?"

The question sounded nonchalant, which Harry suspected meant it was anything but. He shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "With Remus," he confessed. "Well, for a little while, at least. I felt like blowing off some steam. Had a headache. Remus gave me something for it."

"I'm sure he did," she said, so quietly Harry almost missed it. Before he could wonder on it, she said, much more stiffly than before, "I'll lend you my notes from class."

"Hermione, you are the best friend ever, you know that?" he proclaimed. He beamed at her, relieved that things seemed to be resolved. Far from being pleased, the comment seemed to unsettle her. "Hey. You okay? What's wrong?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing," she insisted, despite being clearly flustered. Her smile was forced and short-lived, and she promptly but gently brushed away his hand. "Just tired, I suppose."

Harry sighed inwardly. He should have known that had all been too easy. Girls, even when you weren't dating them, were never that easy.

"You know, I think I'll just work on this upstairs," she said abruptly.

Before Harry could object, she was gone, leaving him with an apple core, a roll of parchment, and the distinct impression he had missed something important.