Gryffindors cheered as Kieran got possession of the Quaffle and scored. It was early March and Gryffindor was playing Ravenclaw. The game had just started and Colin Creevey, doing commentary, announced, "And the score is 30-0, with Gryffindor in the lead!"

It was the first nice day in several weeks. Valentine's Day had been cool and crisp; since then, the gray sky had poured rain and sleet. With the dreary weather finally gone, at least for a little while, everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

Floating nearly effortlessly a good twenty feet above everyone else, Harry kept watch for the Snitch. Thoughts ran randomly through his head as he scanned the field. Catching sight of Cho Chang soaring about halfway across field, he wondered who would replace her; this was her last year at Hogwarts. Harry realized that his stay at Hogwarts was also soon to come to a close. The rest of the year would fly faster than a Firebolt, and then he would be starting his seventh and final year.

A fleck of gold startled Harry from his thoughts. Racing toward it, he could see Cho doing the same from the corner of his eye. Just a little closer; reaching out, he snatched the tiny ball from the air.

The Gryffindors screamed as Harry flew back to the ground, landing softly on the muddy field. "Come on, Harry," Celeste yelled above the noise. "Common Room! We're celebrating!"

"That was unexpected," Harry joked. He didn't really blame Celeste and Araidne for wanting to become ultimate female troublemakers early on, before they lost precious prank-playing and party-throwing time. Fred and George had probably been exactly the same way, as well and Sirius and his dad. "I'll be up in a few minutes," he called.

Changing and showering quickly, Harry followed the rest of the Gryffindor team up to the castle. Celeste and Araidne ran ahead, and by the time the rest of the team reached the Common Room, a Victory Party had already started. There was food, music, and space cleared for dancing. The Filibuster Fireworks Harry had bought for the friends were being set off, adding to the mood of celebration.

"C'mon, Harry!" Hermione cried. As she dragged him to the dance floor, a cheer went up among the Gryffindors.

The atmosphere was tempting, but before Harry could get too into the music, he reminded Hermione he still had his broom. "Just let me go lock it up in my trunk, ok?" he said, giving her a quick kiss.

Five minutes later, Harry sprinted back downstairs. There was another loud cheer; then everyone started dancing and eating, getting into the party spirit. Acting nonchalant, Harry planted the Canary Creams he had bought at Hogsmeade among the rest of the food set out for the partiers. He found Hermione and began dancing energetically with her.

Suddenly, Araidne shrieked. As people turned to look, they saw that in her place was a large canary. "Celeste!" the bird shrieked.

"Wasn't me!" Celeste defended herself.

Feathers flew around the room as Araidne, in the form of a giant canary, chased her friend. Harry could hardly breathe for laughing; he was laughing so hard he wasn't even making any noise. Sides aching, Harry tried to gasp for breath through his chuckles.

Hermione was also laughing. While it might not have been as funny from Araidne's point of view, to an outsider the scene really was quite funny. "Oh, Harry," she choked out between giggles, "I should have known!"

"Pranking is hereditary," Harry gasped; if the situation hadn't been so funny he would have attempted to say this with a straight face. "Sirius and my dad were much worse."

Hermione was laughing so hard she didn't bother answering him. It wouldn't have helped to argue, anyway; she knew he was right. Sirius Black and James Potter were a legendary pair whose pranks had gone down in Hogwart's history.

The party ran on for several hours until finally, exhausted, a majority of the people started retreating to their rooms. "Party poopers!" Celeste called out jokingly. "You're just mad because all the food is gone!" She was still full of energy, dancing enthusiastically with Araidne and several others.

Harry and Hermione sat off to the side, near the fireplace. They had danced for a better part of the party and were tired. A slow song came on; it was the last song of the party. "May I have this dance?" Harry inquired formally. The song was an old one, one of Harry and Hermione's favorites. They had adopted it as their song soon after they had started dating. Harry held out his hand to help Hermione to her feet, and they walked onto the dance floor hand in hand; as they swayed gently back and forth in each other's arms, Hermione could feel her immense love for Harry. She leaned her head against his chest, feeling the dull thud of his heart beating.

The last few strands of music floated through the air, and the song came to an end. Harry and Hermione didn't move; they continued standing on the dance floor, embraced in each other's arms. Harry kissed the top of Hermione's head.

"It's getting late," he murmured, stroking her hair.

Hermione sighed. Although she was a bit tired, she didn't want to go to bed. "Let's sit by the fire," she suggested, pulling Harry by the hand. He allowed himself to be led to the fire. Sitting on the ground with his back against a couch, Harry placed his arm around Hermione, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Hermione snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder.

And that's how they were found the next morning, asleep, by an early riser on his way to breakfast.

* * *

The Easter holidays were ruined by the amount of homework stacked against the older students. Teachers were claiming to be preparing students for exams, but many people complained that exams nearly two months away. The teachers seemed oblivious to this fact, however.

Harry sighed as he looked at the stack of remaining homework. It was Friday evening and he was nearly finished with a report for Professor Binns. Unfortunately, he still had a few essays to write, including a nasty potion Snape had assigned.

It was a beautiful evening. The clouds were streaked pink and orange and purple, and rays of evening sun shone off the lake as smooth as glass; Harry wanted nothing more than to sit outside with Hermione, watching the sunset. As he gazed longingly out the common room window, Hermione glanced up from her own Arithmancy essay.

"Oh, Harry, you know we have to finish these assignments," Hermione reminded him. She, too, wanted to get away from homework, but grades were important to Hermione and she knew she couldn't slack off. Even though it wouldn't affect her grade if she missed one assignment, there was personal pride at stake!

Grumbling to himself a little, he turned his attention back to his homework. Quickly finishing up his report for Professor Binns, Harry moved on to Snape's assignment.

* * *

May was a beautiful month. Flowers sprung up around Hogwarts, making the ancient gray castle look alive. After lessons, students would walk around the castle grounds in pairs or small groups. It was warm, and the spring air was refreshing after spending several months in the old castle.

There was also the last Quidditch game of the year to look forward to: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Gryffindor was slightly behind Slytherin in the house standings, so they had to win. Harry was training his team rigorously, and Malfoy, who was Slytherin's captain, was doing the same. Since Slytherin had always favored large players, Crabbe and Goyle had made the team the year before when some others graduated. They were Slytherin's beaters, and although they were stronger than Celeste and Araidne they were not nearly as agile.

"Slytherin has big and strong players, but we have skill," Harry prepped his team a few days before the game. "Celeste and Araidne, you would have made Fred and George proud." The best friends beamed at the compliment. "Ginny, Alois, Kieran: you have caught and scored more Quaffles than I can count." Ginny blushed with pride while the third year friends looked slightly embarrassed. "And Seamus, you have done a superb job blocking those opposing Quaffles. This is a great team, and we're going to beat Slytherin!"

Harry's six team members cheered. They were going to beat Slytherin; nothing would stop them. They went out onto the Quidditch field and proceeded to have an excellent practice.

* * *

The big day arrived. It was sunny and warm, a perfect day for a Quidditch game. Harry walked down to breakfast with Hermione. The rest of the team was already there.

"Eat up! You guys need your strength," Harry prompted his team. Knowing he was right, they helped themselves a bit reluctantly to oatmeal and pumpkin juice. Harry wasn't hungry either, but Hermione persuaded him to eat some oatmeal and a slice of toast along with the rest of his team. Harry could feel the familiar bundle of nerves in his stomach; though it wasn't the most pleasant feeling in the world, it helped keep him alert. The rest of the team was experiencing similar feelings.

After breakfast, they went to go get ready for the game. The Slytherin team followed suit, going to their own locker room. As Harry changed into his scarlet robes, he mentally prepped himself for what was about to come. Flying and a love for the game made it much easier and more enjoyable, but he had to be careful not to become overly confident. That was how stupid mistakes happened.

He gave his pep talk to the rest of the team. He could tell they were nervous, but not too high-strung. Taking a deep breath, Harry led his team out onto the field.

Before the game started, the Gryffindors took a quick lap around the field to warm up, as did Slytherin. The stands were filling up as students came to watch the game. Most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs cheered for Gryffindor; while several years ago they had rooted for Gryffindor to see an end to Slytherin's eight year winning streak for the house championship, they now cheered for Gryffindor because they just liked them better. Slytherin's evil reputation made them unpopular.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the game began. The Snitch, as was typical, disappeared immediately, and the game revolved around the Quaffle. As Harry flew effortlessly above the game, he watched his young team with pride. They really were quite good.

Malfoy, flying not too far away, was quiet. Harry had noticed that he had been unusually subdued the whole year. He idly wondered why as he kept his eyes trained on the game below.

"Ginny Weasley gets the Quaffle. She flies toward the goal, passes to Alois - score! Great play by Gryffindor! And the score is 40-10, Gryffindor in the lead," Colin Creevey announced. He was actually excellent at providing commentary for Quidditch games. Tuning him out, Harry returned his attention to the search for the Snitch. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, and Harry thought, not for the first time, that it was very peaceful high above the game.

Nothing much happened for the next hour. Gryffindor was still leading, although Seamus had let a few Quaffles by, making the score 70-50. Harry had only seen the Snitch once, and it had disappeared almost instantly.

Suddenly, Harry saw a familiar glint. Malfoy, who was at the opposite end of the field, had seen it too; the seekers tore toward each other, each trying to get to the tiny ball first. As he urged his broom forward, Harry knew he had to get there before Malfoy. Fifty feet, twenty feet, ten- reaching out, Harry snatched the ball out of the air. Malfoy, unable to stop so abruptly, crashed into Harry. There was a sickening crunch and a snap, and all was black.

* * *

Harry could feel the warmth of sunlight on his face. He opened his eyes, but his dorm room did not greet him. Instead, he could see that he was in the hospital wing, a sight not at all unfamiliar. It was late afternoon, and sunlight coming through the window above his bed formed a rectangle across his face and chest. His vision was a bit blurry; he started to reach for the glasses he knew were on the nightstand, but pain shot through his arm.

Before he could consider what kind of injury he had, he heard footsteps approaching and a fuzzy Madam Pomfrey came into view. She looked rather vexed, as she always was by sport injuries. Sure enough, as she came closer Harry could hear her muttering to herself the evils of Quidditch.

"Running into each other, getting hit by those infernal bludgers, falling off brooms, all the Quidditch injuries I have to deal with!" she complained. "And you-" this comment was directed at Harry- "you have more injuries in one year than most students have their whole time at Hogwarts!" She paused. "Although your friend over there has had his share as well." She jerked her head to the cot next to Harry.

Harry glanced over, and could only see the outline of someone lying on his side, curled into a ball. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he picked up his glasses and put them on. His vision instantly sharpened. The hunched figure was none other than Malfoy. Thinking back to the Quidditch game, Harry dimly remembered crashing into Malfoy shortly after he had caught the Snitch. He must have been injured as well.

Harry sighed and turned his attention back to Madam Pomfrey, who was checking his blood pressure. "What happened to me this time?" he asked, as one might ask about the weather.

"Well, you broke your arm and cracked a rib. I can't do anything for ribs, so you'll just have to be careful until it heals itself. You did a pretty good job messing up your knee when you fell; you'll need surgery to fix that. You also got some nasty cuts and bruises but they'll go away."

"And Malfoy?"

"He broke three ribs and his ankle. He also has a concussion." Madam Pomfrey fumed about the dangers of Quidditch for a moment before continuing. "You ran into each other pretty hard. Both of you will have to stay here about a week."

Harry was silent as she quickly finished examining him. She disappeared back into her office, and Harry turned his attention to the gifts on his nightstand. Hermione had sent flowers; they were bleeding hearts, his favorites. Although many people thought the name was a bit depressing, they really were quite pretty. The whole Quidditch team, as well as some others, had sent him presents such as Hogsmeade sweets and Zonko's pranks. He picked up a chocolate frog; he already had the card that was inside but the chocolate was still good.

He could hear Malfoy stir, but he didn't wake up. Feeling a bit drowsy himself, he put the chocolate frog card on his nightstand and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Draco could feel sleep slipping away as a massive headache took its place. He opened his eyes. Silver moonlight shone through the window. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed Harry on the bed next to him, sleeping. He thought back to the Quidditch game. The memory was dim, but he could recall racing toward the Snitch. Harry had caught it before him, and then they had crashed into each other, unable to stop at such a speed. He supposed he must have lost consciousness after that, because he could remember nothing else.

He wondered what his injuries were, besides his head feeling like it would explode. He did a quick check, trying to move each limb; Draco felt a pang when he tried to move his ankle, and figured he must have broken it. He didn't seem too badly injured.

He looked over at Harry. He was lying on his back, fast asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed. The moonlight shone off his face, making him look no more than ten or eleven years old. Harry shifted in his sleep, turning his face away from Draco.

Draco turned his own head. The only other occupied bed in the hospital wing was Ron's bed. Unlike Harry, Ron's chest did not rise and fall. Since Draco was in the Enchantments class, he knew the extent of Ron's predicament; though he had been skeptical from the start, he didn't show it. The others probably wouldn't have appreciated his views.

As the night passed, the moonlight shifted slowly across the floor. Draco fell asleep just as it began to crawl up his bed, and his breathing soon matched Harry's.

* * *

Companionship is a human emotion, and though Harry and Draco were less than fond of each other, they spent much time talking the next few days. Surprisingly, there were no rude comments or snide remarks about the crash. Harry had been expecting a "Why couldn't you have watched where you were going?" type of remark from Draco, but there was none. Not for the first time, Harry thought Draco was acting extremely subdued.

Madam Pomfrey never let visitors stay long, so as not to excite her patients, but she was being especially strict this time. Hermione came every day, to see Harry as well as to drop off homework for Harry and Draco, and Madam Pomfrey allowed the Quidditch team one visit. Draco did not have any visitors.

During their spare time, which was a good portion of the time, Harry and Draco talked. Nothing was very relevant; there were such comments as the incredible volume of homework teachers were giving and the weather. Harry's knee surgery was also brought up, and Harry said it was a little sore when he tried to bend it.

They did not speak of past differences. Since they were going to be together for a week, neither thought it necessary to annoy the other too much; bringing up the past would surely have done so.

Harry was glad that the last Hogsmeade visit of the year was not this coming weekend; it was the weekend after, once exams were over. Madam Pomfrey surely wouldn't have let them go to Hogsmeade that Saturday, as they were still recovering. Harry mentioned this to Draco, and Draco just mumbled some response. Thinking back, Harry couldn't remember ever seeing Draco at Hogsmeade besides the time he had flung mud at Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle while wearing his Invisibility Cloak in his third year.

Snape's hatred of Gryffindor, and especially Harry, was brought up, though. On Tuesday, Hermione had brought their assignments and Harry had decided to get them over with right away. Upon reaching Snape's assignment, he began muttering darkly to himself.

Draco was sitting on his bed, watching Harry with an amused expression. His black eye was starting to heal, but it was still a bit swollen. "We don't exactly love him either, you know," Draco finally spoke up.

Harry looked up sharply from his homework. "Huh?"

"I said, we don't like Snape that much either. We just pretend to because he's our head of house." Draco still had a slightly amused expression on his face. "He doesn't take points off Slytherin but he's not really that much nicer to us." His expression changed. In his gray eyes Harry saw the familiar cold look of hatred. "It isn't that pleasant behind the scenes."

Harry didn't ask him to elaborate. He doubted Snape was kind to even his favorite students; it wasn't his nature.

"I doubt he and your father are on very good terms either," Harry commented.

Harry could see the muscles in Draco's neck tense at the mention of his father. "No," he said shortly. He picked up one of his books, and Harry knew the topic was closed.

* * *

On Friday, Harry started to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was similar to the feeling he had had right before Halloween and again in mid-November. He felt sure that something was going to happen.

Harry wondered whether he should mention his thoughts to Draco. He decided it couldn't hurt to ask. "Draco?" he began, then paused in shock. He had just called Draco Malfoy, one of his worst enemies, by his first name. Shoving his shock aside, he plunged ahead. "I've been having this... feeling. Like something's about to happen. Something that might not be good."

Draco had a strange look on his face. "Really?" he said, and it was not the drawl Harry would have expected to hear a year ago. His voice was deadly serious, and there was a note of finality in it.

Harry studied him carefully. "Yeah. I- I had a similar feeling just before Halloween." He paused to let this statement sink in.

"Really?" Draco repeated, in the same tone. There was a long pause, and just as Harry was beginning to get a bit impatient, Draco spoke again. "I've been having a feeling, too," he said finally, in a strangely small voice so unlike his own.

Neither of them said anything more; just then, Hermione walked in, carrying several books. "Here," she began, "I brought your home-" She broke off suddenly, catching sight of the looks on their faces. They both seemed extremely solemn. "What's wrong?" she asked quickly, the words tumbling over each other, her voice a bit higher than usual.

Harry glanced at Draco. Draco gave a slight nod, and Harry spoke. "We've both been having this feeling, like something is going to happen," he ventured. "Similar to the feeling I had just before Halloween and then again about two weeks later."

Hermione's eyes widened as she took this information in. "Just before Ron-" She stopped.

Harry nodded. "I remember you told me you could feel it then. Can you feel it now?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, fear evident in her voice. "Yes. Something is going to happen, and it won't be good."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not as predictable as everyone had previously thought. While there was some evil in him, there was also a part that despised being told what to do. It made him feel dirty, like a house elf or a slave. Malfoys did not take orders. They did not let other people push them around. While Draco did not come right out and say it, Harry and Hermione both felt sure he would not be following in his father's footsteps.

The three of them had had a long conversation, trying to figure out what it meant. Half the problem was, though, that they didn't even know what it was. Surprisingly, Madam Pomfrey hadn't shooed Hermione out after about twenty minutes as she usually did. They spoke quietly, though, and it was possible that she hadn't even realized Hermione was there.

Hermione stayed over two hours, discussing the plan of action. They finally agreed to tell Professor Dumbledore, each of them a bit reluctant. Madam Pomfrey was making Harry and Draco stay until Sunday morning, and they decided to talk to Dumbledore that afternoon.

After Hermione left, Harry paced across the Hospital Wing, deep in thought. Draco joined him. They did not speak, but it was not the hostile silence Harry would have expected a year ago. They each felt like they were preparing for war; what would the dread feeling bring with it this time?

Finally, exhausted in both body and mind, Harry sat back down on his cot, leaning against his pillows with his eyes closed. Draco did likewise, sitting on his own bed, but he faced Harry, watching him, studying him.

Madam Pomfrey came over suddenly with their dinner; was it dinnertime already? Harry opened his eyes at the sound of her footsteps. He was not hungry, but he ate because it was something one did. He did not taste the food as he stabbed it with his fork, placed whatever it was in his mouth, and mechanically chewed it. His eyes were fixed on a point straight ahead, blank and staring.

"Harry?" Draco began tentatively. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, but he calmed when he saw it was only Draco.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. "Yeah?" he snapped, regretting his tone immediately.

A devilish grin appeared on Draco's pale face. "Want to go raid the kitchens?" he asked, a gleam in his eye.

Harry immediately felt wide awake. He nodded, his grin matching Draco's. Speaking quietly, he suggested, "Let's wait until Madam Pomfrey comes for our dinner trays. Then we'll leave."

Draco agreed, then proceeded to push his remaining food around his plate, making it look like he had eaten more than he actually had, and Harry did the same. Just then Madam Pomfrey came to take away the remains of their dinner. "Goodnight," she bid them as she swept out of the room with the trays.

Harry and Draco waited several minutes to be sure she wouldn't come back. With an unspoken signal, they crept silently to the door and out of the hospital wing. Harry closed the door slowly, trying not to let it creak.

They walked quickly. Once at the end of the hall, they felt safe. Draco started laughing first, and Harry followed. They laughed long and hard, and each time they tried to stop one would look at the other and would start to laugh again. After nearly ten minutes, Harry finally managed to get himself under control. He took deep breaths, calming down considerably. Draco followed suit; he felt another spasm but was able to control himself.

They found their way to the kitchens without difficulty. Reaching the tapestry, Harry tickled the pear. It became a doorknob and they entered.

The house elves, as usual, were more than willing to serve Harry and Draco. A moment after they had asked for food, platters of all kinds of sweets were being offered to them.

Just as Harry bit into a chocolate eclair, he felt the incredible urge to laugh again. Unfortunately, Draco was sitting across from him.

"Hey!" he cried as a mixture of partly chewed chocolate eclair and spit came flying at him. This sight caused Harry to laugh even harder, as a chocolaty Draco tried to remain dignified.

Grabbing his goblet of pumpkin juice, Draco flung the contents at Harry. Harry's mouth opened in an 'O' of surprise, with pumpkin juice dripping down his chin, causing Draco to begin laughing.

"Food fight!" Harry cried, and soon the cakes and pastries were flying through the air. Some of the food hit house elves, who looked rather repulsed, some hit Harry and Draco, and much of it littered the kitchen. House elves ran for cover to avoid looking like the rest of the kitchen.

Suddenly Draco slipped on some melted chocolate, falling flat on his face. Harry lowered the arm that was aiming a slice of coffee cake at Draco. Draco's face and robes were covered with chocolate. A large blob of jelly filling was smeared across his left arm. Something unrecognizable had been mashed into his silvery blond hair. Overall, he looked disgusting, and Harry figured he didn't look much better. He, too, was covered in chocolate and jelly. His glasses had sticky crumbs all over them, and he realized he could barely see.

Harry walked over to Draco and held out his hand to help him stand. Both their hands were so sticky it didn't make a difference. Stepping back, they surveyed the damage.

The state of the kitchens was worse than Harry and Draco. Chocolate, crumbs, icing, and other food was everywhere. "Bloody hell," Draco muttered, with feeling.

* * *

After the house elves had crept out from hiding, they immediately began cleaning up the kitchens. Harry had felt guilty for creating so much extra work, and for the first time in his life, Draco felt guilty too. They had tried to help but the house elves shooed them out.

Covered in various forms of sugar, Harry and Draco wondered what to do. They couldn't return to the hospital wing, not looking like that. "Where's the nearest shower?" Harry questioned.

They both paused, thinking. "Well, there's the prefects' bathroom, but we don't know the password..." Harry trailed off.

"Says who?" Draco demanded. "Do you know the nearest way there?"

"Yeah," Harry began doubtfully, "but what good will that do us?"

"Let's go," Draco commanded, taking charge.

Harry led the way through several short cuts. Draco seemed the tiniest bit impressed that Harry knew where to go. "What do you do, wander around all night?" he asked at one point; Harry didn't answer, for fear he would start laughing.

About ten minutes later they arrived at the prefects' bathroom. "Phoenix," Draco announced, and the door opened. The bathroom was just as Harry had remembered when he had used it in his fourth year. A large bathtub, big enough to swim in, was in the center of the room. Many taps lined the bathtub, and as Harry remembered, each tap had a different soap.

"How did you know the password?" he asked Draco, a bit suspiciously.

"I have my ways," he responded airily. Harry rolled his eyes; locking the door, he undressed. He left his boxers on, however, and Draco did the same.

Draco began filling the large bath with warm water. Harry slipped in and turned a few more taps on. Before long, the gigantic tub was filled and the taps magically turned off.

Harry did a few laps alongside Draco. Stopping, he lay on his back and closed his eyes, floating effortlessly as the buoyancy of the water kept him up.

He must have drifted off, because suddenly he felt a splash of water on his face and Draco was standing on the edge of the pool, dressed in a pair of spare robes he had found in the closet. Grinning at him, Draco voiced the opinion that Harry was probably all pruny. "Are you ever getting out?" he asked.

Harry stood in the tub, rubbing his eyes. His hands were, indeed, extremely wrinkled. "What time is it?" he muttered groggily.

"Just after midnight."

Surprised at how late it had gotten, Harry placed his hands at the edge of the tub and sprang lightly out. He took a rinse in one of the showers off to the side, washing the soapsuds from his skin. He smelled faintly of lavender; the scent was very relaxing.

He dried and dressed quickly. Draco was lying on the couch pushed against the wall below the picture of the mermaid. He watched her sleep, her long hair billowing gently in the breeze, the soft sound of waves crashing against the rock creating a mood of tranquility.

"Ready?" Harry asked. Draco stood and they went back to the hospital wing.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. The sky was a beautiful, cloudless blue. Harry sighed. While many students were outside, playing on the extensive Hogwarts grounds, he had to be cooped up in the hospital wing. He watched for a few minutes as younger students chased each other around and other students sat in small groups, talking and enjoying the wonderful day. Grumbling, Harry decided to start on the homework Hermione had brought the day before.

Harry tried to concentrate on his assignments, but his mind kept wandering. He, Hermione, and Draco were to see Professor Dumbledore the next day. Harry both dreaded and anticipated the meeting. What would Dumbledore say? Would he even believe them?

Harry was snapped suddenly from his thoughts. "What was that?" he demanded, shaking his head as if to clear away cobwebs.

Draco looked from the essay he was writing for Professor McGonagall. "I didn't hear anything," Draco responded.

Harry listened intently for a minute. The only sound other than his breathing was that of a hospital sink dripping. Draco shifted, and his bed creaked.

"Never mind," Harry muttered, going back to his assignment. He managed to focus well enough that he was able to finish his essay.

That evening, Hermione came several hours after dinner, much later than usual. Upon entering, she gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek, and then the threesome began another long conversation. As Hermione and Draco talked and the minutes slipped away, Harry realized something. He had not only lost an enemy, he had gained a very unexpected friend.