Many thanks to all my reviewers, and to all my readers for their patience. Holidays, and all that … I promise to update sooner the next time. – PepperImp

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing – it all belongs to JK Rowling.

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Harry and the others returned to school at the end of the holidays, refreshed by the short break. Immediately, however, they were bogged down with work again. Ginny was getting more and more tense, what with her OWLs on the way, and Hermione – taking more subjects than everyone else as usual – was almost unbearably irritable.

It was with some trepidation that they attended their first DA meeting of the term. Tonks had spoken to the Slytherins and invited them to attend, and as a result there was a small band of them lurking in a corner of the Room of Requirement. Malfoy was there, paler than ever, but with some of his old arrogance returned. To Harry's amazement, however, Malfoy nodded at him when he arrived with the rest of the Gryffindors.

"Potter," he muttered.

Taken aback, Harry nodded back. "Malfoy," he acknowledged. They locked eyes for a second, and then Malfoy looked away.

"What was that about?" hissed Ron, looking astounded.

Tonks began the evening with a quick refresher, for the benefit of the Slytherins. Harry teamed up with Neville again, and they had a marvellous time hexing, cursing and feinting. Everyone else had also improved dramatically with practice, and the Slytherins were open-mouthed with amazement at their prowess by the time the practice session had ended.

"Right, people – Patronuses," said Tonks, who was looking very vivid with a short, lime-green hairstyle with a pink stripe on the side. "I know some of you have already mastered it – Harry, Hermione, Ginny? Where's Cho?"

But Cho was nowhere to be seen. Tonks looked enquiringly at Michael Corner, who scowled blackly and shrugged.

"Well, then, you three – I need you to give me a hand with helping everyone else, then. How about a quick demonstration, Harry?"

With that, she kicked open a wooden trunk that was lying near the desk. A Boggart  disguised as a Dementor rose slowly out of it, the temperature in the room dropping abruptly as the torches went out. Raising its scabbed hands, it began to glide towards Harry.

Gritting his teeth as he heard a few screams around the room, Harry raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!" he yelled, summoning the heady memory of the success of the Gryffindor Braid in their first Quidditch match against Slytherin. A huge silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and charged at the Boggart, which immediately backed away, raising its arms to protect itself.

"Riddikulus!" shouted Tonks, and with a bang, the Boggart exploded.

The stag, wending its way through the students, made its way back to Harry and regarded him with its silver eyes, and slowly disintegrated into wisps of pale smoke.

"Thanks, Tonks!" said Harry, pretending to wipe his brow and grinning at her. "How about a bit of warning next time?"

She grinned delightedly back at him. "Just wanted to make sure you remembered how conjure up a Patronus under pressure," she said. She waved her wand haphazardly at the torches around the room to relight them again and accidentally set the curtains on fire.

"Oops," said Neville, quickly extinguishing them with a splash of water from his wand. Tonks grinned shamefacedly.

Within minutes, the room was filled with shouts of "Expecto Patronum!" as the students tried desperately to perfect the spell. Some were having more luck than others – Neville, who had never managed to conjure a Patronus before, managed his for the first time. Screwing up his eyes in concentration, he bellowed the incantation and was completely amazed when a hawk shot out of the end of his wand and circled the room twice before dissolving.

Blinking confusedly at his wand, Neville was startled when he was surrounded by cheering Gryffindors.

"Well done, Neville!" cried Hermione, clapping him on the shoulder. "I knew you could do it!" In elation, she conjured her own Patronus, a silvery otter, which gamboled happily around Neville.

None of the Slytherins had managed anything more than a few puffs of smoke. Malfoy was looking furious, waving his wand about angrily and muttering the incantation.

Taking a deep breath, Harry went over to him. "Need some help, Malfoy?" he asked politely, steeling himself for a rude reply. To his amazement, Malfoy regarded him appraisingly for a second.

"OK," he mumbled, so quietly that Harry hardly heard him.

"What?"

"I said OK," snapped Malfoy. "What do you want me to do – get down on my hands and knees and beg?"

Harry snorted. "Chance would be a fine thing," he said. "I'll help you, Malfoy – that's what I'm here for. Anyway, if it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't be able to produce a decent Patronus anyway."

Malfoy blinked at him. "How'd you figure that?"

"Well, when you and your mates pretended to be Dementors during that Quidditch match back in third year, you kind of forced my hand into producing my first real Patronus," said Harry, smiling. "It was only afterwards that I realized I'd done it, so when I really needed to produce one for real against some proper Dementors, I was able to. So, thanks for that…"

"Anytime," said Malfoy, grinning back. Then he stopped smiling and glared at the floor, and Harry bounced back to reality.

What the hell was that about? he thought wildly. Malfoy and I … actually having a conversation without trying to hex each other?

Malfoy looked up, and a frown was back on his face.

"Look, Potter," he said abruptly. "I don't like you. I never have, and we'll probably never be friends. But you're the best person here at defense, and my … my father always said you should learn from the best. So, if you're willing to work with me – I'll be willing to learn without giving you too much of a hard time."

Harry thought about it for a second. He didn't like Malfoy either, and he too thought it was highly unlikely that they'd ever be friends. But the Sorting Hat had told them that the houses needed to be united to fight the peril that was coming, and if being civil to Malfoy was going to help with that … well, he'd do it.

"It's a deal," said Harry, holding out his hand. "Truce – while we're working in here, that is. Any other times, all bets are off. OK?"

"Sold to the highest bidder," said Malfoy, shaking his hand. "Let's get on with it, Potter. The less time I have to spend with you, the better."

"That's more like it," said Harry grimly. "For a second there, I thought you were going soft on me."

They spent another ten minutes trying to get Malfoy to produce a Patronus, but it was useless.

"Come on, Malfoy!" spat Harry, exasperated. "You're not thinking happily enough!"

"Well, I don't have a lot of good memories to focus on!" shouted back Malfoy, who by now had flushed red with frustration and fury.

They were interrupted by shouting behind them, and turned to see Goyle sprawled on the ground, bound tightly by magical cords

"Goyle, you moron!" yelled Ginny, who had been trying to help him conjure his Patronus. "When I said I'd help you, that didn't mean you could help yourself! My backside is strictly off-limits to you!"

She stalked away furiously, leaving Goyle lying on the ground.

"Aren't you going to play the knight in shining armour and go to rescue your girlfriend?" drawled Malfoy, looking amused.

Harry watched Ginny flick her bright red hair off her shoulders, face pink in irritation, as she poured herself a glass of iced water from a jug on the desk.

"Nope, I reckon she can handle herself," he said, flicking his wand at Goyle to remove the cords. Goyle struggled clumsily to his feet, glaring at him.

"Don't even think about it, you idiot," Harry said, pointing his wand at him. "I'd take you out in a second. Go and sit down before you hurt yourself."

***

Days blurred into weeks and before they knew it, January was gone and they were into February. Valentine's Day was no longer the gaudy affair as produced by Gilderoy Lockhart in their second year, but most of the students were still very aware of it. Harry ordered two dozen long-stemmed red roses for Ginny, as well as a pretty antique silver bracelet for the occasion.

Ron, however, had gone one better. To Harry's amazement, Ron had co-opted him into a plan to get Hermione on her own on Valentine's evening.

"You need to help me out, mate," he confided. "You know what she's like – she'll belt off to the library and I'll never get her out of there. This is important – I've even gotten Dobby to help me."

"Help you with what?" said Harry suspiciously. His own encounters with Dobby had usually not been that successful.

Ron stared at an invisible spot on the wall above Harry's head and started talking very fast. "I'm setting up a table for two, with candles and flowers and all that rubbish that girls like, on the top of the Astronomy tower," he said, going redder and redder by the minute. "Then Dobby's going to magic up a three course meal for us."

He stopped and looked anxiously at Harry. "You don't think its lame, do you? D'you think she'll like it? Oh no, it's really stupid… just forget it …" He started walking away.

Harry grabbed his arm. "Good grief, Ron! Have a bit of self-confidence!" he said, grinning. "It's brilliant! She'll love it. I'm really impressed – I didn't know you had it in you."

"You think so? You don't think she'll tell me I'm being ridiculous?"

"Ron, if she does, she doesn't deserve you," said Harry with feeling. "Wish I'd thought of it. Don't worry, I'll help you. We just have to be careful – you know how suspicious Hermione can be. We don't want her guessing anything."

Valentine's Day dawned clear and cold. Arriving at breakfast, Harry was immediately swooped upon by a tawny owl, bearing a dark red envelope. He cautiously opened it, half-expecting it to be a singing Valentine, and was relieved to find it was an ordinary one – signed by Ginny. He smiled at her, and was just about to go over to thank her when Hedwig arrived, bearing his gift of roses and jewelry, and deposited it in Ginny's place. Her face lit up and by the time she'd read his card and put the bracelet on her wrist, she was glowing with happiness.

Harry was rather disgruntled, however, to see that Ginny had received a few other Valentines too. Opening a lurid purple one, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" Harry said, viciously spearing his bacon in his annoyance.

"Roses are red, Grindylows green, You're the prettiest pureblood I've ever seen," she quoted, laughing. "Must be from a Slytherin."

Looking across at their table, Harry spotted Goyle watching Ginny avidly, and grinning idiotically when he saw what she was reading.

"I think it's from Goyle," Harry chuckled, nudging Ginny in the ribs. "Check him out."

"Oh, no!" said Ginny, horrified. "You think so?"

"Yeah – I reckon he enjoyed being tied up by you, little sis," said Ron, who was eavesdropping from the other side of the table. "No accounting for taste." He swiftly ducked the piece of toast she threw at him, laughing.

However, Ron's day went downhill from there. Furious that he'd only sent her a single white rose, Hermione ignored him completely. She'd given him a beautiful watch with a brown leather strap, and was rather hurt that he'd only bothered with one flower and no card.

"I'm going to give her the other eleven roses and a pair of pearl earrings tonight – if we can get her there," Ron whispered desperately to Harry. "You've got to help me, Harry … if she won't come, I'm doomed!"

Harry caught up with Hermione just before dinner that night, at the time he'd pre-arranged with Ron. She'd already packed her bookbag, in anticipation of a night in the library after eating supper.

"I need you to help me with something," he said, grabbing her arm and steering her up the stairs.

"What?" she said irritably. Her temper had been very close to the surface all day, and Ron had been avoiding her. Very close to tears, she clearly wasn't prepared to handle any nonsense.

"It's a project I'm doing for Tonks, about the phases of the moon and their affect on werewolves," he ad-libbed madly, pulling her along with him. "I need a bit of advice from you on the current moon stage."

Annoyed, Hermione pulled her arm away from him. "Oh, come on, Harry, you can do that yourself," she snapped.

"No, I really need your help. Come on, Hermione – just for five minutes," he wheedled.

She huffed, and then followed him. He knew that appealing to her ego would work, so he trotted on ahead.

Reaching the top of the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, he pulled the door open and gestured through it with a grand flourish. "Ladies first," he said, grinning.

As Hermione went through the door, he heard her gasp and drop her bookbag. He peeked through, and was astounded to see Ron standing there wearing a Muggle tuxedo, starched white lapels gleaming in the moonlight. He was holding a bouquet of white roses, and standing in front of a tiny round table that was set with white linen, crystal glasses and silver.

Hermione burst into tears. "Oh, you … you," she sobbed. "I thought you didn't care about Valentine's day! I can't believe you've done all this … for me!"

As Ron moved forward to give her the roses and hug her, Harry closed the door quietly behind them and crept off down the stairs. Who would have thought that Ronald Weasley was just a big old romantic at heart?