A/N: here's the next chapter.

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Ugh…as though the smell in the dungeon weren't bad enough, some witless Gryffindor went and spilt…no, even better, exploded his damned cauldron all over the room! Malfoy managed to duck the airborne shreds of flabby pink flobberworm, but only narrowly, casting Longbottom a disdainful look as he stalked out. At least Potter had been kept behind a little: He had been eavesdropping into the thick-witted three's conversation and realised, not without allowing himself a smirk, that Potter had done as little work as he had. It meant that he would have to put up with the company while he studied, but he could live with that, and if he hurried he could bag himself the furthest chair from theirs, nearest the wall, get studying, and make it clear he didn't want to be disturbed. They would have to work in the Restricted Section, on the private table between the back shelves: Their parchments might be charmed unreadable to anyone but their bearers, but it might look a little suspicious if they sat scrutinising a clearly blank scroll for the next few hours. No-one would believe that even Potter would sit about doing that!

Their words had been muffled, from a few desks behind, but he got the sneaking suspicion that Weasley was in on their new lessons, too. Bloody Weasley. So much for the strict secrecy that McGonagall had been waffling on about all lesson, because petty rules didn't apply to King Potter and his merry band! From what his father, and especially godfather, had told him of the bastard, Harry was turning out rather a chip off the old block. Even walked the same, apparently. Strutted.

Striding quickly through the corridors, which were thankfully empty since he had snuck away so early as to avoid the rush, Draco ran through what he remembered of the rules in his mind…he only had two days left, and there were seven hundred and sixty four of the things, so the fact that he could only remember four was a little worrying. Granger probably knew all seven hundred and sixty four word by word, the over-zealous moron. In Draco's opinion, it said something about her that she had nothing better to do than learn stupid rules….obviously he did, he knew a shaky five at best! Time on her hands, that was her problem…

"It is deemed improper use of a magical privilege to undergo the actual transformation procedure in front of non-magical onlooker(s), however few or many the audience may consist of.

It is deemed improper use of a magical privilege to abuse or make illegal use of the gifts entitled to you, the recipient, namely the ability to transform one's physical form to that of an animal, magical or otherwise. This includes but is not limited to using Animagi transformations to commit a crime, felony or act of unlawful intent."

Two. No way could he only remember two! Hadn't there been one about…about…licenses? Or registration? Turning on his heel, Draco washed his hands and face briefly in the small bathroom to rid himself of the residual smell from potions, and made straight for the library. He had some serious work to do.

Ducking into the quietly bustling, studious silence of the library and heading straight for the Restricted Section, Draco received a suspicious look from Madam Pince, and flashed her his permission slip, signed in Albus Dumbledore's curly, flowing hand, and made his way quickly through the deserted shelves of the shady back of the great library, pacing tersely along the corridors towards the very back of the Restricted Section. Here the walls were positively lined with shuffling, shifting grimoires, their covers bound in mysterious materials, various reptile skins and magical fur, their quivering spines proclaiming exotic, and often deadly sounding subjects in a spindly, fading hand. Draco paused for a moment, as he always did, enjoying the fascinating, silent atmosphere of barely restrained magic…knowledge was power, after all. And he might as well enjoy it while he could, soon Potter and his entourage would strut in, and the quiet, dusty silence would be shattered. Damn them. Curling his lean frame into a deep armchair against the wall, Draco unrolled what would seem to anyone else to be a blank scroll onto their small oak table, smoothing its yellowing surface which crinkled faintly under his fingers.. Head bowed, sculptured face lowered to the parchment and faintly furrowed in benign concentration, loose strands of his platinum blonde hair dropped smoothly forward to veil his deep grey eyes, hiding them. He had got out of the habit of combing his hair back, not cropped it this year but left it a little longer, loose over his eyes but always perfect. Ridiculous back-combing might have been refused, but he was still a Malfoy. Repeating the long, words regulations to himself under his breath, slim lips moved fractionally as he read, an air of studious concentration enveloping him. Maybe if he looked absorbed Potter would just ignore him?

                                                            ***

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked quickly towards the library, going as fast as they could possibly go without running, half an hour after the official end of potions. "Stupid Git! I can't believe he kept us that long! And we didn't even do anything!" Ron blazed, clenching and unclenching his fist. Harry and Hermione just hurried along letting him rage loudly without really taking anything he was saying in, it was pretty standard Ron ranting, although they were both feeling the same.

As they drew nearer to the library, Ron got louder and on to the subject of favouring Slytherins. At this point Harry couldn't keep quiet, "Especially Malfoy!" he exploded, "How late did he come in?! He was a good ten minutes later than us and Snape didn't even utter a word!" Ron nodded furiously in agreement, while Hermione just rolled her eyes at the two boys annoyance and tried to hide her smirking face out of their view. It was liable to getting her snapped at.

Now that Ron had brought up the subject of Slytherins, Harry's mind would not budge from one particularly Slytherin. A tall, slim, blonde boy by the name of Malfoy. Ron carried on ranting still having no clue that Hermione and Harry were paying no attention to him, Harry more so now than before. Harry seethed mentally about Malfoy. "Malfoy's Snape's favourite so of course he didn't get yelled at. He could probably commit a murder under Snape's nose and he wouldn't bat an eyelid. Come to think of it, it would probably be my murder and Snape would help! He definitely gets away with too much, but only from Snape, which a good thing. Hogwarts probably can't handle Malfoy at full villainous capacity!" Harry's thoughts carried on in this vein for a further few minutes before he realised what he was doing. "For Merlin's sake! Damn Malfoy! Even when he's not here he's still managing to get on my nerves!" Harry shook his head and growled out loud as the three of them tried to fight their way through an exceptionally crowded corridor, causing some timid young first years to scatter from around him. Hermione and Ron gave him an odd glance but Harry just shook his head at them.

"Think of the rules, think of the rules! It is deemed improper use of a magical privilege to abuse … I bet Malfoy doesn't know them yet! Aaaahhh! Again, Malfoy! Stupid, stupid Harry!" he berated himself, trying to focus his mind back on the rules, rather than letting it stray. "Rules, Harry, rules." He muttered to himself under his breath. "It is deemed improper use of a magical privilege to abuse or make illegal use of the gifts…bet Malfoy'll use his magic illegally; probably to do Voldemort's bidding. No! Again! Aaah! Why the hell is that the only rule I can remember!" Harry realised he was clenching his fists so hard that his nails were leaving marks in his palm. "Damn Malfoy, its all his fault! I don't care how its his fault; it just is!"

Harry quelled his stream of thought, or tried to, as the three Gryffindors entered the crowded library. Madam Pince was busy trying to help out a hysterical first year as the three drew near the Restricted Section, by the looks of it the young girl had lost her potions book and was getting worked into a state about. "Bet Snape's been scaring her." Ron muttered in Harry's ear, as Madam Pince waved them distractedly past, not even noticing when Ron slipped in too.

The Restricted area was blessedly quiet. The few people in here moving around making as little noise as possible. The simple silencing charm blocking out the raucous racket from the main library. Harry said a silent thanks that he would be able to work in peace but then remembered that Malfoy would probably be there. He glared at the nearest bookcase annoyed. As the friends rounded the corner taking them into the deepest section of the Restricted area, the small table set aside for the Animagi group came into view. Harry groaned out loud, hunched over parchment, blonde hair veiling his face, sat Malfoy. Harry spun on his heel and tried to leave but Hermione's arm blocked his path. "Come on Hermione! I don't want to be any where near him!" Hermione silenced him with a glare and Harry sighed long-sufferingly whilst Ron chuckled lowly. Harry rolled his eyes and looked pleading at Hermione. She ignored him, "Ron and I are going to look for the decharming spell for the parchment. I expect you to be sitting at the table learning the rules when we come back." Hermione instructed him lowly, sounding so much like Professor McGonagall that both Harry and Ron gaped at her. "Sit!" she instructed Harry, grabbing Ron's hand and dragging him towards the normal part of the library again.

Harry sighed once again and glanced round for a chair. Unfortunately the table really was small and the only other chair was opposite Draco. "Why couldn't it be a long table so I could sit as far away from him as possible?!" Harry mumbled, roughly pulling the chair away from the table, trying to make as little and as much noise as possible and threw himself into it.

                                                            ***

Draco blinked, roused from his studies only when Harry's ankle caught his, frowning and drawing back instantly, casting the Gryffindor an irritable look.

"Do you mind, Potter?" he demanded coolly, arching a brow and scowling, annoyed to have been so suddenly interrupted from his study, and that he hadn't seen Harry enter (which was surprising consider the noise Harry had made). Harry, unpacking his bag silently on to the table in front of him, rolled his eyes wryly and sighed. If it weren't for Hermione, he would rather be clueless and incur McGonagall's wrath than endure any more of Draco's company.

"…not particularly…" he muttered in mutinous response, scraping the chair back noisily on the slate floor and making Draco's eyes narrow with the screech. Inwardly rejoicing at the little triumph, glad to have found such an easy way to annoy the blonde, Harry's bright green eyes soon turned to the apparently blank parchment on the table in front of him. Within minutes he was intent, forcing himself to at least try and study, though even Draco's silent presence grated on him. Through the veil of platinum blonde bangs, Draco watched him study with an absent interest, noting the slight crease along his forehead as he frowned, smirking to himself without realising it.  The library's silence, that had once felt so relaxed and quiet to Draco now seemed heavy and awkward, claustrophobic almost. He levelled his intent gaze on the face of the boy opposite, and was momentarily surprised when the same emerald eyes that he had been studying for a good ten minutes flickered up to meet his gaze. He looked down instantly, shifting back in his seat and affecting nonchalance.

"Do you have a problem, Malfoy?!" Harry demanded incredulously, and Draco feigned surprise easily, looking up innocently.

"Whatever gave you that impression?" he responded coolly, allowing himself a slight smirk at his opponent's silence and then turning back to his work. Harry glared at him impatiently, annoyed at his haughty manner, forcing himself to look back at the rules. The list looked longer each time he looked at it.

"Can't keep your eyes off me, eh Malfoy?" he hissed under his breath, the low retort eliciting a defiant laugh from Draco, who rolled his eyes as he replied, as though bored by Harry's very presence.

"Only in your fantasies…" he replied dryly, smirking.

"Yours-"

"Yours-"

"Yours!"

"That would be my nightmares, Potter"

"More like mine!"

"Mine,"

"Mine!"

At this last word from Harry, Draco growled under his breath, scowling and tearing his parchment out from beneath Harry's, suddenly tired with the stupid exchange.

"Look, Potter!" -he erupted, brushing his hair from his eyes and eyeing Harry contemptuously- "Some of us are trying to study! I'm well aware that it may not be you, but we lower mortals actually have better things to do than behave like six year olds! If you must be so childish and utterly puerile then you can bloody well do it in your own time!" he hissed, holding Harry's rather taken aback gaze for a few moments of malevolent silence before turning back to his parchment. As his eyes dropped onto the neat script that only he could see, he muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like 'Honestly!' his outraged murmur almost reminiscent of Hermione's impatient outbursts.

For all his self-righteous outrage, it was only ten minutes of silent concentration before he could no longer resist snapping at Harry again, looking up from his work suddenly. "What are you doing here anyway? The whole school knows you never do any work…" he remarked caustically, covering the parchment in front of him with one hand as he recited through the regulations he had learnt so far, silently counting them off in his head, lips moving fractionally, as Harry digested that last dig.

"Wh…what are you rambling on about?" he scoffed, surprised at the unsolicited statement and arching a brow at Draco's knowing expression.

Draco seemed equally surprised that he didn't figure it out, taking guilty pleasure in having one over on his enemy for longer than was necessary before explaining:
"Your pet mudblood, Granger. Everyone knows you copy her work every lesson anyway; after all, why else would anyone even tolerate her presence?" he drawled smoothly, combing his hair back from his face as he spoke.

"Malfoy, you cynical prick!" Harry responded in a furious whisper, eyes narrowed through the lenses of his glasses- "It's no wonder you don't have any friends!" he retorted angrily, growling under his breath and glaring across the table in irritated surprise. Draco laughed sarcastically under his breath, again feigning amused carelessness in the face of Harry's fury. "And how would you know? Ah…on second thoughts, don't tell me. I really don't want to know the sordid details of your private life!" he sniped, shuddering theatrically and smirking as he turned over his parchment. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Harry grew tired of his constant snide remarks and interrupted: "It is deemed improper use of a magical privilege to abuse or make illegal use of the gifts entitled to you, the recipient, namely the ability to transform one's physical form to that of an animal, magical or otherwise. This includes but is not limited to…"

Draco rolled his eyes, taking silent, triumphant pleasure in the fact that he had had the last word. Well, the last coherent word, anyway. He shifted his parchment, unrolling it to reveal the next subsection wearily, and its top slipped over Harry's list, obscuring it almost entirely. The thoughtless action made Harry scowl, presuming Draco had noticed, and he tapped short fingernails impatiently on the scratched oak tabletop, beating an irritable rhythm against the wood. The intermittent drumming made Draco grit his teeth, setting his jaw and forcing himself to ignore it. The impasse lasted a good few minutes before Draco, surrendering to the impulse, snapped. He slapped his wand-hand down flat over Harry's pressing the other boy's warm palm hard onto the table and scowling, inwardly seething.

"You're on my parchment." Harry quickly interrupted, surprised. His deep emerald eyes fell on their hands, the warm pressure over his making him blink. "And my hand!"

Draco scowled, refusing to relinquish his grip. "Fuck, Potter, you're doing this on purpose!" he exclaimed, the volatile temper that was so unusual in his calm, cold demeanour surfacing suddenly. He took momentary satisfaction in the surprised, incredulous expression on Harry's face, though his scowl remained set.

"Me!? I'm not doing anything! It's you that's-," he protested, cut off by the surprised silence on Draco's part. The other boy's cold grey eyes were fixed on a point above Harry's head, and he squirmed 'round to see what it was Draco was so intent upon.

Hermione.

"Harry, we found…aah. Are we interrupting something?" she stuttered, smiling archly. Still leaning across the table in their annoyance, their faces so close they almost touched and Draco's hand pressed firmly over Harry's, her expression was one of surprised, benign amusement. The boys had frozen.

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