Harry was released from the hospital wing not long after the headmaster had left, as there was nothing modern magical medicine could do for him. His strength had returned to him by then, so he was walking on his own as the trio made their way back to Gryffindor tower. Several unfortunate first years on the way back from class were severely scared by Harry's apparently looming figure, and bestial features as he was walking down the corridors. Some screamed and ran for their lives, others froze or fainted.

Harry didn't bother with the DA training before dinner, as he was trying to get used to his new body. His tail eventually let go of Hermione when she stepped out of its grasp, and instead it curled around his waist. Ron had joked about getting him a giant litter box for a toilet, until Hermione smacked him over the head scolded him on being insensitive. Harry didn't care, and found the largest winter cloak he could from his wardrobe, donning it to obscure most of his changes so he wouldn't scare the entire school upon entering the Great Hall for supper.

It was a good thing that most from their year had witnessed Harry's incident, as well as seen the result, so they were more sympathetic, and went to inform the DA that they were to continue as normal, but working from books to find new curses instead of having Harry lecture them. Ron went in Harry's stead to supervise, while Hermione remained behind in the common room, supposedly to finish up her Potions essay on Veritaserum. Harry suspected that she only remained behind to assure herself that he didn't scare the first years too badly with his appearance. She was a Prefect after all, and she took her duties seriously, unlike Ron.

Harry spent the time reading up on his Magical Creatures, and ignored the stares his hooded cloak got from the younger students. Maybe it was time to have the Room of Requirements manifest phantom creatures to appear in the maze, maybe to have phantom instructors in physical combat. It was a very interesting concept, one he intended to fulfil if the Room of Requirements allowed it. It probably would, as long as all instructors and creatures were a generic representation within their species and educational field. Recreating specific beings would probably either rob the existing being of mind or soul or steal a passed soul from its rightful rest. Maybe the Room of Requirements could simply conjure solid illusions of creatures and persons, the idea held some fascination, and Harry was seriously debating whether he should do it.

Of course, Harry still had to keep control over himself, his instincts around the massive amount of pheromones floating about Hermione, and the fact that she was in heat made his instincts want to jump her and plant his seed, procreate with as much passion and for as long as possible. It took all his Occlumency skills not to give into these urges, as they were only the result of his botched transformation. Normally, Occlumency could not protect from what came from within, but the basics helped keep his hormones from taking over.

Dinner soon came, and Harry stood up to face the rest of the school.

Hermione stood with him, and came over to him. Both noticed that Harry's tail uncoiled from around Harry's waist to wrap around Hermione's as soon as she got within range. An apologetic look from Harry was all he needed for Hermione to shake her head, indicating that she wasn't upset with him for something he couldn't control.

'Just don't try and take advantage of this situation,' she warned him.

What do you mean, "take advantage of"? asked Harry, tilting his head in confusion.

'Er … you know …'

You feel that I will ravage you because you are currently ovulating and at your most fertile state for a month? asked Harry while putting on his most innocent face.

Hermione's response was to blush furiously.

Although it is very tempting, I do have some control on my emotions, Hermione. he stated as they continued their walk, A side effect of a fledging at Occlumency.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' Hermione sighed, still bright red. 'I just remember how I reacted when I was in a similar state in second year, it is very difficult to resist some urges that come with being feline, as I should know. I nearly plead madam Pomfrey to tie me down to keep me from licking myself clean. And I just don't want you doing something you might regret.'

If I do go berserk, stun me before I do any harm, Harry plead, seeing the logic.

Hermione nodded wordlessly as they arrived before the doors of the Great Hall. Harry huffed in nervousness, and pushed the doors open.

'- now, Mr Potter is not dangerous as of yet, nor is he a werebeast despite his appearances, but do not provoke him, as he still has some animal instincts, and those could take over during a moment of heightened emotions,' Dumbledore appeared to have finished his warning, luckily, as it would save Harry a great deal of scrutiny before his uncloaking. 'Here he is now, Mr Potter, if you would be so kind …'

Harry growled in irritation, startling a few blessedly ignorant students, before reaching for his cowl and pulling it back, revealing his face. A chorus of gasps rang through the entire Great Hall, even some of the professors gasped at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. Growling once more in irritation, Harry grabbed the closest Gryffindor seat he could find, and set about ignoring everyone, and shuffling food onto his plate. This action scared a few of the younger students, as they had yet to become as accustomed to strange happenings as the elder ones. Hermione gingerly sat, making sure that the coiled tail wasn't sat on, as felines tend to be rather hot tempered when something lands on their tail.

As Harry ate, even if he tried to ignore it, he heard the snickers of the Slytherin table, and the whispers of nearly everyone on the Great Hall. Everything he heard was either in mockery of him, or sympathy, and he didn't like it.

He shoved the fork he had scraped up his food on into his mouth, and nearly instantly spat it back up again. He studied the wet food for anything that could have caused this reaction.

'Panthers usually eat meat, and only the occasional fruit,' Hermione supplied as she tried not to look at Harry's plate.

Yowling in irritation, Harry tried to vanish the mess he'd made, but could not perform the spell. He looked piteously at his best friend.

'Fine,' she sighed and waved her wand at the mess. 'Evanesco!'

Thanks, Harry wrote before carefully selecting meats from what was available and sniffing fruits to see what made his stomach churn. This way, he could avoid such episodes again.

Days passed, and Harry grew more and more frustrated. He was simply unable to perform magic without the incantation, he had tried throughout his lessons, he had tried during the DA meetings, and he had tried before going to bed, it was useless.

Harry was about to attack something physically when he felt his tail move, and coil around something slender.

'I'm sorry if I startled you,' Hermione apologised and tried to retract her arm.

Harry tried to make the tail let go of her arm, but it refused to listen, and he was forced to look desperately up at his best friend. She sighed in resignation and sat down close at hand, as her was wrapped up in a strong and flexible tail.

'I see you are having trouble with your casting …' she stated. Harry growled his ascent. 'Maybe you should relax a bit, you're working too hard. Take a moment to get a better perspective and then return to it. I do that myself when I get stuck on an essay …'

You've got a point, Harry agreed and let himself fall back into the chair, covering his face with his massive hands while yawning widely. Sometimes you can't see a forest because of all the trees …

'What?'

A saying I heard somewhere … Harry explained and rubbed his neck. It means that sometimes you look for something so hard, you can't see the obvious clues right in front of you.

'That makes some sense …' agreed Hermione.

Harry sat in silence for a moment, staring into the warm fire of the common room. Wordlessly, Hermione's captured hand reached for Harry's head, and started scratching behind his ears. Harry started purring in delight at the tingling feeling this spread from his scalp, and subconsciously leaned his head into the hand. This was how Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the wizarding world's hero was found by Ron, curled up in his cushy chair, purring up a storm – this had several of the younger students in the common room shiver in suppressed fear from the monstrous sound – as Hermione calmly scratched behind his ears as she read over her essays.

'What is going on here?' asked the redhead sternly.

'Oh, hi Ron,' greeted Hermione, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. 'Harry needed some distraction from his work so he could get a fresh view when he returns to it.'

It was a simple and factual sentence, nothing implying anything more, or anything hidden.

'Really?' asked Ron, slightly disbelieving. 'Hermione, I need some help with my Herbology essay, could you come with me to the library and look it over? Madam Pince wouldn't allow me to bring the reference books for some reason …'

'Of course,' Hermione agreed at once. 'Glad to see you are finally taking your studies seriously.'

Harry was once more left to his own devices, and wasn't all too happy about Hermione having to leave – not that he fancied her, but she knew exactly where to scratch for the best effect – and that he now had to face the daunting task of trying to perform magic without uttering the incantation.

In frustration, Harry banged his fist into the table, and saw that the feather he had tried to levitate caught fire from nothing.

As the feather burned, Harry watched it in fascination. He had lit it without saying a word, just like he had blown open the lock of the cupboard containing his school things during the summer before his third year. Was that all it took? Powerful emotions? Harry gave it another go with a new feather, after brushing away the ashes of the previous one. As he thought of the spell and its effects, he envisioned his happiest memory, his most recent birthday.

Harry performed the wand movements, and saw the feather twitch, although it might have been air that moved it. He tried again, thinking back on the feeling of having his feline head scratched, and performed the movements. The feather rose from the table, making Harry very ecstatic, although the moment he lost concentration the feather made an unexpected move, and shot into the air. A sharp thud sounded through the common room, making everyone look up at the source … a pearly white feather sticking halfway into the ceiling. Harry grinned sheepishly – or as sheepishly as a feline is able to – and returned his attention to the table, knowing that the attention of the others would go away soon enough.

Sure enough, not five minutes passed before Harry was completely ignored by everyone.

Harry on the other hand, was thinking through what had happened, and was ready to try again. However, his tests were interrupted by the slam of the portrait, and the stomping of Hermione as she entered the common room, looking angry enough to scare off demonic beings. Her gaze was nearly immediately shifted to Harry, and it was all he could do not to flinch and hide from the murderous look.

'Did you know?' she demanded angrily and stomped up to him, her face stopping mere inches from his nose, tickling his whiskers.

Harry had no idea of what she was talking about, but didn't know how to best go about phrasing this.

'You didn't, did you?' it baffled Harry how Hermione was able to read his expression through all this fur and his new face. Harry looked expectantly at Hermione as she backed off to the chair she had previously occupied, waiting for her to explain herself. Before she could, the portrait opened once more to admit a thoroughly embarrassed Ron, who wore a near glowing red imprint of an open hand on his face as he stomped through the common room, red ears and with his essay and books messily crumbled under his arm.

Harry looked from the retreating figure of Ron, to Hermione who had defiantly stared into the fire from the moment Ron entered. He did not look away until she looked up at his questioning expression.

'Fine,' she sighed after a few moments of their little staring match. 'You know that Ron asked me to help him with his essay …' she stated, Harry nodded in understanding. 'Well, he had an ulterior motive. He did have an essay to write, and those books were restricted to the Library, so he was truthful in that part … when I had read his essay through, I looked up at him to find out what he had problems with, and he tried to kiss me! He didn't even ask first! He even had the nerve to claim that I had been hinting all summer that I liked him, and that he was reacting on my hints. When I denied it, he said that it didn't matter, that it was unavoidable that I ended up with him, that it was a universal rule in a triangle friendship like ours. He was acting so arrogant – I just couldn't handle it and reacted out of instinct, the less violent of two choices, although he went on like I had kicked him in the pills and he would never have children.'

She sighed and fell back onto her chair, looking up at the ceiling.

'I think I've seriously damaged my friendship with Ron …' she sighed eventually. 'If I never speak to him again, he will think I am brooding, and if I ask forgiveness for the slap or forgive him, he will take it as a sign that I fancy him. What should I do?'

Harry was furious with Ron for trying something like this, and had a good mind to follow him up to their dormitory and beat the daylights out of him, but settled for growling in restrained temper and shrugging his shoulders to Hermione's question.

You are my advisor for emotional problems, he wrote, I have no idea how to fix your problem other than let Ron come to his senses without your help, and to make sure, when he does, that you have him understand your feelings.

Hermione snickered after a moment.

What?

'For someone as clueless about emotions as you claim to be, you certainly know how to handle things …' Hermione mused.

I try, Harry commented.

Hermione in turn smirked and reached out her hand, scratching him behind the ears and making him nearly melt into his chair in delight. It is said that petting a cat is very therapeutic, and calming, and if Harry had not been enjoying this so much, he would see the anger slowly drain away from his friend's face, and be replaced by a slightly happy one.

Once more, his purrs startled and unsettled several students.

'You're just a big kitty-cat aren't you?' Hermione teased affectionately, cooing at him. This in turn caused a few other females in the common room to become a lot braver and copy her in her petting and scratching. Harry was in heaven, and his animal instincts were in control, causing him to simply stretch himself as much as possible over the arms of his chair so more hands would fit. This could wipe Harry's mind of the disastrous meeting he had with Hagrid the first time he met him in the corridor after the incident that made Harry how he was currently. The friendly half-giant had treated Harry very much in the same way as he had with Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, and Buckbeak the Hippogriff, and tried to pat Harry. With that man's experience with beasts one would think he knew how to pet a cat, but unfortunately, he was allergic, and when he tried to pat Harry, he rubbed Harry's fur the wrong way before sneezing at him with enough force to blow him backwards several feet, luckily dry. No, this was the way it was supposed to be, this was the right way to do things, and he could stay in this paradise forever.

'Mr Potter, would you be so kind as to tell me why you missed your appointment at my office?'

Harry's eyes opened instantly in recognition of the voice of his Head of House, and nearly dislodged several pairs of hands as he started.

'Ah, scratching,' professor McGonagall sighed in remembrance, 'the feline's ultimate weakness next to a beam of warm sunlight to laze about in and a ball of yarn to chase.' Harry started purring again, as a Charlotte Creevey started tickling his stomach. 'Well, I see there's little concentration to gather here, Miss Granger, make sure Mr Potter gets to my office after breakfast tomorrow.'

'Of course, Professor,' Hermione readily agreed.

'And let him be allowed to do his assignments before bed, will you?'

'No problems, Professor,' chirped Ginny in as she joined in on the fun, 'Harry always finishes his assignments before dinner every day. He was probably done with them yesterday.'

It was near noon when Harry got out from Professor McGonagall's office from the tiring and fruitless Animagi lessons. Hermione met him at the door, and grabbed his arm, guiding him somewhere without it having been arranged.

Help! Kidnapping! Harry wrote jokingly, waving the sign about wildly, nearly knocking down a suit of armour.

'Stop being so melodramatic,' Hermione giggled and gave his arm a light punch.

Where are you taking me? Harry asked, still in a slightly tired and joking mood. You don't plan on ravishing me, do you?

'No, not at all,' she reassured him while suppressing a smile, 'I just thought you'd like to visit Dobby, as it has been a while since the last time.'

A nice thought, but if I went into the kitchen in this state, I'd start a panic, Harry wrote, gesturing to himself. Harry was relieved that Hermione's fertility cycle had moved on, as his instincts weren't as strong now as they were during those two days she was at her most fertile. He idly wondered why he wasn't reacting to any of the other females at Hogwarts, but reasoned that they weren't at that stage of their cycle yet.

'I already thought of that, and planned on going in for you and retrieve Dobby for you to visit in the corridor outside the Still-Life,' Hermione countered.

Harry couldn't argue with that, but was still a bit weary. Hermione lead him through corridors and passageways until they stood before a large still life of a bowl of fruit.

'Wait here,' Hermione instructed and wiggled her arm free from Harry's tail before entering the doorway behind the painting.

Harry considered disobeying her as he stood there in wait of Hermione and Dobby, but thought of how Hermione had treated Ron when he did something that she disagreed with, and stood his ground.

'Master Harry Potter, sir!' squeaked an excited voice before Harry was hugged around the legs by a pile of laundry. 'Master is a great wizard to come see poor Dobby when he himself in such a horrible condition!'

Hullo, Dobby, Harry wrote as he tried to stay upright. How are you and Winky?

'Winky very happy again, asked Dumbledore about serving Harry Potter, we did. Master Harry Potter is not angry, is he?' Dobby looked up at Harry with those great big eyes, and Harry couldn't be mad at the house-elf even if he had killed his family and torched a church. Besides, what did it hurt to have two house-elves help him while he was in this condition, it's not like they had become his personal servants …

For whatever reason, I can't stay mad at you, Dobby, and you've done nothing wrong, Harry wrote. I'm glad that you two are coping so well.

'Thank you, generous master Harry Potter, sir!' the small creature squeaked excitedly.

'Yes, master is very generous,' agreed a more timid squeaky voice from the open doorway. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise, not having seen Winky arrive. 'We is glad to serve.'

Time moves on, as it unfortunately has a habit of doing when one has things to worry about. Harry was becoming very adept at speechless magic, managing to perform the same tasks as any other student within the middle of November, although his spells' power left a little to be desired, and he had gotten a fair bit of control of all his appendages. But for some odd reason, his tail would not listen to his commands when it came to curling around Hermione's wrists, waist of ankles. It was very odd, he was able to pick up a thin needle from the hard table with that tail, he could lift one end of his trunk with it, but he could not get it to let go of Hermione.

Another thing was that he noticed his spells could, occasionally, be done even without a wand. He only tested this theory when he was completely alone, and watched Dobby or Winky as they performed wandless magic, to see if there were similarities between his feat and theirs. He had not yet told Hermione of his discovery, and planned on keeping it that way until he could control it. The DA training was stepped up before dinner, to include an hour of physical combat with illusions of martial arts instructors. The maze Harry had the Room of Requirements set up, now also included solid illusions of creatures they needed to get past, something that had scared the wits out of several of them the first time they had seen a dementor appear around the corner.

Harry and Hermione both moved their way through the library, covering all the subjects they could, and even sneaking into the Restricted Section one night or two to retrieve some books. Things were going splendidly. The Inquisitorial Squad had mostly joined the Duelling Club on Malfoy's orders, as Malfoy had joined, and tempted with the idea of beating Harry and his pathetic little fans into the dust come the duelling contest at the end of the full year.

The first Quidditch game of the year was played, and Harry watched with Hermione from the stands. Ron and Ginny seemed miserable because of Harry's ban from the sport, but had managed to work at cooperating with their new team mates instead. Ginny had given up her position as Seeker in favour of becoming a Chaser, something she seemed to be a natural at.

Soon the time came for students remaining to write their names up on a list passed around by their Head of House. Harry signed up as usual, and was surprised to find that Hermione and the younger Weasleys also had done so. Hermione reasoned that her parents had realised she was safer at Hogwarts than she would be with them, and were willing to spend a Christmas without her if she would be safe from the war and terrible people they had been informed about. Ron and Ginny would remain because their parents would spend Christmas with Bill, Fleur Delacour and her family. It came as a slight shock to Harry to hear about their engagement, as he didn't know they knew each other that well.

The first snow of the season fell in thick flakes. Within one day, it reached as high as the knees of the poor sixth year students that had Care of Magical Creatures at Hagrid's hut. Harry was lucky that his fur insulated him somewhat against the cold, but he took a longer time in drying than the others because of it as well.

Harry's Animagus lessons were as fruitless as they had been, he still had not changed a hair of fur on his body, but was adapting.

It was only a few days left before Christmas started when Harry got a note that stated his presence was wanted at the office of his Head of House.

Wondering if he had done something wrong, or if Ginny had been planting evidence against him with her pranks, Harry made his way to professor McGonagall's office. His presence and looks had become part of the normalcy in the school, and he hardly scared as many children as he used to, prowling down the corridors, although most of the students were still skittish around him, because he looked like he would pounce at the drop of a hat.

Harry finally arrived outside the office he never really liked visiting, and he had a queasy feeling that he would not like this visit any better. He knocked firmly on the door.

'Yes?'

As Harry was unable to answer, he merely knocked once more.

'Yes?'

The tone of his Transfigurations professor was starting to get annoyed, but once more, Harry knocked.

'If this is a prank, you can look forward to detention, whoever you are!'

Harry heard stomping steps closing in on the door. His instinct told him to flee while he still had the chance, but he remained, even as the door was torn open by a miffed professor McGonagall.

'Oh, it's you, Harry. Come in,' she stated and stepped aside so Harry could enter.

Thank you, professor, Harry wrote and entered, taking the seat in front of the desk, trying not to show how nervous he was.

'Now,' she started, and sat behind her desk, 'to the business at hand. This is for you,' a plain brown envelope was slid across the desk to him. 'Now, as you might have heard around the castle, the first date of the competition is boxing day. Dumbledore will hold a short speech before it starts, then you will all go to your assigned chambers. The last day of the competition is New Years day, and the bell will sound when it is time to bring your contribution to the Quidditch pitch where they will all be judged.'

Huh? Harry was genuinely confused, what on earth was she jabbering about?

'The Ice Sculpturing Competition, Potter,' professor McGonagall declared, 'the last chance to resign from it was a week ago when you could have gone home.'

But – I don't know the first thing about carving ice, I don't even know how to carve wood!

'You should have thought about that before you chose not to resign, now, if you'd please return to your common room, I have other students to inform.'

Harry was shooed out of the office amidst protests and yowling, but it was no use and he soon found himself in the corridor again.

If one happened to be wandering around the castle, one might be so unlucky as to come across Harry in this furious state. Those few that did, ran for their dear lives and screaming for their mommies. Some nearly ran to their deaths off the changing staircase, but luckily, there were safety measures in place to keep just that from happening.

This was how Harry entered the common room, looking like he was a beast on the prowl, ready to pounce on anything that so much as twitched.

Had anyone been brave enough, they would have mentioned the similarities between Harry's current entrance and Hermione's over two months earlier. As it was, Hermione was studying her notes in an effort to keep up with Harry, and looked up as Harry stormed in.

'Something wrong?' she asked with genuine concern, marking her page so she could dedicate her full attention to him.

Harry growled and tossed his envelope at her, starting to pace the room as he pondered how to resolve this mess. He didn't know how to carve anything but his initials into anything, how was he supposed to cut something out of ice? A silenced snicker caught his attention, and he turned to his best friend. Her face was red and partially covered by her hand as she held the envelope and she was shaking from repressed mirth. Harry growled in annoyance at not being understood.

'This is the problem?' she managed to ask through her snickers. 'You can't carve, neither can I, but I'll try anyway. This isn't serious, Harry, no lives depend on you making the best sculpture … it's just for entertainment, to take our minds off Voldemort.'

Harry calmed down, but was still not happy about the idea.

'If you have such a big problem with not being good enough, read about it, look it up in the Room of Requirements, but sulking won't help a bit,' she lectured and handed him back the envelope.

Harry lowered his head like a scolded child and started considering the possibility that he might be doing this for fun. Hermione was right, this was not supposed to be deadly serious, it was meant to get everyone to stop worrying about the war that was so far simmering and bubbling, waiting to come to a full froth. But what would he make? Only those that jumped in with both feet first would have to worry about it, and if he had a subject before the contest started, he would not have to devote so much of his precious time to figuring that out.

If he was planning to do it simple, he would try to make a sculpture of his house animal, but that was unimaginative. He could try making a Thestral, but so few in school could see them, that they would think he was exaggerating, or they would refrain from going near the carriages again for fear of those hideous creatures pulling them. He could try to make a statue of Dumbledore, but that would be taken as flattery or hero-worship. He couldn't make one of Voldemort, because it might frighten everyone. The saying, "Knowledge is Power" struck him. He could make something that represented knowledge … a book, but that wasn't nearly powerful enough to earn anything more than laughter. Swords could represent power, as people seemed to fear those holding swords. He would keep around those two, as they were the most likely to be his choice.

Not wanting to think any more about it, Harry yowled goodnight to Hermione, though no one else could understand what he meant, and went to bed.

Christmas morning arrived, and Harry awoke on it for the first time since he arrived without the aid of Ron or Hermione. Ron was still slightly miffed at Hermione, and as Harry sided with her, he was persona non grata until further notice, and therefore was not the victim of polite acts from him. Not that it mattered anyway, Harry was the first to awake, and went silently to the Room of Requirements to train some more.

He was in his two hundreds of lifting weights when the door to the until last year secret room opened to reveal Hermione and Ginny, still in their nightgowns but with robes covering most of them. Fluffy slippers kept their feet somewhat warm.

'I told you he'd be here,' stated Hermione to Ginny and flicked her wand, sending a large pile of wrapped presents into the room. 'He'd continue training even if Voldemort was at Hogwarts' gates declaring his retirement.'

'How much do you think he's lifting right now?' asked the ginger fifth year.

'Hard to tell, the bar moves too quickly to get an accurate number …'

'Oh, what are you? A Muggle or a witch?' huffed Ginny.

'Well, if you know how, then by all means …'

'We haven't covered that kind of thing yet, and as far as I know, only you and Harry would read so much as to actually know it.'

'Fine,' sighed Hermione. 'I'll find out.'

You could just ask me, wrote Harry, holding the sign with his tail.

'No need,' chirped Hermione merrily, 'Weigh it!' she commanded her wand, pointing at the bar Harry was currently pumping into the air.

120 kg.

Harry snorted at the number that appeared in the form of a red ribbon.

It forgot the other half, he commented and finished his set, setting the heavy weights on the ground.

'What?' asked Hermione. 'I did everything right, it can't be the wrong number.'

Your aim was slightly off, you hit to my left, not the exact centre like you were supposed to, Harry corrected as he stretched his torso, back and arms. Since your aim was off, so was the weight.

Hermione blushed at her error before repeating the charm correctly to find Harry was correct.

'Let's not split hairs, sorry Harry, and lets instead get to what we are all here for,' Ginny interrupted solemnly, 'PRESENTS!'

The sudden change took Harry slightly by surprise, and he realised that the huge pile had been divided into three, one for each of them. Ginny had by then squealed and leapt to her own pile, followed by Hermione diving for her own. The sight of two soon-to-be adult women giggling with greedy glee at the presents they had gotten from their family and friends warmed Harry's heart. There were not many occasions for them to relax so completely as this, and Harry felt honoured to be allowed to witness it, although he found the sight of Hermione's exposed leg distracting, and had to turn around for a moment to reign in his hormones. He pointedly avoided looking at the naked leg as he made his way to the third pile, the one that held his name on the labels.

The first present Harry found was from Ron, a fairly small one, but Harry was never one to complain about something as trivial as the size or quantities of his presents, and opened it to find a slightly beaten golden snitch. Obviously the youngest male Weasley had hopes that Harry was able to rejoin the house team.

The next one came from Ginny, a giant box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and an apology because she had been on a date with Dean during the last Hogsmeade visit and only remembered the presents at the last moment. Harry didn't mind, although he could only eat a few select flavours of the candy, and had to sniff them to correctly identify them. It had been a very unpleasant experience to go through a box and identify the various tastes by smell. He shuddered at the memory but gave the redhead a friendly hug in thanks.

The next was the yearly Weasley package from the general Weasley family, meaning those not attending Hogwarts at the time. A new Weasley sweater, with Harry's initials knitted in golden on green. The mince pies smelled very tempting, and Harry was happy that he didn't have to give up all the foods he liked to eat. He never would have thought that he would ever miss the taste of a baked potato with butter and salt on it, or boiled vegetables. He tasted a small piece of one pie, and savoured the meaty taste.

There were a few presents from those in the Order that felt comfortable enough to give Harry presents, Tonks gave him that Weird Sisters t-shirt she promised him, and Lupin got him a scratching post as a gag.

Finally, Harry came to Hermione's present. It was of course a book, but he recognised the title as part of the old saying; "Know something about everything, and everything about something". The title of the book was Something About Everything, by an unknown author. He really appreciated this gift, but was unable to express it, as his tail had once more snaked its way to Hermione's limbs, making her aware of the exposed leg, and making them all forget about thanks for a moment. For a fleeting moment, he regretted giving her the revised edition of Hogwarts; a History, this regret soon vanished as Hermione squealed in delight and pounced him while thanking him repeatedly.

They are soon finished with their presents, and together float them back to their dormitories. Ron is still asleep, despite it being Christmas Morning, and nearly eight. The unfinished Defence Against the Dark Arts essay was explanation enough for why the stubborn redhead had been awake for so long.

Ginny, being the kind and considerate sister that she was, decided to wake her darling brother for this fine Christmas morning, by pouring a large bucket of icy water mixed with snow from the ledge running around the tower over his head. The startled scream could be heard all the way down to Hogsmeade, but no one batted an eye to it, as it didn't seem to be anything indicating any danger about it. Ron was soaking wet and chasing Ginny through Gryffindor tower yelling threats and promises after her, and leaving a trail of cold water. Harry and Hermione were not bothering to restrain their mirth, and were joined by the few Gryffindors that remained in laughing at the antics youngest Weasley siblings.

Since everyone was awake, Ginny suggested they go to breakfast. Ron did not like this idea, as he had yet to open his presents. This meant that the others left without him, because they were very hungry, and Ron had resisted earlier attempts at more subtle ways of rousing so it was his own fault he hadn't been there to open the presents along with the others.

At breakfast, everyone were speaking with their friends about what they had gotten for Christmas, and the mood was high. Harry soaked in the atmosphere and sat in his usual seat before picking out the meats he found tasted the best. Hermione or Ginny would help him reach some if they were out of his reach. Harry was happy there had been a declination of Death Eater attacks over the past months, but feared that this would mean an attack of a larger scale in the possible future. Christmas was never the same as it was during his first year when he had not been the indirect cause of another human's death, he had been so innocent then, bright eyed and hopeful of a world of new possibilities.

Ron joined them eventually, and raced his way through the meal to catch up.

Harry, Ginny and Hermione watched the red menace stuff his face quickly enough to choke an industrial sized garbage disposal unit. After a long time, Ron finally felt full, and ceased eating, patting his belly with a satisfied sigh.

'That was delicious, nothing quite like the food they serve at Christmas,' he stated to no one in particular. 'What say we have a good old fashioned snowball fight?'

This idea seemed to rouse some excitement among the Gryffindors, and soon those remaining of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were all for the idea as well, all racing to their respective houses to change into heavier clothing. Harry remained for a moment as Dumbledore came walking down between the tables, smiling merrily as he hummed some unknown Christmas carol.

'Harry, merry Christmas to you,' the ancient wizard greeted as he closed in.

And to you, professor, Harry returned. Did you like the socks?

'Very much so,' agreed Dumbledore merrily and pulled at the hem of his robes, revealing a pair of mismatched green and red socks. 'They work very well, and has such natural colours. I may have to start putting socks on my Christmas list.'

Harry nodded and tried to restrain his emotions from showing.

'Well, your friends must be waiting for you,' announced Dumbledore, 'off you trot!'

Harry had no sooner passed the doors from the Great Hall before he was assaulted by clothing, his own.

'Come on, Harry, don't dawdle!' called Hermione, letting him know whom to blame for his current wrestling match.

Harry eventually managed to get himself untangled and slipped into his winter clothing, making sure his tail was wrapped securely around his waist so it wouldn't be trodden on in the mass of white that covered the land.

Firenze generously offered the playful young students to have their mock war in the very large courtyard that Dumbledore had let him build a home in. a hut not all that unlike Hagrid's was erected in a corner of the courtyard, and a path had been tramped down by hooves and feet, leading from the doors to the cabin.

The students automatically split up into two groups, boys versus girls, and piled most of the snow into two large mounds, and fortresses were made of it.

It was a brutal war, projectiles of crystallised water flying between the walls that had been erected to protect the beings on the other side. Each hit was signified by a dull and muffled thud in the snow, and anyone that got pelted ended up screaming in horror as the snow returned to it's liquid state, running coldly down various openings in their protective coverings. Each of these squeamish screams was celebrated by the opposite side of the battlefield, rendering them momentarily defenceless so the other side would take advantage of the opportunity and pelt them again.

After nearly one hour, everyone were freezing, wet, and knew this fight couldn't last much longer. The girls took the initiative, by sending a wave of snowballs to distract the boys, while half of them crept up to the boy's protective wall which they collapsed it over the boys that were getting ready for the return volley.

Harry saw the wall of snow fall, and dove out of the way just in time to escape it. One or two of his students managed the same.

He had hardly regained his bearings when something ploughed into him, sending him tumbling into the knee deep snow, obscuring him nearly completely from view. He felt weight on top of him, and saw Hermione straddling his chest, pinning him down and laughing in a carefree manner. Not wanting to be beaten by a mere slip of a girl, he used his more advanced training to flip himself around so the positions were reversed. Hermione saw the fun in this, and the two started rolling about in the icy cold snow, laughing and purring in complete amusement as they forgot the world around them, all that mattered was to win the friendly wrestling match.

With a final growl, Harry pounced Hermione and pinned her firmly to the ground like she had tried to do to him. To assure she wasn't thinking of continuing the struggle, he growled and clamped his large mouth to her neck, not really applying any pressure, but letting her know she had lost.

Hermione stopped struggling under him quickly, and Harry released her, licking his chops out of instinct. His victory was cut short as he got a snowball slammed into the side of his face, compliments of a grinning Ginny.

Having spent a great deal of his energies today already, Harry settled for growling at the smirking redhead, his tail having unwrapped itself and was sweeping the snow behind him. It is never a good sign when a feline's tail is flicking back and forth, as that means they are annoyed and likely to attack, something that is not desirable when the feline in question is a large predator with magical abilities.

The chattering of Hermione's teeth made Harry realise she had been immobile in cold snow for several minutes.

He stood and offered his hand to the freezing Prefect. She was obviously much too tired and cold to play around, and accepted it without much of a fight.

'Let's have some warm chocolate!' exclaimed one of the younger Ravenclaws, the pitch of the voice was such that Harry had a difficult time deciding whether it was a boy or a girl, but found the idea very appealing.

Morning came calmly and serenely. The snow outside covered the land like a thick white blanket, and those few fowl species that could stand the cold twittered merrily in greeting of the new day.

There was but one thing that disrupted this idyllic Christmas scene; a very loud horn that blared from somewhere within Hogwarts.

This was the signal for the contestants of the Ice Sculpturing Competition to gather in the Great Hall for the speech and last minute details.

Harry, having been very tired as he threw himself onto his bed the previous night, had to dig his feline claws out of the ceiling, as in his shock at the sudden and loud noise, he had jumped and grabbed onto the most convenient thing, which happened to be the stone ceiling directly above his four poster bed. Luckily, none of his claws were damaged from digging their way into stone in a matter of tenths of a second, nor did the strain of the weight of three hundred pounds of flexible and graceful muscles damage the claws.

Just as he had gotten the last claw out, Hermione and Ginny entered the room to look for him, catching sight of something heavy dropping onto the bed. The two of them giggled in amusement at Harry's predicament until Harry growled from under the blankets that had jumped at his landing, and landed on him.

'Come on, they'll serve breakfast at the same time as the speech,' Hermione urged mirthfully. Ginny was given the honours of waking her brother, which resulted in another wet chase with loud cursing and screaming from a redhead badly in need of shaving the fuzz on his face. Hermione had to place a silencing spell on Ron to keep the young and impressionable first years from learning some very inappropriate words.

The turnout in the Great Hall was nearly complete, only those not at the school were missing. Harry was nervous, unsure about everything he knew about sculpting ice, unsure of his choice in motif, unsure in himself, and unsure about life in general.

Harry was pleased that Dobby or Winky seemed to have started recognising where he usually sat, and placed a higher concentration of meats he could eat around him. It made things less difficult for him. Hermione, Ginny and Ron, however, needed to ask their neighbouring students to pass them various foods.

'Welcome, all!' Dumbledore greeted as he stood from his seat. 'As you all know, today, after this speech as a matter of fact, the Ice Sculpturing Contest starts, and for those of you who did not bother to read your information booklet, which accompanied your envelope, I will read you the rules.

'Firstly, no magic is allowed to be used to transfigure your block of ice. It all has to be done by hand. Failure to follow this rule will lead to not only immediate disqualification, but a loss of twenty house points. The only magic allowed, is for summoning tools, rotating the block, or for reattaching ice that falls off unintentionally.

'Second, no other contestant is allowed in the chambers of other contestants. Groups are asked to remain inside with the rest until they too need to leave, so as not to encourage sloth. If a contestant willingly enters the chambers of another contestant, that contestant will be immediately disqualified and lose their hose twenty points.

'Thirdly, contestants are only allowed to enter and exit their chambers twice a day. The second time a contestant, or group, exits the chambers, it will lock the doors automatically, and not open until eight in the following morning.

'Fourth, and possibly one of the strictest ones, if any tampering with other contestants or their work is detected, and it will be, will lead to immediate disqualification and fifty points lost … Per individual.' At this, the normally cheerful headmaster leaned on his hands and stared sternly at all his students. The moment passed quickly, and the stern face turned cheerful again. 'Now that that is out of the way, away with you, you have until noon in six days! And remember, let your hearts guide you!'

Dumbledore stuck his wand into the air and fired out green sparks and a loud boom to signal the start of the contest.

Harry ripped open his envelope to look at the room number written on his key, before standing and walking sedately towards room number 106.

One would think that having spent six years at Hogwarts would have helped him find his way around, but Harry ended up passing the exact same suit of armour, and the exact same painting of a gargoyle playing checkers with a very bruised knight, seven times before he found his designated room. He cursed himself when he saw that he was a mere twenty feet from the Entrance Hall, and had spent the better part of an hour just finding the room.

Upon entering the room, Harry felt the cold of the air inside, and saw the mist before his face, clinging on to his whiskers and freezing into tiny icicles.

The room was nearly as large as the dormitory he currently resided in. along one wall was a long table full of various tools he would need to use. There were no windows into the room, and no visible source of light, yet the entire room was lit. in the middle of the floor, stood a block of ice larger than a car, perfectly smoothed surfaces, and each six surfaces were equal in size to the others. Not wanting the ice to melt, Harry closed the door behind him and stepped up to the giant block of ice.

The first thing he needed to do; was to mark out what needed to go, and what could stay.

He picked up an ice pick from the table and started carving the outline of one side of his subject onto the side he was on. It took some time to get it right, even if the lines were slightly squiggly.

Harry really wanted to correct his mistakes, but was not sure he was allowed to. Deciding to play it safe, he picked up the booklet and tried looking for loopholes in the rules. Hey look! A list of spells allowed to be used! The old coot really did go over these rules with a fine tooth comb.

Harry was relieved to find that he was allowed to magically etch the outline for his design into the block of ice as though it was made with laser and would not be chipped away until everything outside the marked line had gone. That would be useful.

With this new knowledge, Harry started hacking away ice from the corners of the block with a chisel. He would have used a saw of some sort, but his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and worked only with the chisel.

Harry would have been worried if it wasn't for the fact that it felt right. He was doing the right thing, even if he knew it to be dangerous.

Five hours later, Harry stepped out of his designated chamber, icicles hanging from around his maw, and his teeth chattering as he tried to beat the feeling back into his limbs. Now would be a good time for some hot chocolate.

He had only just dropped his chisel because he was too frozen to hold it firmly enough to chip away the ice from the block. Harry was slightly worried about how and why his hands were working on their own. He was certain that it was not outside influence, and he had checked the chisel for any magic before leaving the room.

As Harry entered the Great Hall, he spotted several more that had gotten his idea.

Hermione and Ginny were huddled together and warming their hands on the large mugs of steaming hot chocolate. They looked cold, but very excited about their day. Harry joined them based purely on their happy expressions, warming him as well as any beam of sunlight had. Although he really couldn't drink hot chocolate because of his feline palate, Harry forced it down, unwilling to give up the last shred of human feelings for a warm drink for this.

The ice in Harry's fur was thawing, and making Harry miserable with having to restrain his instincts to shake and lick himself clean. Hermione must have seen his dilemma, as she snaked her hand out from under her cloak and started scratching him behind his ears, successfully distracting Harry from his misery.

Though a few were startled by Harry's sudden purrs, none thought anything of it. Even Malfoy's taunts had ceased to be amusing any more, as Harry showed that he was clearly able to perform magic without the power of speech, that he was able to restrain himself to normal human norms, and word had gotten around about how heavy weights Harry was lifting each morning lately, and how well he was learning physical combat from solid illusions. Although no one but the DA knew about their training regime, and how they were done, they did get the point across to other students how well Harry could handle himself with and without a wand, so no one taunted him, nor were they afraid of him, unless he was in a less than social mood.

'How is your sculpture coming?' asked Ginny casually and sipped her mug.

No … speak … mmmm gooooooood! Harry wrote on his sign, leaning into the hand and purring loudly.

'Hermione,' Ginny warned, 'please halt the alternate torture so we can find out how he did.'

Not … telling … anyway … just … carry … on! Harry's sign declared.

Harry was so engrossed in the delightful sensation that he lost all control of his tail, which snaked around Hermione's scratching wrist.

'Harry, your tail is cold,' she commented idly and sipped from her mug with her free hand.

Warming … he purred and leaned further into the scratching hand.

'Harry …!' Hermione's voice took on a slight note of concern.

Hmm?

'HARRY!'

Thud.

Harry opened his eyes as the scratching stopped, only to see a glaring Hermione sitting in an undignified heap on the cold stone floor.

'Be more careful about how much you lean into those scratching you,' she warned mildly as she stood up and brushed herself off.

Sorry … Harry apologised and looked down at his plate, feeling bad that he had pushed his best friend out of her seat because she had such a gentle and ingenious hand that he lost control.

'There's nothing to be sorry about,' she cut in. 'You were distracted and didn't know what you were doing.'

Harry nodded dumbly, clearly not agreeing, but not trying to make a fuss about things. He started eating as soon as warm meat appeared in front of him, and did not notice Ron staggering in, clapping his arms to bring back circulation, and wearing a few bandages on his fingers.

Six days passed all too quickly for Harry's tastes.

On the first day, Harry had set his patterns on the block of ice and started to chip off a good portion of the frozen water, making a slanted lump. The second day, Harry had chipped away some more, not yet attaining a completely bas form of his sculpture. On the third day, Harry had gotten the basic shape of his sculpture, and now had to start working more gently and with greater care. On the fourth day, one could see the hooded figure of a human with folded wings holding something in its left arm, and supporting the right hand on something ramrod straight a couple of feet away from its body. On the fifth, Harry carved a face under the cowl of the hood, and made the fingers of each feminine hand clear as they held onto a wicked looking sword and a book. On the sixth and final day, Harry abandoned tools, and started smoothing out the skin of the woman he had sculpted, and making the cloth and feathers rough with his claws. Harry had just finished making a scratch in the ice that served as the curly locks of hair when a loud gong sounded, signalling the end of the competition.

Not wanting to break any of the rules, Harry halted his work, and started spelling around the sculpture, so as not to break the rule of tampering with the work after the bell. The spells were only to ensure that if it fell, it would not break, and that he could transport it without actually touching it.

Harry had not more than gotten his sculpture outside the door of his assigned chamber before he heard a startled gasp in front of it.

Thinking he had run someone over, Harry stormed around the sculpture, nearly losing control of it.

On the other side stood Charlotte Creevey, staring in awe at the hooded face.

'It looks exactly like her,' she whispered, leaning closer to confirm it.

What? asked Harry, not understanding what she meant.

'Your sculpture, it looks exactly like Ms Granger the Prefect,' she stated. 'You even managed to make her hair look real, and her skin looks like it should be soft. Oooh pretty wings. Hogwarts; a History, that's her favourite book, isn't it? And you even included it with her!'

Harry was shocked to say the least. He nearly shoved the little girl aside to have a look himself, only to discover that it was true. The book his angel was holding had the title; Hogwarts; a History etched into the cover. Her half lidded eyes looked like she was staring at something on the sword, and Harry managed to see, for the first time, that he had etched something onto the blade. "My Angel" it said. Harry suddenly felt a constriction around his heart, as though he was panicking, the sculpture looked so real, it only lacked to take on colour and move for the illusion to be reality. Harry found himself lost in the loving face he had carved himself but been too blind to actually see.

'Mr Potter, you'd better get going, or you'll be late!' Charlotte urged, tugging at his robes.

Harry was shaken from his trance, and slung his cloak over the sculpture to keep anyone else from seeing it completely before he was in the great courtyard where the judging would take place.

It was very cold in the courtyard, but Harry didn't care at the moment, as he was more concerned about the reception this sculpture would get. Not from Dumbledore, not from McGonagall, not from Ginny or Malfoy, not from Ron or the rest of the school. But the one he feared the response from was Hermione herself. In that brief moment he had been lost in his sculpture's gaze, he realised that he could not imagine himself looking into the face of another woman for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if she did not return the feeling that was bubbling under the surface, he'd gladly live the remainder of his days as a celibate bachelor if she agreed to remain his friend. Had he been more accustomed to feelings and emotions, he could have identified the one he felt for his bushy haired friend. But he knew that this would forever change their friendship, which way depended on Hermione and her reaction.

Harry carefully lowered his sculpture to the ground at the end of a long line of sculptures, making sure that the distance between his own and the next was at least three metres, as a safety precaution. He then gently removed the cloak, checking all over to see if anything was loosened by the gesture.

Seeing that it was still in one piece, Harry placed himself directly in the line of view of many of the other contestants, crossing his arms to look more menacing and draw the attention away from his work. Heck, it worked for Crabbe and Goyle, who appeared to have made a very large deflated Quaffle.

The teachers started their evaluations not five minutes later, and Harry became increasingly nervous, as Hermione's work was now being examined, and that would mean that once they had seen her "Proud Free House-Elf sculpture", she would be roaming the rest to have a look, which meant that he was about to be judged in a much more serious manner than he had suspected when he had unsuspectingly entered the contest.

Sooner than he had expected, he found Hermione slinking her way past him to inspect his work. Harry would have tried to stop her if it hadn't been for the teachers suddenly jumping to his work, obviously doing things in a random order. The many teachers of Hogwarts obscured Harry's view of Hermione and her reaction to having him carve a replica of her into ice, and the revealing title of his work.

Snape made it quite clear that he suspected some form of cheating in Harry's work, and did several intricate and difficult spells over the sculpture to try and prove it. The best he could do was to produce a slight pink glow from it that only lasted as second. He tried to pin that one on Harry as cheating, but Dumbledore intervened the impending disqualification by stating in a fairly amused tone; 'This is a labour of love, Severus … love works in mysterious ways, sometimes influencing more control over the body than the mind. No cheating has taken place for this marvellous piece of work.'

Harry was blushing heavily under his thick black fur, as he received the compliments of all his professors, except Snape, but was more anxious about seeing Hermione's reaction. However, when the teachers got out of the way, Hermione was no place to be seen.

This made Harry even more anxious, and he thought that she might have been deeply offended and run off.

He barely noticed that Ron had attempted to make a statue of Hermione as well, with less than successful results compared to Harry. The redheaded boy must have thought he could flatter his way into Hermione's good graces.

'May I have your attention!'

The sonorous enhanced voice of professor Dumbledore reverberated across the school grounds.

'As hard as the choice was,' he continued, 'we have come to a decision. It was nearly unanimous, but because of some dispute about the honesty of this contestant, this is not so. You may all give yourselves a round of applause, as we have so far not caught anyone cheating.'

Some scattered clapping was heard, but the tension was too much for all to participate.

'Yes, well done,' Dumbledore continued. 'Now, you may all transfigure your own sculpture into any material you choose, and bring it with you at the end of the year, but I am afraid that three of you will have to hold that transportation off until you have completed your educations here. In third place; Collin & Dennis Creevey for their statue; The Beast Who Was Man.'

Harry looked to see a crooked statue of himself being floated towards the centre. It was definitely Harry in his partially transformed state, he recognised several features from having looked in a mirror. The statue was partially hunched forward, as though it was preparing to attack something, and breathing heavily already. The brothers Creevey were both blushing as professor McGonagall transfigured their work into granite.

'Second; we have Ms Cho Chan for her excellent work; My Hero.'

Harry felt his blush increase as another, and better, statue of him floated towards the centre of the courtyard. This one was in a slightly more heroic pose, and was of his normal body. She had absolutely exaggerated somewhat on the muscle definition, and since when did he ever bite down on a rose as he smirked confidently into space? Cho followed it and gave Harry a very seductive wink as professor McGonagall transfigured her ice statue into glass. Harry realised that throughout all this year, Cho had been trying to get into his good graces like Ron was attempting to do with Hermione. And Harry had been too occupied with either his training, reading, or petting to notice anything. This made Harry realise just how smitten and blind to it he had been. An admittedly beautiful woman was nearly throwing herself at his feet, but all he could notice was for instance how Hermione seemed to be fertile again, or that she used a shampoo that smelt of apple and cinnamon.

'And in first place; Harry Potter for his sculpture; My Angel!'

There was a round of scattered applause, although a great part of the Slytherin contestants cried out that this was nepotism, that it was not possible for Harry to make something like that, and demanded that they do another evaluation with stronger spells to check it, and maybe blast it just in case. He had already been the subject of the ones that placed third and second, he was just not able to make something like that.

Harry listened to all the allegations and critiques as he followed his sculpture towards the centre where the teachers were waiting, there was still no sign of Hermione anywhere, and Harry feared the worst.

'What material would you like to make your sculpture, Mr Potter?' asked professor McGonagall.

Harry studied it for a moment before flicking his wand at it himself. From the exact centre of it, a light brown speck appeared, and slowly grew in size, spreading through the ice. The transparency of the ice soon gave way to the light brown colour of marble, even if the texture would never match because of the amount of work that had gone into making this thing realistic. The sword was in metal, the only thing not marble, and looked very sharp and real, a green jewel embedded in the hilt where the blade met it.

'A very fine example of transfiguration, Mr Potter, even if the reaction was slightly slow,' commented professor McGonagall as she inspected the finished transformation. 'But that is to be expected in your condition.' She poked the edge of the sword with her finger and drew it away with a cut. 'Very lifelike, but it is not recommended to mix metal with stone, they do not really mix, I suggest you make the entire thing either stone or metal, Mr Potter.'

Harry reluctantly nodded and flicked his wand once more, putting more of an effort into the spell. The stone quickly gave way to metal, and the entire sculpture gleamed in the bright light of the combined snow and unclouded sun. If one looked closely, one could see a slight colouration on the skin of the sculpture, and a golden gleam from the eyes under the hood.

'What material did you make it into?' asked professor Flitwick eagerly as he came over to examine the work himself. 'I do not think I have ever seen this before.'

An even blend of Mithril, platinum, gold, silver, bronze, diamond and titanium, but with a heavier concentration of gold and bronze for the skin, nearly pure gold for the eyes and nearly pure bronze for the hair, Harry wrote without even blinking, as his eyes were searching the crowds for Hermione.

'Well, if you do not wish to reveal it, that is fine, but don't make up things you know to be impossible to transfigure and conjure,' sighed professor McGonagall.

'Very well done, Harry,' congratulated Dumbledore grandly as he handed Harry the envelope he had been holding. 'Here is your prize, a gift certificate to Honeyduke's for one hundred galleons.'

Harry accepted the envelope, thinking that if things went as bad as he feared, he could get Dobby to pop down and get enough Butterbeer for him to either drown his sorrows. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to see him heartbroken.

'Now that this competition has finished, it is time for you all to head for the Great Hall, where a marvellous meal will be waiting.'

Harry followed the crowd as they brought the statues and sculptured inside, not really wanting to join the festivities when he was about to have his heart stomped on.

He had just stepped inside when his arm was grabbed and roughly pulled into a disused classroom. Harry reacted as his battle instincts had demanded and reversed the grab, bringing his assailant into a head-lock. It took him a second to realise that this was Hermione, and let go quickly, examining her for lasting damage.

'I'm fine, Harry, just startled,' she assured him as she rubbed her neck. 'I shouldn't have surprised you like that.'

Harry looked down at his feet, not really knowing what to say. Why did things have to become so complicated?

'Thank you,' she whispered shyly, shaking Harry from his introspect. What did she mean by thank you? 'You didn't have to make my face any prettier than it is, but I appreciate the gesture,' she continued.

I only crafted my sculpture as I see you, Harry corrected, knowing it to be true even if he hadn't realised it at the time he was working. There were no exaggerations in anything but your subservient posture in my sculpture, you would never bow to me, and never need to … I -

'There you are!'

Harry looked up and saw Ron enter the room, beaming slightly as his statue of a slightly disfigured Hermione floated behind him in granite.

'I've been looking all over for you, Hermione,' he continued, looking as though he didn't realise Harry was there.

Hermione wiped away tears that Harry hadn't noticed were there. Had he hurt her feelings by his actions? Harry thought. He silently cursed himself for his gift at making girls cry for the strangest reasons. Ron only saw Hermione crying, then he noticed Harry's angry expression and came to the obviously wrong conclusion.

'You hurt Hermione!' he yelled and lunged at Harry, his wand forgotten.

Harry was surprised by this turn of events, and Ron got in one lucky punch to the side of his face before he started defending himself. Ron ended up in a heap along the wall as Harry threw him over his shoulder. A perfectly executed judo toss.

Ron was not daunted by this, and lunged again, though he was bruised and sore from hitting a stone wall and then the floor. Hermione watched in stunned silence as Ron lunged at Harry again and again. And again and again, Harry flipped the redhead with minimal effort, even using his tail at one time. When Ron was so tired and bruised that he barely managed to get up, she came to her senses and ran between the two of them.

'STOP THIS!' she demanded.

Ron staggered to a stop in his slow march towards Harry. Harry was hardly even breathing hard, and only rubbed the side of his maw to get the sting out of the bruise that might start forming.

'WHAT POSSIBLE REASON CAN YOU HAVE TO ATTACK YOUR FRIEND, RONALD WEASLEY?'

'HE WAS HURTING YOU!' Harry cringed and covered his ears from the sharp sounds of another Ron and Hermione quarrel.

'Harry wouldn't hurt me,' Hermione coolly retorted.

'THEN WHY WERE YOU CRYING?'

'Because he made me happy,' stated Hermione in a tone that left no room for argument. 'He made a beautiful sculpture of me.'

'Oy, Potter, who gave you permission to flirt with my girl?' Ron demanded, not realising his slip.

'"YOUR GIRL"? SINCE WHEN HAVE I EVER BEEN YOUR GIRL?' Hermione screeched angrily.

'It's a law of human nature,' Ron lectured. 'In a triangle friendship similar to ours, it is unavoidable that feelings will run so high that the girl will end up with one of her male friends, and since you aren't likely to go out with … that,' here he paused and nodded his head in Harry's direction, 'there is only one logical choice.'

Harry who so far had been stunned, not only by the loud noises but also the topic of conversation, growled. How dare Ron refer to him as if he was something less than human? How dare Ron force this decision on Hermione when she was obviously distressed? How dare – wait, did she say she was happy with my sculpture? She was crying out of happiness? I swear, if I ever live to be a thousand, I'll never be able to figure out the workings of the female mind!

'You are absolutely right, Ron,' Hermione stated after a moment, as though she had just seen the light. 'There is only one logical choice.'

Harry closed his eyes after seeing Ron's confident smirk, he couldn't stand to see Hermione kiss someone else, let alone someone who had just attacked and insulted him. He heard Hermione's steps as she walked, and was infinitely surprised when he felt a pair of hands on his head just a fraction of a second before a pair of lips pressed against his maw, just below his nose. He was so shocked that he opened his eyes to see Hermione's own directly in front of his, hope and fear shining clearly. Tentatively, Harry reached around her with his arms, pulling her into a sort of hug, his tail automatically snaking its way around her waist when she got close enough and added to the firm embrace. There was no resistance or disgust in her eyes as this happened, only acceptance and joy before the eyes closed and she leaned into him with all her weight.

Although it was awkward kissing someone with a feline face, they remained attached at the lips for a long time, neither sensing time as they enjoyed the other's embrace and warmth.

When they ended the relatively innocent kiss, Ron was gone, as was his sculpture, and Harry's had been knocked over without a scratch on it. Harry was purring uncontrollably as he rested his chin on Hermione's head. This was better than a good scratching and a warm beam of sunlight combined.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione muttered.

Harry pulled back, why was she feeling sorry? Didn't she like it? He was sure he would have been a better kisser if he had possessed real lips at the time.

'I shouldn't have forced you into this,' she stated sullenly, 'you are under no obligations to continue this …'

Harry wouldn't hear of it and returned to hugging her. Maybe he could press some sense into her … didn't she realise he wanted to be with her?

'You don't have to sacrifice yourself for me, Harry, you can leave now,' she continued.

Harry growled warningly at her and held on. He was not going to let her get away, not after she had chosen, she was too selfless to care about her own wants. She wanted him to be with her, he could smell it on her, he could hear her heart beating in dread of him leaving, and he could feel her need for him to stay. If he let go of her, it would be a blow to her feelings from which she would not recover, and she would return to being that friendless bookworm that had entered Hogwarts and tried to make friends by impressing them with her vast knowledge. He was not about to let that happen, he would hold her until the ends of time if it meant she would be happy, and he would kill himself if that was what it took. It didn't matter, he would do anything to keep her happy.

Minutes passed in silence before Hermione burst into tears, sobbing into Harry's chest, thanking him for staying.

Harry held on to her, rocking slightly while purring mildly in happiness. He would take away her pains for as long as she wanted him to. He would comfort her for as long as she needed it. He would forever take care of her, if it meant his life. This he vowed.

Neither of them noticed the short pink glow that surrounded them, and merely carried on. A slight draft roused them from their moment, making them realise how chilly it was, and that they were hungry.

They had just stepped out of the room, one arm each around the other's waist – except for Harry who also had his tail wrapped around Hermione – when they were both stopped and surrounded by a golden ring on the ground.

Harry growled and looked up, to see one of the newest Weasley Wizarding Wheezes; the Matchmaker Mistletoe. Dumbledore had placed a few of them around the castle. They only activated when a couple of different genders were close enough and directly underneath the article, not to release the couple until they had kissed for a good five seconds. And now it had caught him with his best friend. Although he was unsure about what stage their relationship was at the moment, he assumed they were still friends, but he needed to make sure.

This makes us a couple, right? he asked, drawing a tentative smile on the other side of the sign.

'Yes, Harry, it does,' Hermione replied in a satisfied giggle before grabbing his ears and kissing him.

Harry's free arm wrapped around her waist again, and hugged her to him. Purring up a storm.

'Thank you, Harry,' Hermione sighed and gave him a quick peck on his nose before returning to the task of levitating her statue to follow them, Harry wordlessly did the same thing with his own, still purring from the wonderful feeling this moment was bringing him. He was certain that he could take on every single dementor in the world with the Patronus he could produce with this happy feeling.

When the two of them entered the Great Hall for dinner, word had already gotten out, although it was from Ron's perspective, about Harry and Hermione's newly formed relationship.

The more romantic ones, mainly the girls, sighed wistfully and called it a "Beauty and the Beast" love story. The jealous ones grumbled about the injustice of it all. The rest were dubious about how this could be possible, both physically and mentally. Humans and animals shouldn't mix, and at the moment, Harry was a great deal like an animal in appearance.

Neither of the two could care less as they sat in their regular seats, which were pushed closer together by an unseen force, not letting go of the other. Their sculptures floated into the Entrance Hall where they would be collected later, in Harry's case, after his NEWTs were done. During their meal, Harry could feel the amused and relieved look of his headmaster, and could swear he felt those eyes twinkle every now and again without looking up.