Draco Malfoy was studying advanced arithmancy in the library. This was not usual behavior for him, but Madam Pince did not like him very much and refused to let him take out more than five books at a rime. As the ones he had were not doing him much good, he concluded that surrounding himself with textbooks would work better. He'd just gone through his work for the sixteenth time and was contemplating suicide to avoid academic ruin when Hermione Granger appeared out of nowhere. "You forgot to take the derivative of x as it relates to theta," she said, glancing at his paper. "Now go away, this is my table." Draco growled out of reflex. "I can sit wherever I want, Mudblood." Wait, no, that wasn't right. "I mean, I do apologize; can we not live in harmony?" Granger was looking at him oddly. "Well?" he asked.

"What the fuck, Malfoy," she said.

He blinked. "Dear me. I wasn't aware you swore."

She was glowering now; there was no other word for it. "All right, if it offends you nowwhat the hell, Malfoy? You aren't acting like yourself."

"On the contrary, my dear girl; I haven't acted like myself since the day I was born."

She appeared to be contemplating this. As he hadn't had a chance to explain it to anyone yet, he assumed she was eagerly waiting for him to continue.

"Recently, I realized that I've been rather...two-dimensional for most of my life. The real me has been suppressed. I am now engaging in an experiment to bring it out. Today I am being courteous and vaguely avuncular. Also, I wish to pass my NEWTs in arithmancy." She was taking this remarkably calmly. Didn't she realize his personality was at stake?

"All right," she said at last. "So you're having an identity crisis. F I help you with arithmancy, will you let me have the table back?" Without waiting for a reply , she sat down and tugged his paper out of his grasp. "See, you just need to change this to terms of theta. Then you'll be left with the integral of secant squared theta d-theta. In other words, the tangent of theta. Re-substitute x, calculate the values, and the answer is one. See?"

"Um," he said. "No."

The next day he was a loveable prankster, and discovered that people only liked it if it was a Weasley. Hermione Granger gave him detention and implored him to keep his dignity next time. He decided to be goth-punk.

"Oh dear god," she said when she saw him. "What?" he asked innocently. "I am one with the night, and I rock out. My new name is...actually, Draco works quite well, or maybe Drako. Maybe this is my identity."

"Goth maybe, because black leather suits you, and you look undead with that skin anyway - you know it's true, so don't gloat or pout - but for Merlin's sake, my sake, and humanity's sake bleach your hair out."

He blinked, mildly offended. "I don't think it's that bad. Anyway, it will wash out."

"Good. Pink isn't your color. And that jacket would look better on Blaise Zabini. You don't have the shoulders for studs and spikes in such copious amounts."

"I'm Draco - I mean Drako - Malfoy. How dare you question my shoulders?"

"You're not very good at this, are you?"