CHAPTER FOUR: ANIMAGI

SIR DRACO MALFOY

THE CAVE

I flew past the castle at quarter of midnight, noting the grey ribbon tied on the railing, then continued past it, on to the caves. I had left my home early, so that I could be there---in human form---before she saw me as a dragon. But I got a surprise when I reached the cave; a creature that looked like a human---but who had a twenty-foot wingspan, claws, and fangs. And that wasn't even to mention the fact that the human body and face had been turned a greyish-white, the body incredibly muscled. (A/N: Think of Dracula's brides in Van Helsing when they're in their vampire forms.) Surprised, I nearly turned around and went back home.

But the creature, minus the fangs, wings, claws and strange coloring, looked remarkably like Granger.

So I flew into the cave, dragon form and all, and watched her change back into Granger, her claws and fangs shrinking as her wings folded and melted seamlessly into her back. The last thing to return was her skin color, changing from ghastly pale to her normal complexion. Then she turned and saw a silver dragon, and she froze. I looked her right in the eye and changed back into myself, never breaking eye contact.

Once in my human form, I gave her a small smile and said, "Well, now we know something about one another. Are you a vampire?"

She just looked at me for a moment. "No," she replied. "I really only wanted to be able to sprout wings that would carry me without changing into an animal, and that form was the closest I could get. So I get the fangs and claws and light-up eyes with the wings. But it's worth it."

"Light-up eyes?" I asked.

"Yeah. When I'm in that form and I feel evil, happy, angry---just about anything extreme--my eyes turn this bright gold-yellow color. It's quite scary to watch, but I've gotten used to it," she replied. "So what about you? Why a dragon?"

"Well, besides the fact that they're my favorite animal in the world, my name means dragon in Latin," I replied.

"It's also the name of a star," she replied.

"What is?"

"Your name," she replied. "Draco."

"I didn't know that," I admitted. "That's pretty cool."

"So," she replied. "I imagine this is how you got that note onto my balcony, no?"

"Yes. Is there a reason you're in tall boots and trousers?"

"Yes," she replied shortly.

"And what would that be?" I asked. Catching the odd look from her I added, "I'm just curious, I'm not out to get you or anything." I laughed. "You look slightly pissed."

"I am," she replied, "Just not at you. The fact is, these are the only clothes I currently own that isn't a dress. I mean, my day clothes---what they call 'work clothes,' despite the fact that I'm not allowed to work---are just calico dresses. The kind of thing I'd consider fancy."

"You'd consider calico fancy?" I asked, surprised. My mother never wore anything except dresses in public; calico was the stuff she wore when she was washing dishes, mopping floors, cooking dinner---household stuff.

"I consider any kind of skirt or dress fancy," she admitted.

"Wow," I replied simply. "I think you're the first girl I've ever met who doesn't know the different types of dresses to wear in different occasions."

"I hate dresses," she muttered. "And skirts. Oh, and heels, of course, but only because I can't walk in them. I found out three days ago that when a dress has a big skirt, it's made by putting masses of netting stuff underneath. It makes it puffy. Did you know that?"

"It's called tulle," I replied, grinning at her baffled expression. "Courtesy of Pansy Parkinson, I know just about everything there is to know about dress styles. She took me dress shopping once when we were in Hogsmeade," I added when she looked at me funny. "And what was the look for?"

She laughed. "I'd tell you, but you'd probably hate me forever."

"And that would be a new thing because...?" I teased.

"That's true," she agreed. "I thought you were going to say, 'Courtesy of Pansy Parkinson, I know what's underneath dresses.' I was about to say, thanks, Malfoy, I definitely didn't need that information, thanks so very much."

"You think I'd go around bragging that I'd slept with Pansy Parkinson?" I asked incredulously.

"Like you wouldn't? Be serious."

"I wouldn't. I plan to stay a virgin until I graduate."

"You're a virgin?" Granger asked, and I could hear the surprise in her voice. What, did she think I was some kind of man-whore who was so horny he couldn't keep his pants zipped?

"Yes," I replied honestly. "Thanks so much for the implication, Granger."

She shrugged. "Sorry."

"Are you?" I asked, and when she gave me a sharp look I shrugged. "Sorry if it's a personal question, but I answered it for you and I figured you might award me the same honor."

"Yes, I am."

"Cool."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother commenting. "So what do you want to know about the ball?" she asked. "Now that we're both out here and talking about things we shouldn't really be talking about."

"Everything you know. What's wrong with talking about sex?"

"Well, 'everything I know' doesn't amount to much. But we're in the age where they believe in witches and devils and goblins and the like, and talking about sex or drugs is a definite no-no."

"So what information do you have for me?" he asked. "And there's no one around to hear us talking about sex."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Yeah, Malfoy, so since there's no one around, by all means talk about it at the top of your voice. You know, if I ever get mad at you, I could fly to your house and pretend you kidnapped me."

"You wouldn't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because you think I'm handsome," I mocked her, giving her a smile that dozens of girls at Hogwarts would have died to see.

Oddly, Granger wasn't affected. I'd have to try harder.

Instead, she laughed. "Yeah, handsome and a complete idiot when it comes to chat-up lines."

"Was that a chat-up line?"

She smiled. She had a nice smile. "I hope not. It was horrible."

"Well, I'll have to try harder."

She laughed again. "And why would you even bother trying to chat me up? In case you'd forgotten, my dear Toto, we're not exactly in Kansas anymore."

"Well," I replied, "No, but we are on earth, at least. And at the moment, we are the only witch and wizard on this planet. So I figure I might as well get a girlfriend while I'm here."

"How perfectly, disgustingly male of you," she answered, though without malice. "Though if you really wanted me as your girlfriend, you'd have tried back at Hogwarts. Everyone knows I spend my evenings in the library, Bozo. You want me to fall in love with you, you'll have to try a little harder than that."

"Like you wouldn't hex me as soon as I tried seducing you," I replied.

"Seducing me? That's going a bit far," she answered. "Why in God's name you'd sleep with me is questionable."

"Don't put yourself down, Granger," I replied. "I'd probably sleep with you if you and I were dating."

She rolled her eyes. "Right," she replied. "Am I supposed to be thankful? Oh, thanks so much, Malfoy, for telling me you'd be willing to sleep with me if we were dating. Thanks, I feel so loved and wanted. Now I feel so much better."

"Granger, I didn't mean it like that," I tried. "It might sound crude, but I was commenting on the fact that you have a really nice body, actually."

"Oh, right," she said, nodding. "Because of course you'd love my body. Considering you've seen so much of it and the fact that I've got bona fide mudblood," she spat the word, "blood in my veins. Oh yes, Malfoy. I'm sure you just love it."

"Calm down, Granger," I said quietly. "I must ask you to remember that I am a member of the Order now, and so am on your side."

She stared at me, then sank to the floor. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I have no right to hate you anymore."

I went to her side, though I didn't dare touch her. "No, Granger," I said, "You hate me all you want, if it makes you feel better. I deserve it, really," I added, knowing it was true.

She looked up at me sharply. "No, you don't. You don't deserve it anymore. You did before, let's admit it, but by joining the Order, I consider you---well, pardoned, for everything you've done in the past. That alone was such a dangerous leap of faith...I just think you ought to be forgiven for all the little things in recognition of that."

I stared at her, looked right into her eyes. "If I wasn't afraid you'd take it the wrong way, I'd kiss you right now," I said softly. "That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me. Thank you."

She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then stood. "Well," she said quietly, sitting down on a rock near the back of the cave. "What do you want to know about the ball?"

I went and sat near her. "Well, for starters, am I even invited?" I asked.

"Why, do you have a crush on a Princess, Malfoy?" she teased, joking.

I regarded her carefully. "Maybe," I replied evasively.

"Annamaria or Elizabeth?" she asked, grinning.

I looked away. "Am I invited or not?"

"Yes," she replied.

I looked up, smiling. "How do you know?"

"Because Annamaria, Elizabeth and I decide who gets invited and who doesn't."

"How are you supposed to do that? You can't possibly remember all those names, Granger. I know you're smart, but no one's that smart," I declared.

"No, no. We each carry a dance-book---"

"A what?"

She smiled. "You know how, in the olden days, women who went to balls carried a tiny little book with them?"

"No," I answered, just to be difficult. But she continued anyway.

"Well, they did," she informed me. "And if they were dancing with someone, and another guy came up and asked them to dance, they'd promise them the next dance. And they'd write his name in their dance-book. When the song was over, they went and found the man whose name was next in their dance-book. They did it because they'd have six or seven dances lined up in the space of one dance."

"Okay," I replied. I was still puzzled, but I held my tongue.

"Well, my sisters and I each carried one of those at the Masquerade, and anyone who we enjoyed dancing with, we write the name of the person down. If their name is in any one of our dance-books, they're invited to the next ball."

"Cool," I said. "Just out of curiosity, Princess, whose dance book was I in?"

"Mine," she answered. "Though I think Annamaria wrote you down too."

"Not Elizabeth?"

"I don't think so," she replied.

"Why did you write me down?" I asked.

She shrugged. "A lot of reasons. For one thing, like I said, you can't possibly be the Draco Malfoy I thought you were if you defied both your father and Voldemort---", I flinched at that, "---and joined the Order. I thought I'd give you a second chance---you know, a chance to not be the asshole I thought you were. For another, I figured if we're stuck here together, we might as well have a truce at least, maybe even get to be friends, and how was I supposed to suggest either unless I saw you again?"

"Well, if we're stuck here and we never see each other, then there's no point in calling a truce anyway, is there?" I asked.

"Not really, but I thought it would be nice to see each other every now and again," she admitted. "After all, we're the only witch and wizard here, the only ones from the future. We could become friends, don't you think? You can't tell me all these customs and 'fancy' speech don't confuse you every once in a while."

"Yeah," I admitted. "It's a little weird, being a knight. And you being a princess and everything."

"You're telling me," she agreed.

"How did you know what to do on stage the other day? How to talk and all?"

She grinned. "A lot of guessing and a bit of copying, actually. I had no idea what I was doing, but whatever it was I did, I'm guessing it was right, because no one died of shock or anything."

I laughed. "I don't know," I replied. "There were a lot of guys there who almost did."

"Uh-oh," she answered, worried. "Why?"

"The expectations were really high. The real thing was far more than anyone expected."

"Expectations for what?" she asked, bewildered.

"The Princess' beauty," I replied, grinning.

"Personally, I think Annamaria is prettier than Elizabeth, but it's close," she decided. "They're both very pretty."

"And where do you fall on the 'pretty' scale?" I asked.

She gave me a surprised look and laughed. "Are you kidding? Next to them, I'm not even on the 'pretty' scale."

"Are you kidding?" I replied. "Half the guys in that room would have been willing to chop off their arms and legs, kill their first-born child, and drown their horses if they got to dance with you first."

She laughed gently. "Of course," she replied. "Whoever marries me gets to be king. Why wouldn't they be willing to drown their horses in exchange for the rule of France?"

"We're in France?" I asked.

"I think so. There were some people in the crowd speaking French, and about ninety-eight percent of the last names of the people I danced with were French: Messier, Bordeaux, Tessierre, Terrill, Douvent, all kinds of things. Nearly all the last names were French, and a good half of the first names, too."

"Well. Good to know what country we're in," I replied.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Where's your house?" she asked. "I'm just curious. I haven't seen any houses yet. In fact," she added thoughtfully, "I've only been out of the castle a few times, and I've never even seen the gardens."

"Ah, a true Princess," I said blandly. "Too lazy to explore her own yard."

She swatted me for that. "Just for that, you're not invited to the ball."

"You said Annamaria wrote my name down too."

"I'll tell her you grabbed my ass when you were leaving. She'll cross you out, trust me."

"No fair," I replied.

"It is too fair. I have to choose a husband. It's my ball, not yours. And my father's the king. He'd have you beheaded if you actually had grabbed my ass."

"Well, I didn't, so I can keep my head, thanks."

"Maybe I'll accuse you anyway," she replied, her eyes shining prettily as she teased me.

"Ooh, that's cold," I teased back. "A cold-hearted, cold-blooded killer, you are, Princess."

She grimaced. "Don't call me Princess."

"How come?" I asked. "You can call me 'Sir Draco'."

"I'm not a princess, Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger, school know-it-all, grade-A bookworm."

"Well, in this time period, you're a Princess," I replied seriously. "And I'm going to award you with the title. If you've got a title, that's what people refer to you as. It's common courtesy."

"But I don't want you to award me with the title," she replied. "And I'm sorry---I'd use yours, but I can never remember to. You're still Malfoy to me."

"You don't want me to call you Princess?" I asked. When she shook her head vehemently, I shrugged. "All the more reason to do you the favor of using it," I decided.

"I hate you," she replied easily, but without malice.

"I hate you too, Princess," I replied, grinning widely at her. In response, she glared at me. I just shrugged and, just to annoy her, started whistling, thinking over what she'd said. She went silent as well, and we both just sat, looking out the cave entrance.

"Do you have a crush on a Princess, Malfoy?"

"Maybe."

"Annamaria or Elizabeth?"

"Half the guys in that room would have been willing to chop off their arms and legs, kill their first-born child, and drown their horses if they got to dance with you first."

"Whoever marries me gets to be king. Why wouldn't they be willing to drown their horses in exchange for the rule of France?"

"And where do you fall on the 'pretty' scale?"

"Are you kidding? Next to them, I'm not even on the 'pretty' scale."

"I'm not a princess, Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger, school know-it-all, grade-A bookworm."

This girl, far from being someone I hated, now completely amazed me. She had absolutely no perception of herself whatsoever; all her descriptions of herself were things that I had said to her in years past, mocking her.

Yet she said it as if it were fact, and not like she was trying to make me feel bad. Something she knew was a cruel taunt, but something she'd long ago accepted as the general opinion of herself. And she didn't care.

She assumed everyone thought she was an ugly, nosy, bossy bookworm with nothing better to do with her time than homework, and she didn't care.

PRINCESS MYA GRANGER

THE CAVE

When I finally broke the silence with a, "Well," it was to find Malfoy staring at me in complete wonder.

"Do me a favor," I said, startling him out of his thoughts. His eyes focused on my face.

"Sure."

"Don't ever, ever look at me with that expression on your face again."

"What expression?"

"I don't know what to call it, but I've seen Harry and Ron and half the other boys in Gryffindor do the same one. It's the face they do whenever they see a pretty girl, and it completely and utterly freaks me out when anyone looks at me that way."

"How do you know I didn't see a pretty girl?"

I sighed. "Don't play with me, Malfoy."

"Hey, hey, hey," he objected. "You wanted a truce, right?"

"I think we've pretty much established one if we've danced together and talk to each other and we're not killing each other yet, but yes. What about it?" I asked, nearly sighing again.

"Don't you think a truce should start with calling each other by our first names?" he suggested.

"What, you want me to call you Draco? Fine."

"Say that again."

"Say what again?" I asked warily.

"Say 'Draco' again," he ordered.

"Draco," I repeated obediently.

"Thank you," he said, apparently satisfied. I shrugged and let it go. I decided I really didn't need or want to know.

"Well, Princess---"

"Hey, no fair. I said your first name, you can say mine," I objected.

"Fine, Mya. Anyway, would you like to go for a walk? I know you haven't been in the castle gardens yet---they're really nice."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah," he replied, smiling almost shyly at me.

"I'd like that," I decided, and he led me over to the cave entrance and held out his arm to me. Laughing a little, I took it, and he gave me a tour of the gardens of my own home.

It was really nice out; there was a full moon out, so the grounds were well-lit. We talked as we toured the gardens, about everything.

"When do you think we'll be able to go back to our own time?" I asked.

He grinned. "I don't really want to."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"I'd like to stay here, in this time," he replied honestly. "I like it here."

"Well, I do too, Draco, but what about your friends and family? Wouldn't you miss them?"

He laughed. "Considering that anyone at Hogwarts worth being friends with hates my guts and my father wants to kill me? I really don't think I'd miss them, no."

"Why do they hate your guts?"

"Because I was cruel to them at some point, I should imagine."

"Well, that was stupid of you," I decided. "Why'd you do that if you wanted to be friends with them?"

"Because at the time, I was going through a phase where I wanted to be a little carbon-copy of Lucius. So I was cruel to everyone, assumed the Dark Lord was the greatest thing going, made friends with people from DE families, and made my daddy happy," Draco replied, bitterness flooding his last words.

"DE families? What are those?"

"Oh---you see that? That's another thing I got from my father. The terminology they use. DE stands for Death Eater. And I've never called the Dark Lord by his name, either. Dumbledore tells me I should, but I just haven't gotten up the courage yet."

I stopped walking, pulled Draco around to face me. I got right up in his face and said, "Voldemort." He flinched. "Say it," I ordered. "Right now."

"No, Mya. Leave it alone."

"Say it, Draco. There's no one around to hear you. And in this time, five million people could hear you and it wouldn't make the slightest difference. Say it. You tell me you're afraid of Voldemort. Do you want that fear to go away?" I demanded.

"Of course I do," he replied.

"Then say it, goddamn you. Say it. Voldemort. It's not a hard word, Draco. Say it."

"Kiss me."

SIR DRACO MALFOY

GARDEN OF KING CHARLES

I could tell I'd taken her by surprise. She stared at me as if she'd never seen me in her life and didn't answer for a long time. When she finally did, all that came out was, "What?"

"Kiss me," I repeated. "Kiss me and I'll say it."

"Draco Malfoy," she replied sternly. "Do not play with me. I'm serious. Say it, right now."

"I'll say his name if you'll kiss me first."

"Mal---Draco, we both know you don't really want me to kiss you. Ha ha ha, very funny joke. Now stop trying to get out of it. I will hear you say 'Voldemort' before the night is over."

"And you'll kiss me before the night is over," I replied, grinning broadly. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and continued walking. I stepped forward and put her arm through mine again, surprising her, but she didn't say anything as we walked along together.

"Malfoy---"

"Draco," I corrected her.

"No," she disagreed. "It's 'Malfoy' until you say it. But---I think Dumbledore did something to us when we left. We hated each other, couldn't stand to be in the same room, and know we're laughing and talking and dancing and...being friendly? I don't think so. He messed with our heads."

"I thought Dumbledore was Mr.-Do-Good," I replied dryly.

"Do not mock Albus Dumbledore," she replied fiercely. "He's the greatest wizard alive, and he could kill you with the snap of his fingers."

"So could the Dark Lord," I pointed out, just to bug her.

"Yeah, and look who's running from who," she sneered, waving that away with a hand. "Have you ever seen Dumbledore fight? You've never seen anything scarier."

"I wouldn't count on that, Hermione," I said under my breath. Then, realizing what I'd said, I closed my mouth, lifted my chin and squared my shoulders.

"And now your defenses are back up," she said quietly.

"Defenses?" I asked.

"Don't you play dumb," she ordered. "You know exactly what I mean. Everyone has them; but everyone's are different. We both know that your snobby, 'I'm in Slytherin, I'm a pureblood and a Malfoy' attitude---all the smirking and cruel jokes and put-downs---it's all an act. Those are your defenses---and if anyone gets past them, you wound them in the only way you know how---with your words. Which you're quite good at," I admitted. "You come up with insults for every situation; sometimes you remind me of Snape."

"I should think so; he raised me."

"What?"

"Yes, Granger. Snape-the-bastard does have a life outside Hogwarts and work for the Order. Yes, he's more my father than Lucius ever was."

"Oh," she said, sounding small. When I looked at her, I was surprised to find eyes still filled with sympathy. I looked away, not wanting to see it. I hated it when people pitied me.

"Don't feel sorry for me," I said.

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Because I can't stand pity. I hate it."

"So you make everyone else hate you. So they can't get close enough to pity you." She sighed. "One hell of a defense system, I must admit."

"Well, I wouldn't be talking, Miss I've-got-to-go-to-the-library."

She flushed. "What's wrong with going to the library?"

"Nothing," I answered. "But it's also how you defend yourself."

She released my arm. "You think I'm a coward," she stated softly, clearly not as an accusation, but a statement of fact.

"No," I contradicted. "Why would I think that?"

"You think my defenses are more run-and-hide than stand-up-and-fight, don't you?" she asked, her eyes down.

"No," I answered. Without quite knowing or caring why, I reached out and cupped her chin, gently turning her face back up towards mine. "I just think you defend yourself against things a lot better and a lot more often than people think."

She smiled gently. "Thank you," she replied. "I really appreciate that."

"You're very welcome," I replied, smiling. I looped my arm through hers again---I felt this undeniable need to be touching her---and we continued walking for awhile in silence. Finally Hermione spoke.

"Well, Mal---Draco," she said, catching herself before she called me Malfoy, "this has been a lot of fun, but I think I'd better get back inside before anyone notices I'm gone."

"All right, Princess," I replied, grinning when she glared at me. "Will you meet me again tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she agreed.

"Ten thirty by the bench in the center of the garden?"

"I'll be there."

"All right, then, Mya. I'll see you tomorrow. Until then," he said, "enjoy yourself."

"I will. Goodnight, Sir Draco."

"Goodnight, Princess," I replied evilly. She glared at me, but there was a smile on her face---a face that was changing white.

Her transformation was quite pretty, really; her skin paled to the color of the moon as her three-inch claws sprouted from her fingertips, and her wings unfurled from her back. She smiled at me, and I watched as her canines stretched into inchlong fangs.

"Your eyes aren't lighting up," I told her.

Make me angry, then, she replied, but he voice was in my head and her lips weren't moving. The voice I heard was hers, but it also held a dangerous edge.

"Telepathy? Are you serious?" I asked warily.

Yeah, her voice replied in my mind. Cool, huh?

"Very. You sound dangerous."

And I don't normally? Thanks a lot, she replied, smiling and showing her fangs again

"You? You're an innocent, naive Gryffindor. What could possibly make you dangerous?"

I watched as her eyes suddenly glowed gold, and she looked like she wanted to eat me. "Whoa," I said, taking a step back. "You look hungry."

Starving, she replied, then laughed---and her laughter, too, was in my head---when I looked panicky. No, I'm only joking. But I'd better go.

"Okay. Goodbye, then," I replied, and she nodded. She spread her wings and flew off, up to the castle and onto her balcony. Once on the balcony, I watched as she assumed her human form and waved to me before going inside.

"Until next time," I said to no one.