A Tiny Gift
"McGonagall wants you to what?" Ron cried, his expression of utter repugnance.
Harry's face mimicked Ron's uncannily. "No. No no no." He said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Not gonna happen. Go right to McGonagall and tell her you can't do it."
Hermione was shocked; she had expected Harry and Ron to be thrilled at such incredible news! How many other students had been asked to do such an immense task assigned by the Headmaster himself? Not many, that was for sure. Hermione felt honored beyond belief. So why were Harry and Ron not as excited as she was?
"What do you mean 'tell her I can't do it'?" Hermione asked, her enormous grin fading away instantly. "Harry, I don't think you quite understand. Dumbledore and McGonagall want me to go all the way to Serenity to retrieve a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Me! Of all people!"
"Yeah, because you being Head Girl has nothing to do with it." Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione shot him a livid look.
"It's not just you." Harry replied. "It's Malfoy as well. Do you really think that it's a smart idea going off on some overnight adventure with Malfoy? He'll probably push you off a cliff into the sea and claim it was an accident."
"Oh I'm not worried about Malfoy." Hermione said carelessly. "I can handle him."
"No, you can't." Ron butted in.
Hermione's expression switched from disbelief to insult. "Excuse me? I can't? I don't think I need to inform you that I'm much more magically advanced than either one of you-"
"Keep your voice down!" Harry hissed as he became aware of a couple of third-year girls eavesdropping nearby; the Gryffindor common room certainly wasn't the best place to hold a private conversation.
"Harry's better than you at Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Ron interrupted, causing Hermione to throw him another deadly glare. "And that's what you'd need to deal with Malfoy. Come on, Hermione! He comes from an entire line of purebloods with a hate for muggleborns! You don't think he'll curse you at any chance he gets?"
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "I already told you, I can handle Malfoy! He's nothing without his father or his stupid friends backing him up."
Harry shook his head. "Well, I don't agree with it. But of course, it's up to you, Hermione. Just don't blame us when you come home regretting ever accepting the assignment."
Ron nodded to show that he agreed with Harry's last statement.
"Whatever." Hermione said, getting up from where she was sitting near the warm, blazing fireplace. "Thanks so much for your support, you guys."
Harry and Ron stared at her as she stormed off to the girls' dormitory, obviously livid with the both of them.
"She's just being stubborn!" Ron exclaimed, slamming his Potions textbook shut. "Malfoy's a rotten egg! I wouldn't trust him as far as I can throw him."
"True." Harry agreed wearily. "But Hermione's right; she is a brilliant witch. If any of us can handle that prat, it's her."
Ron sighed, obviously still resentful towards Hermione's decision. "Yeah, sure. Let's get this Potions essay done, before Snape sets a months detention on us."
Harry laughed as he and Ron got back to work, both pushing Hermione out of their minds.
Hermione, however, could not brush aside Harry and Ron's warning. She lay awake in bed, fully clothed, contemplating the days events. Malfoy was no problem for her; there was no need to worry. Or was there? She could not help but remember the deadly glare that Malfoy had given her outside of McGonagall's office. It was much different than the typical smirk that his handsome face usually held. His grey eyes had been cold and aggressive as though he were going to attack her at any moment. Perhaps Harry and Ron were right; maybe it wasn't a good idea to go away with Malfoy.
No, Hermione thought, disagreeing with logic. Malfoy is harmless. He's a jerk, but he's not a killer. He's not like his father.
Satisfied with her conclusion, Hermione rolled over in her warm, comfortable bed and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
……………………………
Saturday morning came quickly, much to Hermione's dismay. As excited as she was and as much as she told herself that she trusted Malfoy, there was still that tiny part inside of her that was exceptionally apprehensive about the trip. Pushing this out of her mind, she showed up at McGonagall's office at eleven o' clock Saturday morning with a broad smile on her beautiful face. Surprisingly, Malfoy was already there, looking thoroughly miserable as he sat atop his suitcase.
If he doesn't want to go then he shouldn't be here, Hermione thought, shooting him a dirty look. And still, the mystery as to why he suddenly changed his mind remained unanswered. Why did he change his mind? During the meeting with McGonagall, he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else but there, and when McGonagall mentioned Morris Everett and what she wanted them to do, he looked like he couldn't give a rat's tail about it. But then, out of nowhere, his approach suddenly changed and he was willing to do whatever McGonagall wanted him to do, without the chip on his shoulder. It was very odd, but Hermione was determined to get to the bottom of it. Hell, she had an entire weekend with him; surely, she could break him down until he finally confessed his true intentions. Yes, that was her goal for the weekend. Breaking down Malfoy.
"Well good morning Draco." Hermione greeted, the grin on her face widening.
Malfoy looked at her disbelievingly, as though shocked that she dared address him as an equal. He quickly exchanged his look of shock for the usual smirk. "Good morning, mudblood."
"Oh, I can assure you my blood is clean." Hermione replied cheerfully. "Too bad I can't say the same for nose. You've got a speck of dirt, and I advise that you clean it off before McGonagall gets here, otherwise she'll think you're not taking care of yourself and you're not fit to be Head Boy. We all know what a shame that would be."
"Why you insolate little-"
"Good morning Heads!" McGonagall exclaimed brightly as she entered her office dressed in emerald robes and a tall, pointed hat.
Malfoy closed his mouth immediately, though his eye seemed to twitch out of pure loathing towards Hermione. She, on the other hand, was proud of herself for having a comeback to Malfoy's rude jab at her. Serves him right, she thought proudly.
"Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore had other sudden engagements, so he was unable to be here with the gift for Mr Everett." McGonagall began. "However, he entrusted me with it and I assured him that I would make certain that it would safely get to your hands. Now, which of you shall I entrust it with?"
Hermione and Malfoy suddenly exchanged fierce, cutthroat glances; Hermione would not allow Malfoy to be in charge of it, nor would he allow her.
"I will!" Hermione spoke up immediately as she rose from her seat, straightening her back to show her determination and enthusiasm; Malfoy would not have been surprised had she saluted McGonagall at that point.
"I don't think you should trust Granger with it," Malfoy interrupted. "No, I think it would be better off to be in my hands."
"And how do you figure?" Hermione argued.
"Knowing Dumbledore, it'll be some exotic, brilliant magical device that's never been seen by any other witch or wizard. And, no offense," (He smirked), "But you think you're so clever. You'll probably steal the gift when I'm not looking for your own greedy, selfish needs."
Hermione dropped her jaw in indignation. "I would not! If anything, you would do that! You being a dirty, thieving Slytherin-"
"That is quite enough!" McGonagall exclaimed, looking very cross with the both of them. "If you must make this more difficult than necessary, then I must ask you both to transfigure a teacup into the animal of your choice. Whichever is a better transfiguration may be in charge of the gift."
Hermione and Malfoy glared at one another, both determined to outwit the other. They did not drop their fierce stares until McGonagall placed two teacups in front of them and took one step back.
"Whenever you are ready," She said, folding her arms and preparing to analyze their magical performances.
Hermione and Malfoy broke the glare and instead took to staring at their teacup, both equally concentrated on transfiguring it with their minds. They'd learned the previous year to perform spells without stating the incantation, but the new, unspoken method of magic was slightly more difficult than they were accustomed to.
Suddenly, just as Hermione was about to transfigure her teacup into a rather furry kitten, there was three light taps on the door to McGonagall's office, and without waiting for a reply, Professor Flitwick strolled inside and expressed a cheery hello to McGonagall and the Head Boy and Girl.
McGonagall hushed Flitwick and took him aside, obviously allowing Hermione and Malfoy to do their task with full concentration. Hermione paid no attention to Flitwick and McGonagall talking quietly in the corner of the room; instead, she took once more to staring at her teacup. A kitten, a furry, cute little kitten …
Just as Hermione thought the incantation to transfigure her teacup, Malfoy banged into her and not only broke her focus, but caused the spell to fly off in a different direction, striking a mirror before finally making contact with the teacup.
Malfoy immediately transfigured his teacup into a large, scaly snake; his serpent looked distinguishable, whereas Hermione's kitten had a furry, brown cup attached to its head.
"Well!" McGonagall cried, stunned by the results. Obviously, she had not seen Malfoy purposely knock into Hermione. "Not a good day, Miss Granger? I suppose Mr Malfoy is the victor. Excellent transfiguration, Draco."
Malfoy beamed; Hermione was probably the only one who could sense the fakeness coming from him. She wanted to strangle him. Just reach her arms out and close her fingers tightly around his long, pale neck –
"Lighten up, Granger." Malfoy grinned, pounding Hermione on her arm a little harder than necessary. "No one's good at everything. Perhaps Transfiguration just isn't your area of expertise."
Hermione was so infuriated that Malfoy could almost see the steam pouring from her ears. I got an O on my Transfiguration exam, Hermione thought to herself, scowling at Malfoy as though hoping he could read her thoughts. I'd like to know what you got on it, you underhanded, conniving, cheating, worthless little piece of –
"Here you go, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said, reaching for a small, dome-shaped object from a high cabinet with a cloth thrown overtop.
Malfoy looked at it, puzzled. "What is it?"
Hermione watched as McGonagall placed a hand over the cloth and pulled it away, revealing a tiny, golden cage confining a fiery baby phoenix.
"Oh!" Hermione and Flitwick cried, marveling the petite naked bird as it sang a peaceful, happy tune. Malfoy stared at it, looking revolted; Hermione assumed that he was not quite favorable towards cute, little animals.
"It's a phoenix," McGonagall explained gratuitously. "Clearly just a baby. Phoenix's do not die. Once they have grown old and weary, they explode into flames, only to be reborn from the ashes."
"That's not-"
"Dumbledore's phoenix?" McGonagall asked, interrupting Hermione. "No, it is not. This one did not have a home; Dumbledore believes that Mr Everett can provide it with one."
"Why is it so … ugly?" Malfoy asked, clearly still repulsed by its frail, naked appearance.
"Like I said, it is just a baby. Phoenix's eventually grow to be beautiful creatures; this one just hasn't reached its growth thus far. They are very useful creatures; Everett will be thrilled to receive one of his very own."
"And I have to hold on to it?" Malfoy asked. His face was still contorted as though he were looking at a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
"You won fair and square." McGonagall replied, smiling as she stuck her finger in the cage in an attempt to pat the phoenix; very un-McGonagall like.
"Granger? Wanna take it?" Malfoy asked, turning to Hermione and feigning coolness, although she could tell that he would have loved nothing more than to not be responsible for a diminutive, feeble bird.
"Oh no." Hermione replied, a huge smile on her face. "Professor McGonagall is quite right. You won fair and square, Malfoy. I wouldn't dream of taking your glory."
Malfoy snorted, but did not further his pleading. He did not want to be seen with the phoenix, but he was still a Malfoy; Malfoy's did not beg with mudbloods.
"One thing though, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall began. "Phoenix's do not like cages. Whilst on the journey, this little one's home will be your shoulder. You do not need to worry about it taking flight," (Malfoy snorted once more) "so just make sure that it remains safe until you arrive at Everett's home. Understood?"
Malfoy stared at the phoenix with disgust, but nodded to show his comprehension nonetheless. McGonagall opened the small door on the golden cage and allowed the naked little bird to fly freely; it did not take a second thought before it flapped its wings over to Malfoy and perched itself on top of his broad, muscular shoulders.
"No need to worry about Apparating, the phoenix will Apparate with you so long as it is on your shoulder." McGonagall notified; Malfoy glanced quizzically at her as though she had read his mind. "There are two Thestrals waiting for you outside of the castle doors; they will take you to Hogsmeade so you are able to Apparate. Have fun, Heads. Make your school proud."
Hermione smiled at McGonagall before turning and leaving her office with Malfoy, whose previously miserable mood had increased because of the slight trail of bird poop dribbling down his back.