"This might be the silliest thing you've ever done, Harry! And that's saying something." Hermione's voice was somewhat shrill in her panic, but the effect was rather ruined when she turned aside to let out a painfully loud sneeze.

Harry looked on in sympathy from where he was perched on his broom, hovering steadily outside the window to the third year girls' dorms. He could admit he probably looked a little ridiculous, but he'd had the idea during quidditch practice and honestly couldn't see what could go wrong. He was no less likely to fall from here than he was at any other moment on his broom, and well. He missed his friend.

"It's alright, Hermione. I don't even think there's a rule against it, s'long as I don't try and come in," he told her, reasonably. "Anyway, I haven't seen you in days, and notes aren't really the same." He looked studiously at the wall of the castle nearest him as he said this, but he could see Hermione's smile out of the corner of his eye and felt his face mirroring hers.

"Well, I suppose. I can't recall it ever being specifically forbidden." She gave him a considering look. Her eyes were slightly puffy and her voice sounded rather sore to his ears, but she seemed to have colour in her cheeks and her eyes were as alert as ever. It looked like she really would be fine by next week, he thought with relief.

"How have classes been?" she asked eagerly. "It's been horrid being stuck up here. Flitwick's charm has been immensely helpful, but he's stopped responding to my letters asking for additional reading, so it really feels as if I'm falling behind."

"Hermione!" Harry said, aghast. He couldn't help but let out a scandalised laugh. "You can't be writing letters to the professors bothering them about schoolwork." He felt fondness warring with exasperation – a common combination with Hermione – and leaned forward on his broom.

"Well," she began, a delicate blush beginning to bloom on her cheeks. "I wouldn't normally – that would be rude, and surely there are rules against it, else the Ravenclaws at least would be driving the Professors mad with out-of-hours letters, but, well, it's extenuating circumstances, surely!" she said in a rush.

Harry could feel his face splitting into a grin and laughed again. "Surely," he agreed. They shared a familiar smile.

"Classes have been fine," he told her after a moment. "Care was brilliant, like I said. Hagrid'll be a great teacher, I bet. He was really good with everyone, even the Slytherins." He couldn't help the pride in his voice.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I admit I was a little nervous – it's such a change for him, and, well, you know he can be a little careless – unintentionally! – when it comes to dangerous creatures – but I'm so glad it went well. Professor Hagrid!" She said with a disbelieving laugh.

He grinned back at her. "Divination was a bit of a sham, though. Trelawney keeps predicting my death," he told her, a little gloomy.

"What?!" she cried, sitting up. "Surely not – that's ridiculous! And from a teacher! I've heard people say Divination is a little flaky, but, well, I wanted to see for myself." She was looking very put-out at this news, and Harry couldn't help feeling a little mollified. Lavender kept casting him teary looks when they passed each other, and it was beginning to get on his nerves.

There were a few moments of companionable silence, and Harry took the time to survey the grounds. It was late now, and the nearby pitch and forest looked a little eerie in the dark. He could see shadows moving off in the distance, and realised with a jolt that the Dementors would be out in full tonight, sweeping the grounds. He shifted on his broom nervously.

"Hermione," he said after a moment, "what do you think of the Slytherins in our year? Apart from Malfoy's lot, I mean. The other ones."

Hermione only blinked at this non-sequitur. "Well," she started, slowly. "I mean, I suppose they can't all be bad. I can't say any of the others have done anything to me, personally. Greengrass sort of follows Parkinson around though, doesn't she? So, she's probably not very nice, if she's friends with her. The others, I'm not sure. I suppose they keep to themselves, mostly. Why do you ask?" She looked at him with open curiosity.

Harry looked back out to the grounds, thinking. Why did he care, really? So he had had that momentary… connection with Nott. Did it have to go anywhere else? He could just shrug it off and go back to life as normal, and never see the Slytherins outside of the odd class they shared. But there was something unpleasant about that thought. The way Nott had looked, when he realised Harry had seen his bruise; Bullstrode's suspicion, and the way she seemed to have shelved it, momentarily, to give him advice on Hermione's book; Davis' dreamy expression when she cooed at the horrible-looking Hippogriff; even Zabini, who he'd never even talked to – there was something about his cool expressions and yet how natural he looked in that odd little group. They were simply… interesting. And wasn't what he said to Astoria earlier true? You can't have too many friends.

He turned back to face Hermione. "I've just been thinking. We don't really know any of them, do we? I mean, Malfoy and that, they're pretty clearly bullies and bigots, but the others… I guess I'm just curious about them." He saw her considering expression, and added, "You know, it was Bullstrode who told me to bring you Necessary Numbers: Vol. 3. I bumped into her in the library and she said volume 2 was useless without it." He watched her expression morph into outright curiosity.

"Really?" she asked. She sat up – her bed was by the window, so she had been sitting bundled in blankets during their conversation – and reached across to her table to find the book. "Huh. I had just assumed you grabbed it by accident. Er – sorry." she said sheepishly, hearing his snort.

"That's definitely interesting," she continued slowly. "I suppose there can't be any harm in getting to know them. Just – be careful, will you, Harry?" Her face was so earnest that he simply nodded and told her he would.

They chatted a little aimlessly for a while longer, and Harry relaxed. It was nice just to be able to talk to her. If only Ron was here, it would be perfect. They were both beginning to get a little sleepy – rather more dangerous for Harry, hovering a hundred feet above the ground – when Harry noticed suddenly out of the corner of his eye a light flaring to life on the grounds below him. It looked like a Lumos, and from its height it could only be a teacher. With a flash of panic, Harry instinctively lurched forward on his broom, and his arm shot through the window into the dorm. Harry and Hermione froze, staring at his protruding limb with bewildered expressions. Slowly, Harry inched forward until his upper body was in the room fully. He turned to Hermione and saw his sudden, growing excitement reflected on her face.

"Well," he said, climbing properly into the room and landing quietly on the soft carpet. "That's good to know."

Harry saw his chance the next day. He had had his next Care class the day previously, but the Slytherins seemed to be wise to his intentions and had gone out of their way to avoid him. The lesson was theory-based, unfortunately, so Harry had had little opportunity to broach the group.

Not to be deterred now that he was set on this path, Harry had concocted a plan. It was a bit looser than he'd like – and, well, it mainly involved sitting near the table they had occupied in the library the other night and hoping they'd show up, but, well. It was a start.

His plan was immediately foiled when he showed up near their area of the library and saw that they were already there, quietly focused on their own work. Harry had meant to already be sitting nearby with his books out – a foolproof studious disguise – and when they showed up he could invent an excuse to wander over and study with them. Now, however, he felt his nerves begin to waver. Should he just – approach them? Would they laugh at him, or worse – ignore him? He was considering beating a hasty retreat when the choice was taken out of his hands.

"Harry!" A small voice cried from across the room.

"SHH!" Madam Pince hissed from somewhere in the stacks. Everyone flinched. Blinking, Harry looked towards the first voice and saw the tiny form of Astoria Greengrass waving wildly in his direction. She was sitting next to a vaguely bewildered looking boy and girl – god, they were tiny. Were first years normally this tiny? Feeling his face flush with the attention of everyone in the vicinity, Harry quickly jogged over to where the girl was sitting.

"Hey, Astoria," he said weakly as the three tiny faces looked up at him with somewhat gobsmacked expressions. Astoria motioned hurriedly for him to sit, and Harry found himself obeying without much thought.

"How come you never told me you were Harry Potter?" Astoria demanded in a slightly hurt voice. The other two were still looking stunned.

"Er, well. It didn't come up, did it? You never mentioned your surname, either," he said, rather defensively.

The girl thought this over for a moment before seeming to accept it. "That's true," she said simply, before turning to the other firsties. "This is Corwin Clearwater and Ruth McNess. We're doing our Transfiguration homework," she told him with a very unsubtle wink. Harry couldn't help but grin in response.

"Er, it's nice to meet you two." He racked his brains for something to say. "How're you enjoying Hogwarts so far?" he asked.

McNess seemed to blanche at being addressed, and Harry uncomfortably recognised the look in her eyes. Hopefully the shock of Harry Potter sitting at her table would wear off soon. Clearwater, on the other hand, seemed to suddenly be channelling Colin Creevey levels of excitement.

"It's completely brilliant!" the boy squeaked. He was slightly gangly and had a shock of auburn hair. It wasn't quite Weasley-level, but Harry nevertheless made a mental note to tell Ron later that a first year was trying to upstage him.

Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming from the small boy, who continued to stare at him rather gormlessly, so Harry awkwardly tried again.

"That's good. Er, what're your favourite subjects?"

The other girl seemed to finally overcome her shock. With a heavy sigh for such a tiny person, she gave a dramatic roll of her eyes and said, "Defence is alright, but the rest of the classes are so hard. And they keep setting us essays! Do they ever ease up?" She looked at him despairingly.

With difficulty, Harry stifled a laugh. He supposed he had been just as bad – and Merlin knew Ron was the same – but it was hard to remember how difficult the sudden onslaught of essays and homework had been for him when he had just started. Now classes were getting serious, and he had two more than last year to worry about. He managed to turn his expression into one he hoped was sympathetic.

"Honestly, not really. But you'll get used to it. And if you're already in the Library this early into term, you're probably setting yourself up for success, right?" That sounded suitably Hermione-like, he thought.

The girl didn't look very pleased with this, but gave him a solemn nod nonetheless. "I suppose," she muttered.

Another silence descended, this one distinctly more awkward.

"What about you, uh, Corwin?" Harry asked eventually.

The boy jumped at being addressed (Harry smothered a sigh) and looked up at him eagerly. "I like Defence too! Professor Lupin is really nice, and his class seems pretty fun. And Charms is so cool."

Harry was distinctly reminded of Neville at the boy's shy eagerness and felt himself softening towards him.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Er, need a hand with your homework?" Maybe he was channelling Hermione too much now, but all three looked up at him with suddenly hopeful expressions and he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Forty minutes later, Harry said his goodbyes to the first years and began wandering back the way he had come, slightly shellshocked. He thanked Merlin, not for the first time, that their questions had been relatively straightforward. From the way they were grousing Harry had expected hours of research, but mostly it seemed they hadn't yet worked out how to answer the questions the way the Professors wanted. Ruth, it transpired, was muggle-born. Harry had stifled a jolt as it occurred to him that he'd never heard of any muggle-born students being in Slytherin before – but there had to be a few, surely? Despite her complaints, the girl was quick to pick up on the material. It seemed she was just struggling – in an all too familiar way – with being thrown into a world of magic, without the years of experience most of her classmates possessed. Harry had been suddenly reminded that he wasn't a particularly good example when it came to academics. He had quickly devised a method of considering what Hermione would say, then editing it to be a bit less terrifying, and then passed that on to the firsties. It seemed to work alright.

The way they hung on his every word made Harry simultaneously warm and embarrassed. He'd never really considered helping the younger students with their homework, he realised with a sliver of guilt. Though, he reassured himself, he likely wasn't the best person to ask. He knew he was a thoroughly average student. Perhaps he could achieve more, if he tried, but he had gotten used as a child to doing only the minimum in school – his Aunt and Uncle would glare at him whenever Dudley reported that Harry had beat him in some test (which admittedly wasn't hard), and when he was little and more than anything wanted their approval, he'd gotten into the habit of aiming low. He supposed he'd never really thought about it seriously since.

Harry was broken from his musings by the sound of a throat clearing. He had quite accidentally brought himself near the table where Nott, Bullstrode, Davis and Zabini were still studying. Now, though, they were all watching him.

He gaped for a second, before reminding himself that this was the reason he had come to the Library in the first place. "Hello," he managed to say after a pause, "what're you all studying today?" He congratulated himself on sounding casual.

Bullstrode was watching him again with her shrewd eyes. "What were you doing over there with those first years?" she demanded. "It looked as if Greengrass knew you."

Harry was beginning to suspect they simply couldn't hear him when he asked questions, but decided to investigate more before taking it to Madame Pomfrey.

"Oh, Astoria?" He tried to keep his tone light. "We only met yesterday. I was helping them with their homework."

Bullstrode snorted. "You?" she asked, rather unkindly.

Harry tried not to look hurt, but could feel himself reddening.

"I mean," he said, "it was simple stuff. Just essay writing." He could tell he sounded defensive, and Bullstrode shot him another considering look.

Harry was quite suddenly fed up.

"Listen," he said, "I don't have an ulterior motive or anything. You don't have to be suspicious. I'm just being… friendly. What's wrong with that?" He knew he sounded a little petulant, but he couldn't help it. Merlin, they were so distrustful.

Bullstrode's eyebrows were raised now, and he could detect a hint of amusement. Flushing properly now, Harry muttered an angry, "Fine then," and slung his bag over his shoulder to leave.

He was only a few steps away when he heard his name.

"Potter." Nott's voice was quiet, but it sent a shock through Harry nonetheless. He felt himself turning without meaning to.

The other boy hadn't moved, but was looking at him with an inscrutable expression. The others, he noticed, were watching Nott carefully. "Why are you being friendly? Really, I mean. No more lies." He said it calmly, and Harry found himself walking slowly back to the group.

"Honestly…" he started with a sigh. "I wasn't lying. I guess I just figure… Why not, you know?" Judging by their expressions, they did not. He continued. "I just, we haven't actually talked before, have we? And we've been in classes together for over two years. I don't see why we shouldn't see if we get along or not. And, well." He knew if he wasn't already blushing he would be now, but he called on his Gryffindor bravery and forced it out. "You four seem pretty interesting. I'd like to get to know you, is all."

By the end he was mumbling and looking at the table as he waited for them to respond. God, please don't let them laugh, he thought with rising mortification.

The silence stretched, and Harry could feel himself getting more and more tense. Just as he was about to make an undignified bolt for the exit, Zabini addressed him for the first time.

"Why not, indeed," the other boy said with a slightly sardonic smile. He shared a long look with Davis, who was sitting next to him, and then snorted. Davis turned to him with a smile.

"That's a good point, Potter. I suppose we haven't spent any time together outside of class. Would you like to join us?" She indicated the empty seat at the head of the table. A choked off noise came from the side, and Harry turned to see Bullstrode shooting Davis and the now-smiling Zabini an incredulous look.

"Er," Harry said. With a mental shrug, he decided to just go for it before they changed their minds. "Sure!" He edged around the irate-looking Bullstrode and took the proffered seat. The table was rather small, he now noticed, feeling nervously the close presence of the others. Nott was also studying Davis with an unreadable face. Harry sent a weak smile at the girl, which she responded to with a slightly maniacal grin of her own. "Right," she said simply, apparently deciding to ignore the tension. "We tend to get our homework out of the way first, and then pick a subject to study together for a bit. We alternate the subjects based on each of our worst classes. Today it's History of Magic." She waved a hand at Bullstrode, who went red and glared back at her.

Harry mustered his patience and shot her a sympathetic smile. "I'm pants at History too. I can't help but doze off when Binns is droning on and on." He pulled a face.

Nott snorted, and cut his eyes over to Zabini, who was now frowning mulishly. "History is such a crucial subject," Zabini began, with an air of someone who had made this argument many times before. "It's a disgrace that they let Binns teach it. He's utterly obsessed with the Goblin wars and we never learn anything important!" He was scowling now, and Harry could see the other three exchanging what seemed to be fondly exasperated looks. It reminded him so utterly of Hermione that he found himself smiling at the other boy, who frowned suspiciously back at him. Harry attempted to straighten his face.

"I've never really thought about it like that," he admitted in his best diplomatic tone.

Zabini snorted. "Most wizards don't," he said dismissively. "They don't care for the past unless it suits them at the present."

This seemed a rather wise thing to say to Harry, who nodded hesitantly at the other boy. "So, is History your favourite, then?" he asked after a moment.

Zabini shrugged a little. "That, and Ancient Runes, though we've just started that."

"Wow, Hermione takes that. She said it's tough, which is something coming from her."

Zabini nodded. "Runes is notoriously difficult. Every so often the Board of Governors meet to query whether it should be saved as an elective for fifth year and up, but thankfully they've kept it as is." He spoke with a calm confidence, but Harry couldn't detect any bragging in his voice.

"Wow," he said. "I, uh, think I might've made a mistake picking Divination. Seems a bit of a waste of time compared to that, to be honest."

It was Bullstrode's turn to snort. "Divination is almost completely useless if you don't have an innate talent for it, and only some do," she told him.

"Oh," he said. No one had told him that. "Why do they offer it, then?" he asked, perplexed.

She shrugged a little. "You can still master the theory without having a gift for the subject, and I guess some people do find it interesting. There are some practical uses, I suppose," she conceded.

"I take Divination, too," Davis piped up. "This lot tried to talk me out of it, but I've always found the Prophetic arts interesting." Her voice was a little wistful as she spoke.

"Did Trelawney predict any deaths in your class?" he asked, wondering not for the first time if maybe he'd been singled out. He shared Divination with the Hufflepuffs, so he figured the Slytherins must be with the Ravenclaws. He couldn't imagine either group going in for that kind of thing.

"Deaths? No, unfortunately." Bullstrode's lips twitched at the vague disappointment in the other girl's voice. "But there was a dead pet predicted, and a few warnings of imminent betrayal." She sounded rather like she had enjoyed the forecast of misery, though Harry noticed her frowning a little at the dead pet.

"It's going to be dinner soon." Nott's quiet voice interrupted the chatter. The others looked to him as one, and Harry glanced up to find Nott's eyes flicking away from his face. "We'd better get started." The others nodded and straightened up in their seats.

"Now," Zabini began in an only slightly despondent voice, "the Goblin uprising of 1548…"

Harry picked up his quill.