Disclaimer: Not mine; anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: Hopefully, updates will be a little more consistent now, although that would mean at least an update to one story, not necessarily this story, on weekends, as I gave up the Internet during weekdays for Lent (you have absolutely noidea how much time I was spending on here...) and have more time to write as I'm not constantly reading updates.

For any of you that are interested, Out of Our Hands will probably be updated next, maybe even later today (as it's currently 12:12 AM here). For now, though, here is...

Fraternizing with the 'Enemy'

Chapter 3

"Hello," Jonathan called out cheerfully, albeit nervously, staring into the sea of black that was Slytherin house. "As Dumbledore so kindly bellowed, I'm Professor Granger, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. By all means, call me Jonathan if the situation doesn't call for formality. Your turn," he said, turning to Lance, who rolled his eyes.

"I'm Professor Collins. I will be attempting to teach you Potions, although past experience tells me not to expect too much." He ignored Jonathan's 'Love you, too,' and continued. "I do, however, expect a bit more from this house. Do not disappoint me."

"That's his way of saying he truly cares," Jonathan grinned. The Slytherins watched their heads of house with slight interest. One seemed like a Hufflepuff, or worse, a Gryffindor, while the other seemed to be Slytherin through and through. Now they just had to figure out which was which.

"I have a question, young men," a voice called from the back.

"Yes, Salazar? What can we do for you?" Jonathan called, knowing without even pausing to look that the portrait of the founder was the one talking.

"What, exactly, qualifies you to head my illustrious house?" Salazar questioned. "From what I've heard through Dumbledore, you in particular would be one of the last expected to volunteer to head Slytherin house, Professor…Granger."

"And what, exactly, are you looking for?" Jonathan asked, his shields rising, noticeably for anyone with even the slightest amount of training in either Legilimency or Occlumency.

"Proof," Salazar replied simply. "Proof that you are as powerful as you are. From what I have picked up from the headmaster, and no, he didn't tell me, his Occlumency shields just aren't what they should be around a master such as myself, you are powerful enough to have completely mastered wandless magic." Jonathan nodded, not liking where this conversation was most likely going, even if he couldn't say he actually blamed him much. If he were Salazar Slytherin, he wouldn't want someone from a notoriously Gryffindor family becoming head of house, either, without proof that they would do the house good. "However, I must admit, you're already different from what I expected."

"Thank you. I think," Jonathan replied before turning back to the confused students. Salazar would find what he was looking for, and there wasn't anything Jonathan could to do prove anything to him right now, anyway. "Anymore questions? No? Good night, then." With that, he and Lance turned and left the common room, leaving the students to wonder just what Salazar had found out that made him not trust the man. After all, even if he did seem slightly Hufflepuff-ish, he seemed fairly trustworthy.

Jonathan and Lance, meanwhile, were hurrying down the corridor towards their rooms.

"I can't believe that stupid portrait," Jonathan was fuming. Lance stopped and stared. "Okay, I can, but still! He's coming," he said suddenly, stopping to listen.

"How the hell can you tell that?" Lance snapped.

"He's swearing in Parseltongue. It apparently carries farther than human languages." Lance resumed staring. "Come on, if he's gonna insist on talking to me, it's not going to be out in the halls where anyone could hear."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"Are you actually telling me you're about to pass up a chance to talk to your favorite founder?" Jonathan asked, turning around, an innocent expression on his face, as they reached the door to his rooms. Lance rolled his eyes. "Oh good." Apparently seeing an answer in that gesture, Jonathan pushed open the door. He immediately bounded over to his bookshelf.

"You cannot tell me your still unpacking," Lance said, sinking down into one of the armchairs.

"Of course not! I'm trying to make my CD player work," Jonathan said indignantly.

"And why, exactly, do you insist on keeping that useless hunk of muggle metal?"

"Because magic has yet to compensate," Jonathan said offhandedly, examining the 'useless hunk of muggle metal' closely. "Kinda like lighting. What is an underage kid to do in the middle of July when it's too hot to light a fire?"

"Muggle born children would have electricity," Lance pointed out smoothly. "As, most likely, would half-bloods. The rest would be purebloods, most of which could call a house elf or get their manors to provide light."

"What a lame excuse," Jonathan grinned as he heard Salazar's hissing get decidedly louder. "What are the walls supposed to do? Glow? And disturbing those poor house elves for some light? Anyway, I believe we were discussing music, not lighting. What's your all-powerful solution there?"

Salazar cleared his throat, intending on startling at least one of the two. Neither even looked at him, however, as they were quite content to carry on their argument.

"Excuse me!" he finally interrupted, losing his patience and his temper rather quickly.

"If you wanted our attention, all you had to do was ask," Jonathan said innocently. "And honestly, if you want to sneak up on someone, don't swear in Parseltongue, it carries too far." Salazar, although completely shocked, managed to keep his mask in place.

"And just how did you know I was coming?" he asked. He would be fairly certain of the answer if it were anyone but a Potter. "Parseltongue is extremely hard to hear."

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it," Jonathan smirked.

"You're a Speaker as well, aren't you," Salazar said, staring intently. Jonathan nodded. The room was silent as Jonathan and Lance waited for Salazar's reaction. Well, mostly silent. At least there was no talking. Jonathan did, however, turn his attention back to his CD player.

"Hey! I figured it out!" he exclaimed into the silence roughly five minutes later.

"About time," Lance grumbled. "That stupid thing has occupied the majority of your free time for the past two years, and at least a part of it for the four years before that. Just what makes it work?"

"The reviving charm," Jonathan replied.

"Did you just start throwing random spells at it?"

"Not completely random. After all, I haven't used an Unforgivable, or any other torture spell. I didn't douse it in water or set it on fire. After you remove the spells that would have harmed it, there aren't too many left." Lance seemed unable to find an answer for this.

"How were you placed in Gryffindor?" Salazar asked, breaking his long silence.

"I asked the hat to place me there. Actually, I asked it to place me anywhere but Slytherin." This thread of conversation continued for a while before Jonathan stood, announcing that he was going to bed, but that Lance and Salazar were more than welcome to remain. The two nodded, barely noticing when he left the room.

The next morning, Jonathan came out of his room to find Lance asleep in the chair Jonathan had left him in, and Salazar snoring softly in a picture frame.

"Oh for the love of…," he muttered before calling a house elf. "Would you please bring me a cup of coffee. I'm afraid Professor Collins is going to need quite a bit of caffeine." The house elf nodded before popping out of sight, leaving Jonathan with the problem of waking Lance.

Shrugging, he quickly levitated Lance out of his chair until he hovered about twenty centimeters off the ground, when canceled the spell. Lance landed on his arse, waking with a startled yell.

"Just what time is it?" he complained as he stood. The house elf chose that moment to pop in with coffee, which Lance eagerly accepted.

"Time for breakfast. I suggest you either borrow robes or hurry to your rooms for your own." Lance nodded absently, absorbed in his caffeine. Jonathan sighed before summoning a set of his robes. His eyes widened as the hot pink and electric blue robes Hermione had given him as a gag came soaring towards him. Why had Dobby packed those? And why hadn't he taken them out? Eyeing Lance warily, he charmed them black as Lance took another long drink of coffee. He wordlessly handed over the robes when motioned to, hoping no one would cast a Finite anywhere near those robes. Magic performed on clothes from a magical store was unstable, and easily reversed. After all, they wouldn't want to go out of business when everyone charmed their clothes, now would they?

All too soon, in Jonathan's opinion, breakfast was over, and they were heading for their first classes. Glancing at his schedule, he noticed he had Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years for a double period.

"Hello," he said cheerfully as he entered the room, seeing that every single nervous first year was already there. "As Professor Dumbledore announced last night, I am Professor Granger, and I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Today, we will be learning the Disarming charm. Does anyone know the incantation for this charm?" Several hands shot into the air. "Yes?" he asked a nearby Ravenclaw.

"Expelliarmus," the boy answered promptly.

"Very good. Five points to Ravenclaw. Now, this charm does exactly what it sounds like…"

His classes continued smoothly until he got to the fourth hour of the day, the seventh year N.E.W.T. class. As many of them had just come from Lance's N.E.W.T. Potions class, he knew they'd be talking as they walked in. What he didn't expect was for Lance to come with them. In hot pink and electric blue robes.

"What happened?" Jonathan asked, going for innocent. After all, Lance had been extremely out of it when he had summoned the robes, so he most likely didn't remember. And someone could charm the robes in exactly the same pattern, right? After all, coincidences happened…right? Well, if they did, he had never heard of one.

"You know perfectly well what happened," Lance snapped, glaring murderously. Some of the students even shrank back from the glare.

"I have a guess," Jonathan admitted. Lance's glare went up a notch.

"And just why did you feel the need for me to wear these particular robes?"

"It wasn't those particular robes. I just kinda summoned some, since you were too involved in your caffeine to leave. Those were the ones that came. So, I charmed them black and prayed that no one could cast a Finite around you."

"Well we can all see how well that worked out."

"I'm sorry! Goodness, you'd think I'd conjured one, and that spell had come undone," Jonathan said, growing frustrated. "Don't you have a class to terrorize?" At that moment, the bell rang. Lance glared, but left, although his look clearly said that this wasn't over.

"What exactly did one of you try to prevent?" Jonathan asked, turning back to the class, knowing that most of them had been in the N.E.W.T. potions class the hour before. No one said anything, as he expected, but from the glares Remus was shooting James and Sirius, he had a fairly good idea. "It wouldn't happen to be that someone tried to prank him, and someone else tried to prevent it, would it? Because I kind of doubt that he didn't already know it was there; after all, there are many ways to know if someone cast a spell on your chair while you were talking to someone, isn't there Mr. Black?"

Sirius jumped. "Yes, sir," he answered slowly, wondering just how the professor had known he had cast one. Jonathan simply smirked at him.

"Now, for today's lesson, we'll be going over spells that will be most useful in a duel…"

The rest of the afternoon passed less eventfully than the morning had, and by dinner, Jonathan was quite certain something had to go wrong, as it had been too quiet for too long.

"Ah! Jonathan! Just the person I wanted to see. Or, rather, one of them," Dumbledore exclaimed as Jonathan took his seat at the staff table.

"And to what do I owe that honor?" Jonathan asked, internally groaning at the implications Dumbledore's statement could hold.

"I need to talk to you and Lance about starting a little dueling club," Dumbledore said, smiling as if he had just handed Jonathan all he had ever wanted.

"Do I have to?" Jonathan asked. Dumbledore's smile didn't falter.

"I do believe you and Lance are the best qualified for the position, and we really must teach these children how to defend themselves better with the war continuing to rage."

"Why do you even pretend to get my opinion on this? You already know what I'm going to say," Jonathan sighed, sinking back in his chair in defeat.

"Because it's so nice to have assumptions proved right," Dumbledore smiled. Or smirked. But since Albus Dumbledore, great Leader of the Light, could risk his reputation by smirking, it was a smile.

"Uh-huh, whatever," Jonathan sighed again, turning his attention to the table as food appeared in front of him.

"Just what did he want?" Lance asked, settling down next to him, no trace of pink or blue left on his robes, not like that would make any difference. Both men knew that, by now, just about everyone, from Gryffindor first years to Slytherin seventh years, knew that their Potions Professor had wore pink and blue robes at one point during the day.

"He has decided that Hogwarts needs a dueling club," Jonathan sighed yet once more.

"And you have to teach it?" Jonathan shook his head. "Then what's the matter?"

"We have to teach it."

Author's Note: How'd you like it? Tell me in a review! Thanks to all who have reviewed so far!

Would any of you possibly be interested in beta-ing this story? Or any of mine, for that matter? Not necessarily for grammer or spelling, although that would be greatly appreciated, but more to check if it flows, or if I explained something well enough. If you wouldn't mind doing that, please tell me in a review.