A/N: Yes, I knew that everyone would expect Draco and Hermione to be paired for DADA. To tell the truth, that thought never even crossed my mind while I was writing it. I decided immediately to put Hermione with Blaise and Draco with Harry. For one thing, it would be extremely awkward to write a bunch of Draco/Hermione scenes in which they act as though their escapades in romance never happened, which is what I would have done. It's just better for my plan to have these partnerings. And yes, I am aware that is not a word.

Before I get started. I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed, if you've been following along as I update. I would also like to curse all those who didn't, but we can't have everything, can we?

On with Transition!Chapter#1.


The Negative Side


Willpower

As soon as Harry sat down beside him, Draco flashed him a smirk. Well, he thought, won't this be interesting. He wondered how long it would take for Parkinson to ask Potter to switch with her. She had just drawn Longbottom's name. Draco relished the irony of Pansy's situation. Neville Longbottom was an easy target, which is why most of the Slytherins picked on him. However, Pansy would never let her own reputation be tarnished by letting him get them a bad mark. She would help him in order to help himself.

Sitting there as Potter glared at him sporadically, Draco made a decision. He would not waste his time insulting the kid - especially when Draco was insulted first. A terrific plan was springing up in his mind, and if Blaise agreed, then they could both get out of the situation with their Death Eating fathers.

Thus, he and Blaise claimed a dark corner of the common room that very night. As the sons of the most prominent Death Eaters in Voldemort's inner circle, if they decided to conspire in dark corners together, no one would ask questions. Draco cast a spell around that corner to disinterest eavesdroppers. It was an incredibly useful tool, he had found.

"I think we're both having the same thought, Blaise, about this new development in DADA," he murmured.

"Well, I couldn't say what you're thinking. I personally got the feeling that it was the perfect opportunity to form a new alliance," Blaise responded.

"Precisely. If we can get them to trust us just enough to hear our idea, they'll have quite a hard time saying no to us."

"With their help, we might be able to get out."

"Interesting speculation, Blaise," said Draco sarcastically. "You do realize that we'll still be in the same predicament, only with more allies? We're going to need more help than a handful of teenagers."

"I hate to say it," Blaise began cautiously, "but maybe we should go to Dumbledore. He'd help us."

"We can't, not now. And if I can help it, I would rather not get the Headmaster involved until there is no other choice. Why don't you keep that in mind? I think the first thing we need to do is form more positive relationships with our partners. Once that happens, we'll have them meet us in the Room of Requirement."

"As always, we'll go with your plan," mocked Blaise. At Draco's look, he sighed. "Yeah, that's what we need to do, Draco. Though I think you'll have a harder time of it that I will."

"I can't disagree with you there," Draco said, muttering about how certain Potters are slightly uncooperative when it comes to things like cooperating. The two of them got up and retreated to their dorm rooms, Draco ignoring Pansy's call of "ooh, Draco, come sit with me!"

One of his greatest worries was that his parents would want him to marry Pansy Parkinson. He had learned from a reliable source - eavesdropping while she talked to Millicent and Sally Anne Perks - that the same situation was her fondest fantasy. That fact put him off her with even more fervor. She would be all right if she would just stop acting so sappy and pathetic whenever he was around. He had ceased to hope such a thing would ever happen, however, and so he could not stand her.

Now Hermione… she was a completely different story. She had always interested him, at the very least. She was far more intelligent than most of the students at the school, and the fact that she always despised him drew him to her. It was a bit perverse, he admitted, but he supposed it had something to do with his upbringing.

One event had changed the way he looked at her. They ran into each other when both were alone at Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was rather empty that day, and the people inside were too busy with their own lives to pay attention to a couple of teenagers. They had sat together in silence. Draco had insisted on paying for their drinks. When she told him she had to go, he had stood with her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her. Before she had a chance to say anything, he was gone.

Since that day, she had seemed different. For one thing, she was willing to forget about their past enmity and let him snog her passionately. That was the least of it, though. Every time he saw her, he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. He made sure to notice one amazing detail with every glance. One her eyes, two her smile, three the dimple in her right cheek, four the wrinkle in her forehead when she was concentrating hard on what to write next. He spent the end of sixth year memorizing her, and the summer before seventh year arranging meetings with her.

If he was anything, he was a Malfoy. As a Malfoy, he would never tell her what he felt about her. Especially when he wasn't quite sure himself. Instead he kissed her, and when he realized how attached to her he was becoming, he ended it. He missed her, sure, but he was a Malfoy, and would not let that change anything.

So on Friday morning, he woke up much earlier for breakfast than he ever thought he would. After all, he rarely ate breakfast anymore. He wasn't planning to eat anything, and he wasn't planning to tell Hermione anything. He just wanted to talk to her alone, and felt that it would be incredibly predictable to approach her in the library.

He was there before she was. For approximately three and a half minutes, he thought she would be accompanied by Potter and Weasley after all, and his chance would be gone. This fancy was dispelled when she walked into the Great Hall alone. Once she had settled herself, he got up from his seat and went to the Gryffindor table with purpose.

He put his right hand on the table and leaned over her shoulder. "All right," he said. "You got my attention."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

Draco gestured to her look. "You can't deny that you look utterly different."

She scoffed. "Well, this may come as a shock to you, Draco, but not everything is about you. Least of all my decision to change my appearance."

"So why did you do it, then?"

"That's really none of your business, Draco. We're not friends, and I don't trust you."

He was glad she had not decided to turn and look at him while they talked, because by some odd twist of nature, he lost control of his expression, and felt the anger showing on his face. He straightened just before hearing his surname spat hostilely from the entrance.

"Contain your boyfriend, Potter," he said, nodded toward Weasley with a sneer. "He's too willing to make a scene."

Harry ignored this remark, holding an arm out to keep Weasley from lunging toward Draco. "Was he bothering you, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"No more than usual," she replied.

Potter turned back to Draco. "Get out of here, Malfoy. Some of us will be attempting to digest in a moment, and that will be an incredibly difficult task with you standing there." Weasley took a seat next to Hermione. Harry walked around the table and sat across from her. Draco, still lacking any semblance of an appetite, decided to leave the Great Hall before he did something he would regret. On his way out, he was nearly bowled over by Neville Longbottom.

"Watch where you're going," Draco growled.

Longbottom did not answer, he only hurried away. As Draco checked his clothing for some sign of dishevelment, he spotted the Herbology textbook with the sheet of parchment sticking out of it. He opened it and scanned what had been written. There were notes on the properties of some plant he had never heard of, and Neville's name at the top of it. He closed the book and walked reluctantly back to the Gryffindor table.

"Longbottom," he said, when he was about five feet from him. Neville turned around, looking afraid. Don't worry, thought Draco sardonically, the Wonder Boys will protect you.

"Er…" was all Longbottom managed to get out.

Draco held the book out. "You dropped this."

Every Gryffindor occupying their table at that time turned and stared at him. He was sure the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were staring as well. As for the Slytherins, it was obvious that they were waiting for the punch line. Longbottom sat stunned, appearing to consider what to do.

"Look, just take it. I haven't done anything to it," Draco said in annoyance.

Still, Longbottom didn't reach for his book. "Why don't you just leave him alone," Weasley, ever the unnecessary savior, suggested with excessive hostility.

"I happen to be attempting to return someone's personal property, Weasley," stated Draco. "If Longbottom wants his Herbology book and notes, it's no business of yours. I would say that's his decision to make."

Neville had finally been jolted out of catatonia, and looked through his things. He turned again and nervously nodded and reached out to take his book. Draco took a few steps forward to hand it to him. As soon as the book was in Neville's hands, he opened it to check the parchment within, and he sighed in relief. He looked up with genuine gratitude, though the fear was still present as well.

"Er, thanks," Longbottom croaked. Draco nodded curtly to him, in the manner of a Malfoy being polite to someone he did not particularly like. His eyes swept over Hermione briefly as he turned to leave. The look on her face was fairly blank. He took it to mean that she thought he was trying to impress her, and she was trying to remain unimpressed. The mouths of both Weasley and Potter had fallen open unattractively.

"Now, there's a look to get the ladies excited," Draco jibed, as he walked away. "Slack-jawed stupidity. I would try it sometime, but that would be false advertising." He hoped they would know he was talking about them, but he did not turn back to check as he exited the Great Hall.

Draco badly wanted to hit something.


Two days had passed since Draco had sought her conversation and then surprised them all that morning in the Great Hall. Hermione sat in the common room, curled up near the hearth. Even in September, even when there was no fire, she liked to sit by the fireplace. She had her Transfiguration text open in her lap, and was researching answers for the homework that was due the next day. Most of the other students were outside, as it was sunny and warm.

A few days ago she had decided that she would not call Malfoy by his surname, at least when they were alone. It would be rather juvenile of her to revert to that when she had been calling him 'Draco' for so long. She liked his first name better, anyway. Not that it mattered, as she repeatedly told herself.

Transfiguration. Right. She began to read aloud to help herself concentrate. "One of the most difficult transformations a wizard or witch must learn it the changing of an animal into another species of the same family." But why would Draco just return Neville's book, without doing anything… Malfoy beforehand? It was very unlike him. But perhaps not unlike the him that she had started to know during their odd relationship. "You must look into the eyes of the animal while performing this spell." She wondered if she had ever known him at all. But still, all the Slytherins picked on Neville at every chance. This had been an opportunity to cause Neville to go into a frantic search for his Herbology notes. Instead, Draco had handed it back to him without a second thought. Sighing, Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't make much sense," she said aloud, closing her book sharply and massaging her temples.

"Don't tell me you of all people are having homework trouble?" Ginny's voice interrupted. "Merlin knows what I'm going to do next year if you can't do it."

"No, it's not that. I'm just having trouble concentrating."

"Ah." Ginny fell silent. The look on her face exuded broodiness of a Harry-esque capacity. Hermione thought she would relate the cause of this brooding if she waited, but still Ginny said nothing. At last, Hermione decided that direct interrogation would be most effective.

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny looked up, her expression perplexed. "I kissed Harry."

At once, Hermione became excited. The event had been her doing, after all. However, there was the Unhappy Factor to consider. Hermione would have thought Ginny would be floating on a cloud if she ever kissed Harry. "Was Ron there when it happened?" she asked, her voice low.

"God no. I don't go kissing boys in front of my brother, Hermione. I have far more sense than that. Besides, I like first kisses to be private. No one around at all."

"That makes sense. I suppose I would want it that way, as well." There had been other people present the first time Draco kissed her, but none of them had taken any notice. Was that the equivalent of being alone? "Didn't he kiss you back?"

"Oh, of course," Ginny answered. "There has never been, and never will be if I can help it, a time when I was not kissed back."

Hermione fought down her smile, because the situation was serious, and Ginny was most certainly not joking. "Well, what happened?"

Ginny exhaled in consideration before answering. "You know when you kiss someone and you really feel something? I don't mean sparks or chemistry or anything, but… you feel something?"

Hermione blushed. "Maybe."

"I had always assumed, because I liked Harry so much, that I would feel that when I kissed him. But I didn't feel anything. I could tell he didn't either. It was like when you kiss someone on a dare and you're rather indifferent to kissing the person." She sat back with a huff, crossing her arms. Hermione could understand this action.

"Well, maybe you never really liked him that way," Hermione said. "It is possible to mistake feelings of close friendship for a crush."

"I suppose, but I really did like him," insisted Ginny. "Believe me."

"You must have had a certain extravagant fantasy of kissing him planted so firmly in your mind that the actual experience could never compare," Hermione suggested with conviction. It was true that she was analyzing the situation at hand with her expansive vocabulary, as Ron had once told her she did.

"You know," said Ginny, "that does make sense. It's just disappointing. Now I don't even want to give it a second shot with Harry."

"I'm sorry, Ginny."

"Hey, nothing doing. There are plenty of other boys at this school."

Hermione grinned. "Yeah, so you'd better hurry. The year might end before you've exhausted all the possibilities."

"Shut it," Ginny commanded genially.

Harry arrived, stood awkwardly, and managed to force out, "Ron will be here in a few minutes. He just went to get some things for our big Sunday Night Bash."

"Harry," Ginny said, adopting a more serious tone, "I want you to do me a favor."

He glanced toward Hermione. "What is it?"

"Hermione knows, Harry. I just told her. I want you to pretend that neither of us ever felt anything toward the other except friendship. Will you do that for me?" She batted her eyelashes in the way that Lavender did whenever she felt the urge to make Hermione gag.

Harry smiled, relieved. "Sure. As long as you don't tell Ron we kissed."

"It's a deal."

Surprisingly enough, Ginny and Harry were utterly comfortable after that exchange, and Ron was never the wiser for what had transpired between them. They all went about their happy lives.

Is it really that simple? All it takes to forget about crushes is willpower?

Oh, god. I'm going to be thinking about Draco forever.

Hermione managed to finish her homework before the common room got too rowdy. She stashed her book upstairs and joined the jovial Gryffindors, but her heart was not in it because her mind was elsewhere. She took her privilege as Head Girl to wander the halls around nine in the evening.

Half of the portraits she passed were already sleeping, some snoring. A few commented that she should be in her dormitory, but they were shushed by the ones who knew her as Head Girl. Some simply said a quiet "hello" and went back to their two-dimensional business. Many ignored her completely.

The portrait of the chubby man in the green velvet waistcoat turned over in his slumber and muttered, "How much is that doggy in the window?" Hermione stifled her chuckle as she passed him.

Soon, she found herself facing the bowl of fruit that marked the entrance to the kitchen. Not having any better ideas, she tickled the pear and entered. Perhaps there was something the elves could give her…

They all looked at her suspiciously, apparently remembering her from the days when S.P.E.W. was in high gear. She decided to let them help her. "Could I have some hot chocolate with a bit of whipped cream?" she requested.

At once, all the house elves brightened. "Yes, miss. Would miss like anything else?" One of them asked.

She shook her head. They pushed a stool up to the counter in the middle of the kitchen and offered her the seat. In no time, she had a large mug of chocolate with whipped cream floating at the top, and a spoon was placed beside it. She had some of it and felt instantly relaxed.

She took her time finishing, savoring each sip. When one of the house elves came to take her dishes away, she asked him, "Do you really not want to be free and paid? Truly?"

"House elves are born to serve, miss," he answered, bowing his bulbous little head. "We don't do anything else, miss, why should we be paid? It has always been this way." He seemed nervous, as though wondering if she would start S.P.E.W.-ing at him.

"All right," she said wearily. "If you are happy with things the way they are, I'm not going to try to change them."

"Yes, miss, we are happy," he said, a smile breaking out on his face. "Dumbledore sir is a great man. A great master."

Hermione smiled back at him. "That's good. I like Dumbledore, too."

The elf beamed, then cleared away her dishes. She said goodbye to the servants and trudged back up to Gryffindor Tower, where the celebration had thinned but showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

"Attention, people!" she shouted over the commotion already in place. They quieted to let her speak. "Thanks. I don't want to be the one to break up your fun, but since everyone has classes in the morning I am requesting you to end this at eleven o'clock. I trust you to do so without me looking over your shoulders. I'm not going to be a Head Girl Snape. I would prefer, however, if Professor McGonagall did not have to come in here in the middle of the night to tell you all to go to bed. All right, carry on."

They applauded her appreciatively. Before she reached the stairs, Ginny and Ron caught her. "You're not staying?" Ron asked. "Where've you been?"

"The kitchen, and no," Hermione answered the questions in reverse order. "I am rather tired, and we have Transfiguration in the morning. You two should go to bed as well. Where is Harry?"

"Feeding butterbeers to Colin over in the corner," Ginny answered, gesturing behind her. Hermione looked at the two sullen boys and her heart almost broke for them. "Harry says he'd rather spend time with someone whose feelings were somewhere close to his."

Hermione looked at the floor. "We have to help him," she said quietly.

"Harry, or Colin?" Ron wanted to know.

She brought her eyes up. "Both of them. They are both killing themselves with their sadness. As Head Girl, but more importantly as their friend, I can't let them stay this way."

"I don't think you can do much to change it," Ginny said. "They won't feel better until they get what they need, and they won't know what they need until they get it."

Ron and Hermione both looked at her in surprise. "How do you know that?"

She shrugged. "It's not that hard to figure out."

"Really, you two, I need to get to my bed," said Hermione. She pushed past them and managed to make it into her pajamas before crying empathetically for everyone who had ever suffered a great loss.

…TBC…

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