Disclaimer: I don't own anything - instead I borrow it, chop it all up and marinade it in a cheesy sauce. Bake for 35 minutes, at gas mark 6, then leave to cool. Serving suggestion: With a pinch of salt. This chapter contains violence.

AN: Yes, it's chapter five! Unfortunately real life events got in the way of my writing this fic. But it's here now.

Dedication: To anyone who's actually reading this, and not thinking of flaming it. In particular Elphaba who promised to "...find a way to kill me." if I abandoned it. Also, to Richard Hammond - get well soon!

You Can't Be The Hero - That's My Job!

By Moi!

Chapter Five: I Smell Danger!

After Hermione's traumatic reference to the effects of the female menstrual cycle, the two boys were scared into silence, a silence which Hermione didn't notice as she was too busy telling Harry about what had happened in the library.

"...even Slytherins are falling foul of Heroismitis now. This is really bad," she glanced at her watch. "Slytherins showing signs of heroism is just unnatural. They're inclined to be selfish, and only ever to look out for themselves. This is serious, we've got to stop wasting time and find a cure."

Hermione suddenly realised that her male comrades hadn't said anything for a while. "Ron! Harry! Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Yes," Ron squeaked, not making eye contact with the pre-menstrual-tensionedful young woman. "Of course we are. It's just - it's just...Harry you wanted to say something?"

"No, no, Ron. I'm good," Harry made a welcoming gesture. "You go right ahead."

"I'd really rather not," Ron wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "It'd be much better coming from you, Harry, anyway."

"No, it wouldn't!"

"Yes, it would!"

"We don't have time for this nonsense," Hermione asserted. "One of you just say whatever you want to say. Now!"

Ron looked at Harry who turned away sheepishly. "I thought you were supposed to be all brave and everything these days?"

"Yeah, but I'll never possess the amount of courage needed to say that to her," Harry confessed.

"Then what hope do I have?" Ron asked doubtfully.

Harry glanced nervously at Hermione and wheeled Ron round. Ron getting the idea that they were having a Private Talk tilted his right ear closer toward Harry. Harry began to explain his theory, in nought but a whisper.

Hermione, who was anxious about the time they were wasting, sighed, rolled her eyes and began to tap her foot impatiently.

"Hermione's not going to kick you where it hurts for saying it, is she? Not when she's got designs on you and probably wants you to father her children one day."

"I'm not sure I understand what your insinuating."

"Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron," Harry sighed, whilst draping his arm round Ron's shoulder, in a fatherly sort of manner, despite Harry never having come across as a father-figure toward Ron before. "Is it not obvious what I speak of?" Harry continued as though his question had been rhetorical. "Hermione's got the hots for you!" he exclaimed. He was of course still whispering, but it still counted as an exclamation if you ask me. Just imagine the embarrassment all round if he'd actually said it audibly! Cringey.

Of course, Ron still got all embarrassed and flustered, as he had been able to hear Harry's exclaimed-whisper. He went red right to the tippy-tip-tips of his ears.

"You really think so?" he whispered back.

"Is the thought of me and Hermione being romantically-involved sickening?" asked Harry in the same tone you would use if you were inquiring whether the Pope was Catholic.

"Quite frankly - yes."

More Harry/Hermione-friendly exchange:

"Is 'ja' German for 'yes'?" asked Harry in the same tone you would use if you were inquiring whether the Pope was Catholic.

"I think it might just be - yes."

"Well there's your answer then," Harry concluded. "Now go tell her you love her!"

Ron furrowed his brow. "That wasn't what we were conferring over."

"Wasn't it?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then what were we conferring over?

"Why Hermione wasn't likely to kick me in the balls if I told her-"

"Ah, yes. I remember now."

There was silence.

"So go then. Tell her," Harry wheeled Ron back round again, so they were facing Hermione once more. She was examining her eyebrows in a nearby mirror.

"Finished?"

"Yes."

"So what was it you were going to tell me?"

Ron closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere other than where he was right now. "Hermione, please don't hurt me, but, well, you're not going to like this," Ron grimaced and felt it was better to get it out sooner rather than later. "Me and Harry are concerned for our safety at the moment, considering it's your - you know - Time Of The Month."

Ron hid behind Harry.

Hermione didn't say anything for a number of seconds. It was clear this had been the last thing she'd expected to hear. "Why would you be concerned for your safety?"

"Err...remember when you slapped Malfoy that time?" Harry broached.

"I was tired! And he deserved it!" Hermione shrieked. "I was really, really worn-out that year - time-travel does that to you!"

"I'm aware that you had issues, but..." upon seeing the look of pure menace in Hermione's eyes, Harry tailed off.

"I SMELL DANGER!"

The trio jumped about a foot in the air.

They were still outside the hospital wing, standing next to Malfoy's levitating stretcher; only Malfoy wasn't sprawled unconscious on it anymore. He'd sat bolt-right up, and announced that he could "...smell danger".

He had a crazed look in his eyes as he leapt up, and ran past several still-bedraggled students, and into the hospital wing.

The trio followed, not wanting to miss Malfoy do something stupid. In fact, Ron wished he had a camera on him. You know - for blackmail purposes.

As they entered they hit a wall of people, all of whom were damp and professing a need to go do something heroic. But they couldn't see Malfoy anywhere.

"Where'd he go?"

Madam Pomfrey was running about administering potions and handing out blankets.

"Madam Pomfrey, did you see Draco Malfoy come in here?" Hermione asked the Matron as she continued her fussing.

"Is he missing, dear?" concern was etched in her voice as she simultaneously held down a third-year Ravenclaw in a bid to give him some potion. "We should form a search party at once if that's the case."

"Oh no, it's nothing like that. He ran in here, after shouting "I smell danger!" and that struck us as a little odd - despite the Heroismitis -so we followed. So you didn't see...?" Hermione forgot to finish her sentence when her eyes met the truly bizarre sight of Draco Malfoy - the Draco Malfoy, cold-hearted, arrogant snob - wearing what appeared to be a hospital gown tied around his neck a la cape fashion, and his green and silver (naturally) underwear no longer under what he was wearing.

"I know it's officially clichéd for me to say "Bloody Hell!" and everything," said Ron. "But Bloody Hell!"

Silence had fallen over the ward, as everyone gawped at Malfoy's new get-up.

"You may mock, Weaselboy, but your dastardly plot to shatter my confidence is futile. You'll need a lot more than 'Bloody Hell'."

"Did you just call me Weaselboy?" Ron spat, outraged.

It was at this moment that Madam Pomfrey made another revelation. "Dear Lord! He's developed Superheroismitis!"

An audible gasp resonated around the hospital wind, and a Hufflepuff first-year even fainted (not very heroic, but there you go - it's not like Harry's never lost consciousness before, mind.).

Harry stepped forward, valiantly, addressing the Matron. "How can you be sure?"

Disbelieving, she replied. "He's wearing his unmentionables over his robes, Mr Potter. It's a clear sign."

"Of course," he replied pensively. "In your expert opinion, would you say this was a - you know - a bad thing?"

"Only for you," Malfoy smirked. Some things never change. "The Scar. My archenemy."

Harry raised his left eyebrow quizzically.

"And this penchant for calling people ridiculous names - is there any connection?"

"I'd hazard a guess and say so - yes," she confirmed and not without a hint of sarcasm.

Harry decided he didn't care for her tone, so instead questioned Malfoy himself. "Do you have any superhuman powers now you're a super hero then, eh?"

"Of course. As SuperDragonBoy, I have many powers. For example, I can fly...without a broom."

"Nay! That's impossible!" cried Harry.

"Not for me it's not!"

"That's a double negative!" screamed Hermione.

"Double negatives aside, it's still impossible," Harry assured. His green eyes locked with Malfoy's grey ones. "Prove it."

"Okey doke." Malfoy scrunched up his face, as though he were concentrating - or constipated - and slowly, but surely, two enormous wings sprouted out of his back, ripping his robes.

They were black, tinged with green, and covered in spikes.

Malfoy looked up at the startled faces of absolutely everyone. And smirked.

With that he flapped his newly-grown wings and took flight.He soared around the hospital wing, above their heads, before speeding towards the doors at full pelt; but before he could crash into them, a bright orange flame shot from his open mouth and set the doors ablaze.

As everyone screamed in terror, Harry just managed to see Malfoy disappear into the inferno he'd created.

"This is definitely not a good thing," he said to no one, as they we all too busy spraying jets of water from their wands at where the doors used to be - this shocking event had not changed the fact that they were still infected with Heroismitis. Harry really had to do something about that too.

OOO

"I call this emergency meeting of the Golden Trio to order," Harry banged his gavel on the podium in front of him. They were in the Room of Requirements, which had arranged itself into a meeting room for the trio - there was the podium which Harry was standing at, and two wooden chairs facing it, which Ron and Hermione were sat on, respectively. "Role call: Harry James Potter - here - Ronald Bilius Weasley?"

"Here."

"Hermione Jane Granger?"

"Is this really necessary, Harry?"

"Hermione Jane Granger?"

"Here." she sighed.

"Good, good. Now we may begin," Harry picked up his wand and pointed to a blackboard behind him. "The reasons I have called this emergency meeting today, are as follows: one, I have become infected with Heroismitis - that's not to say that I wouldn't be The Hero otherwise, though; two, it has in turn infected the majority of the school, as well; three, we have not found a cure for Heroismitis yet, despite all our endeavours; and finally, four, Malfoy's a dragon."

"We knew all that already, Harry," Hermione pointed out.

"Yes, yes, that was just a brief recap."

"Okay then. What are we going to do?" she asked.

"I haven't thought that far ahead, yet, " Harry admitted. "I was just thinking we could throw some ideas around, you know?"

"I have an idea - why don't we all just go to bed and learn to live with these new changes?" Ron suggested. He was tired. This story had been going on since lunchtime, and that had to have been hours ago now, and it still didn't look as if they'd be able to turn in any time soon.

"Ron! What kind of hero would I be if I didn't save everyone?"

"One who knew when it was time to give up?"

"The Hero never gives up!" Harry was outraged.

"Calm down, Harry," Hermione soothed. "I'm sure Ron was only joking. Weren't you, Ron?"

"Not really. I just want to go to bed," he said simply.

"Go to bed! Go to bed?" Harry cried indignantly. "Where would we be if we'd ever gone to bed before?"

"We've been to bed plenty of times before - not together I hasten to add," Ron didn't want any of those sorts of rumours going about.

"Yes, but never when we've had any questing to do," Harry reasoned.

"There's got to be a first time for everything."

"Go!" Harry ordered. "Get out of my sight this instant. I don't have time for any sidekicks who aren't entirely dedicated to the questing."

" I. AM. NOT. YOUR. SIDEKICK!" Ron said angrily through gritted teeth. He stood abruptly, and slammed out of the room.

Harry pretended that he hadn't just pissed one of his best friends off.

"So. Hermione any ideas?"

Hermione tutted.

Before either of them could say another word. The door was thrown open and Ron stormed back in.

"You know why I'm not your sidekick?" Ron said as those he's never left the room. "You know why? Because I'm The Hero, that's why."

"Oh no," Hermione sighed, holding her head in her hands.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked as though he'd misheard Ron.

"You heard me."

"What I heard was you saying you were The Hero," Harry laughed. "But I know that can't be true."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You want some?"

"Bring it on!"

!POW!

Ron had punched Harry squarely on the nose.

Hermione screamed. "Ron, no!"

Harry steadied himself.

"What was that for?" he yelled, both shocked and angry.

"You told be to bring it on," Ron replied, a tad confuzzled. "So, that's what I did."

"I just got a bit caught up in the moment," Harry explained. "I didn't actually want you to thump me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"What now, then?" Ron asked anxiously.

Harry turned away from Ron's gaze, and replied sulkily, "I'm not quite sure I want to be your friend right now."

"Harry, don't."

"No." Harry pouted. "I can't look at you anymore."

"Harry! No!"

"Perhaps, it would be for the best if you left for a while, Ron," Hermione reasoned. "Give everyone a chance to cool off."

Ron gaped open-mouthed at Hermione.

"But-"

"No, Ron. Just give it a little while."

"Okay, then," he said resignedly. He shuffled sadly to door.

He turned back and gave a look of regret to his two best friends.

"But I'll be back."

"Of course you will, Ron," Hermione concurred.

Then he left.

AN: Wohoo! I've finally finished chapter five!