Dear Owlpal,

Well, now that we're on common ground, we can move on then and just put up with each other's personality, since we have little choice in the matter anyway.

I wasn't asking for an explanation between pets and companions, in fact, I had clearly stated that I knew there was a difference, so there was little point for you to state it. And if you're trying to prove yourself to me, that's also a redundant thing to do. You have nothing to prove to me.

You must have had little going on with your life if starting Hogwarts was the most thrilling day that you've ever experienced. I suggest getting out a little more. It sounds like you have lived a relatively boring life.

The OWLs. Oh, yes. It's a pity that the professors chose this year to throw this inter-house unity thing at us. As if we don't have enough going on. I'm not too worried though. I've actually taken up an extra few classes to broaden my future. I plan to receive at least nine OWLs, but of course, I'll aim for them all.

As far as how my housemates are handling the pressure, some are already biting their nails right down to the quicks. Then I know a few who are just too dumb to realize how serious this year is for them. That's not my problem though. And I won't feel bad at all when it finally hits them in the chest. And I'm not even going to bother helping them if they ask me. If they're too stupid to know now, they're not even worth my time later. I suggest you do the same with your friends. Why I bet they probably use you like a carpet. You shouldn't let them do that to you.

It's bedtime now. I'm tired. Goodnight.

Draco barely got to end the letter before his eyes slid close. He'd had an exhausting day of studying and he needed the sleep.

"What's got your face spitting in two?" Draco demanded as he entered his dorm room the next afternoon, depositing his book bag onto his trunk. Gregory had the stupidest smile on his face.

Gregory abruptly turned from Draco and stuffed his letter into his robes. "Nothing," he mumbled.

"He's got a girlfriend!" Vincent teased and started making childish kissing sounds.

"I do not!" Gregory snarled, showing his best mate a fist, threatening to slug him with it, but it didn't stop Vincent in the slightest.

"Knock it off, Crabbe," Draco ordered, not wanting to hear the disgusting sounds he was making. "Is it true then?" He was curious if Gregory really had a girl who was interested in him. It would shock Draco immensely.

Gregory shrugged, hiding his face. "It's just my owlpal, she—"

"Your owlpal is female?" Draco cut him off, mildly surprised over the news. By now, the owlpals had been going on for nearly a month, and he had never mentioned this before.

Gregory nodded.

"Mine is too," Blaise announced, overhearing as he came into the room. "Wouldn't you know it, I actually got myself a Gryffindor."

Draco made a face of horror. "That's terribly unlucky!"

Blaise shrugged. "Perhaps, but she's going to help me earn 100 points for our house, and I've made that fact clear to her. Told her I was Slytherin in my last letter. I'm just dying to read her response to that!"

"Be careful! If she is in our year, she might make you out," Draco warned him.

"I'm being discreet enough," Blaise assured. "Stop your worrying. I can handle myself perfectly fine, you know."

"I've got a bloke," Pansy informed Draco when he saw her next. He was starting to learn that everyone who had signed up for the program had been matched up with the opposite gender. "And I'm afraid to admit it, but I think he's from Hufflepuff. He hasn't said either way, but he's fascinated with the Care of Magical Creatures. And he's afraid of the dark!" She scoffed here. "What a ninny!"

Draco turned his heel suddenly and began making his way to his dorm room.

"Where are you going?!" Pansy called after him, but Draco didn't answer. He had a letter to send off.

He had already received a lengthy response from his owlpal, which included a huge list of books that was recommended for him to see about reading for the OWLs. Half of the titles Draco hadn't read before, and he made a mental note to go borrow them from the library when he got done reading the ones that he already had.

This letter was going to be straight to the point. He had a question, and he wanted an immediate answer.

Dear Owlpal,

I know you're deeply concentrating on the OWLs right now, and I haven't gotten around to making a proper response to your last letter, (thank you for the book list though) but this is quite urgent. I need to know, are you a female? I'm a male.

On Saturday, Draco stretched out slowly, preparing his body for that day's Quidditch match. He wasn't nervous, knowing Weasley was going to fudge up terribly today, but his captain still gave the usual no-nonsense pep talk that he did with every game.

Vincent and Gregory watched Draco's closely as he stretched, mimicking him as best as they could. They had suddenly been given the Beater positions since the previous ones dropped off the team at the last minute.

"I'm nervous," Vincent whispered worriedly. "What if I foul up?"

"Oh quit your worrying," Draco waved him off. "All you have to do is smack people in the head— you like doing that, remember? I'm the one who has to do all the work, the rest of you just give the spectators something to watch."

"I don't want to do this," Gregory mumbled.

"It's just for this one game," Draco promised his friends. "You're going to do fine. Relax. Think about how our little song is going to affect the Gryffindors today."

Draco smirked at the surprise that he had in store for the Gryffindors. His little song was going to drive them completely mad.

Sadly, the song was not enough to distract Potter from getting the Snitch. Although, Vincent did get one final blow in, hurling the Bludger at Potter's head just as the game ended, so that mildly lifted up Draco's spirits.

Draco knew how to ruin their win though. He stood back at a safe distance as Potter stood up, clutching his head from where Vincent's bludger had conked him.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you? I've never seen a worse Keeper, but then he was born in a bin. Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Potter ignored him and turned to celebrate his victory. Draco watched as Weasel-bee dismounted his broom with a slump to his shoulders. He snickered knowing his song had greatly struck a nerve with the redhead.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called out with a raised voice ensuring that the Gryffindors could hear him. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly— we wanted to sing about his mother, see. We couldn't fit in useless loser either— for his father, you know. But you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Draco sneered, noticing that the other Gryffindors were now hearing his exact words over the commotion. The Weasley twins were having to be held back by their teammates to keep from attacking Draco. "Spend a lot of time over there, do you, Potter? It must remind you of your mother's house, I'd imagine. We all know where she came from, bet the Weasley pigsty just reeks of her Mudblood scent—"

All in one motion, Draco found himself being knocked to the ground with one of the twins on top on him, and Potter was at his side, doing a number to his stomach. A commotion broke out around them as Draco bunched up as best as he could to protect his body. Girls were screaming, the twin was yelling out obscenities, and a whistle rang throughout the pandemonium. None of that stopped the boys from pounding on Draco though. He had said a little too much.

Finally, Potter and the one Weasley twin were thrown off Draco with a spell and severely scolded by Madam Hooch.

Draco whimpered in pain, unwilling himself to move from his place, fearing the agony would intensify. His nose was bleeding a second time that year, and Draco was sure his ribs were broken. His entire body ached with forming bruises. He supposed he deserved it, but it'd be worth it if the offending Gryffindors got banned from playing.

Vincent was stuck in a series of laughter, finding the whole thing amusing.

"Ow!" Draco hollered out when Madam Hooch helped him up. "That hurts, damnit!"

She sighed disapprovingly. "You know, Mr Malfoy, it won't be long before you'll be graduating, and once you leave the grounds of Hogwarts, no one is going to come to your aid."

Draco scowled as she led him away to the Infirmary so that the mediwitch could tend to his wounds.

"Getting a lot of bloody noses lately, Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey noted simply. She handed him a bottle of salve to rub on his bruises. "What happened this time?"

"Got jumped by Potter and one of the Weasley twins," Draco muttered, wincing as he rubbed the salve deep into his side. Maybe he ought to reconsider his strategy next time, this was for the pits.

"Here," Pomfrey held out a potion for his broken ribs. "How's the House Unity Program going for you?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her attempt of casual conversation. You'd think her day would be busier given that a Quidditch match had just ended, but sadly not, he was the only patient at the moment.

He shuddered at the foul taste of the potion, handing her back the empty vial. "I probably could do better," he admitted.

"Especially with you being a Prefect, hmm?"

Draco scoffed. He knew why he had been given the title. They hoped that it would encourage him to participate in the inter-house unity. They knew that if he would, the other Slytherins would follow. They knew that he was a leader, and they needed him to lead.

Even if Blaise was highly more qualified for keeping peace amoung their peers.

"Is he free to leave?"

Draco braced himself when he heard the slow, dark drawl of his head-of-house.

"Yes, he's all back in top shape," Pomfrey informed Snape. She gave Draco a sympathetic look, somewhat knowing what was about to transpire between the two.

"Aren't you a little old for these petty games, Draco?" Professor Shape chastised him as soon as they were alone in his office.

"I was peeved off," Draco explained quietly. He hated when Snape scolded him. Snape would likely tell his father what had just transpired too. "I nearly had that Snitch!"

"And your silly, little song? Was that at all necessary?"

"Weasley was only picked because he was Potter's friend!"

"Did you try out for the position then?"

Draco shook his head, scoffing. "Why would I try out to be on Gryffindor's team?!"

"You seem so concerned about who the captain chose and why. I don't see how it's any of your business unless you were a part of the decision making," Snape smoothly replied.

Draco saw his point. Why should it matter if Weasley was Gryffindor's Keeper?

"We both know why you did it. In the same time that you spent writing that ridiculous song, you could have done something actually useful. I am severely disappointed with your immaturity today, Draco. What an absolute waste of your time. I thought you were better than that."

Draco's eyes drifted to the floor. "You're right, sir," he agreed softly, suddenly feeling ashamed of his behaviour. Here he was in his fifth year of schooling, getting ready for his OWLs and he was still acting like a First year.

"Of course I am. Now then, have a seat there." He pointed to a chair near Draco.

Draco refrained from sighing in annoyance, knowing Snape would add an extra two-hundred lines if he at all expressed his thoughts on the upcoming punishment.

"I need to stop being an immature prat and focus on more propitious activities," Professor Shape supplied the line that Draco was to write 1000 times over.

*/*

"Okay, not that he doesn't deserve it and that I haven't resorted to physical violence against Malfoy myself, but honestly, Harry, two against one?" Hermione gave Harry a look of disapproval. "And George definitely outweighs the prat on his own. Sounds like a very uneven fight, if you ask me."

"We sort of just lost control," Harry confessed, slumping his shoulders. "If you had heard him, Hermione…" He sighed, trailing off.

"Oh I know quite well how hurtful his words are! You're just lucky that McGonagall didn't remove you from the team!"

Harry nodded. But he looked sick to his stomach. "She's going to owl my parents."

Hermione thinned her lips. The Potters were quite strict with Harry. He might end up removed from the team after they heard what he had done. They didn't stand for fighting in the slightest. Even if it was against the Slytherins.

"Well, good luck," she bid him, looking toward the sound of the Fat Lady's portrait creaking open. Ron stepped in, his eyes were stuck to the floor.

"Where have you been?" Hermione wondered, only now noticing that he hadn't been around since the game had ended.

"I shouldn't have even tried out for the bloody team," he answered quietly.

"Well, that's about rubbish," Harry said. "Don't feel bad cause you had a rough first game."

"I can't play for squat!"

"Sure you can!" Hermione spoke up encouragingly. "You just need to practice ignoring Malfoy more."

Harry nudged her gently, smiling. "Just like you do with him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm working on that myself," she muttered. "Anyway," she turned to Ron, "don't worry about it, Ronald. Practice more, and you'll get better at the game."

Ron nodded slowly. "So," a grin etched to his lips, "Did you and George really give Malfoy a pounding?" he asked Harry.

Harry put his head into his heads. "Yes. It's not something I'm proud of though."

"Would have been nice to see," Ron said wistfully.

"Then it might have even been three against one," Hermione huffed, knowing Ron would have likely jumped in.

"Maybe now he'll think twice than to make fun of people's mums," Harry said. "Definitely a low blow."

"Sure he will," Ron muttered sarcastically. "And I'll win the next lottery!"

Hermione had forgotten to check the owlpal box that night, and the next morning, she had woken up with a start, realizing it. She hopped out of bed and scurried down to the common room to retrieve her letter. Her eyebrows furrowed, realizing that it was incredibly short, and when she read it over, she didn't quite understand why it was urgent for her owlpal (who she now knew was a male) to know if she was a female.

She wrote a quick reply to the short one, stating that she was a female and stuffed the sealed envelope into the box.

"Something wrong?" Ginny wondered, approaching her, noticing her thoughtful frown.

"It's Sunday," Hermione said. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Ginny grinned. "I'm hoping for a reply from my owlpal today. So?" she questioned Hermione.

"My owlpal asked me if I was male or female."

"Why does that puzzle you?"

"He said it was urgent for him to know."

Ginny's eyebrows lifted. "He's a he, hmm?"

Hermione planted her hands onto her hips. "And just what are you implying?!"

Ginny shrugged. "He sounds smart enough to make a perfect match for you."

"Well, he was matched perfectly to me," Hermione pointed out. "For the program."

Ginny laughed. "I meant for dating, Hermione!"

"Dating?!" Hermione shrieked, finding the idea preposterous. "I don't have time for dating, Ginny!"

Ginny tilted her head. "Well, I can't wait to meet my owlpal! If he's up for it, I'm hoping to take him to Hogsmead for a Butterbeer!"

A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione, and she hurried back to her dorm to get dressed. She had to speak with McGonagall as soon as she could.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" the headmistress permitted Hermione entry to her office, offering her a seat. "What is on your mind?"

Hermione inhaled a breath. She really didn't want to jump to conclusions, but nothing else made sense. It couldn't have been a coincidence that everyone ended up with an owlpal who was opposite to their gender.

"Is there something more to the Owlpal Program than what we were originally told?"

Ever so slightly, Professor McGonagall turned her neck, giving Hermione a curious look. "Such as?" she cautiously asked.

"It has recently occurred to me that we've been paired off with genders opposite to ours."

The elder witch folded her hands onto the top of her desk. "Is that a problem?"

"It cannot have been a coincidence that out of every participant not one has an owlpal who is of the same gender?"

"Perhaps it was. The matching process was strictly done by magic alone through the use of a pairing charm. Your professors did not handle the processing manually if that's you're thinking."

Hermione tucked her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking. "Professor," she said softly. "I can't help believing that we've been paired off as…" Hermione swallowed hard, slightly disturbed with the thought. "As compatible couples."

"Well, Miss Granger, even if that was true, it's not like you'd be forced to date your owlpal once his identity is revealed. Although, if what you believe is correct, it probably wouldn't be a terrible idea— should the two of you have any sort of chemistry, mind you."

"I'm too busy for that kind of thing," Hermione instantly rejected the idea, thinking about the OWLs that she was still unprepared for.

"Yes, of course. You've got your studies. You're a wonderful student, Miss Granger, but you have personal needs too, so please do not neglect those either."

Hermione nodded. Once she graduated, she'd take her time with dating, but her education was far more important than that at the moment. A boyfriend would surely cause a distraction.

"Has your mind been set at ease now, dear?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed out, grateful that her professors hadn't been pairing off students in secret. "Thanks, professor."

"Anytime, Miss Granger."

Sunday was a quieter day since there were hardly any activities scheduled and obviously no classes. Typically, most of the students used this day to sleep the day away, but Hermione used it for studying. So she went back up to her dorm to finish the Astronomy book that she was in the middle of. If she finished it today, she could return her stack of books and borrow some different ones.

"Ron is down in the common room, whining, Hermione," Fay Dunbar announced. "He's pleaded me to come up and fetch you."

Hermione was pulled from her read, slightly annoyed that she was being interrupted. She didn't show this feeling to Fay, knowing that her housemate was only giving her a message, but it was like Ron didn't even care that Hermione could actually be busy with something.

I suggest you do the same with your friends, Hermione's owlpal had written to her after explaining that he wouldn't help his slacker friends.

Why I bet they probably use you like a carpet. You shouldn't let them do that to you.

Hermione sighed. She knew Ron had waited until the last minute to complete his Transfigurations assignment. He wanted her to go down and help him.

They did use her like a carpet, Hermione suddenly realized. How it had not occurred to her until right then, she didn't know. It was peculiar how her owlpal, who she had never met was able to sense this with just one paragraph of her mentioning it.

But then, of course, it sounded like he'd go through the same thing if he would allow it.

It appeared that Hermione and her owlpal had a lot more in common than just their favourite things. Their peers incredibly relied on them for their help.

"Thank you," she told Fay, closing up the book. She made her way down the staircase and reluctantly crossed the room to where Ron and Harry were seated.

"So, what don't you understand now?" she asked Ron, exasperated with having to spend the next hour to help her friend, who honestly would never realize how substantial she really was to him and his education.

AN: Yes, I have been slacking with the updates. I apologize, been busy with spring things IRL (building a chicken coop and compost bins!).

Review Responses:

Shawnjoell: I try to keep him in character for this story :D

pgoodrichboggs: Thanks! :)