So far:

Why is Draco Malfoy being so nice to her? Haven't they hated each other since September 1st, 1991? What is going on? What is he up to? Is he being nice to he just so she'll help him out with Parkinson, or does Malfoy have a different endgame? Obviously, Harriet just needs to be wary of the blond, and ignore how enchanting his eyes are.

Warnings: Unbeta-ed. Also, I'm super sleepy, so excuse my possibly shoddy editing.

Genre: Friendship, romance and humour.

NOTEWORTHY BOREDOM

CHAPTER 4

SECRET FRIENDSHIP

Harriet officially hated today. As she ate her lunch in stony silence, she decided to make a list of why the day was officially bad. She took out a piece of crumpled up parchment from her bag, and flattened it out.

"Whatcha writing, Harry?" asked Ron, his mouth full of food. But Harry didn't mind. He was the only friend she was talking to right now.

"I'm making a list of reasons as to why Hermione is the worst best-friend ever," she said loudly, glancing at the brunette as she said this. At least, the other girl had the decency to turn pink at this.

"Can I also add points?" asked Ron, which made Hermione turn and glare at them.

"Nuh-uh. Make your own list, Ron."

Being the amazingly lazy guy that he was, Ron went back to his plate of fried chicken, oblivious to the furious look on Hermione's face.

Harry proceeded with her list.

.

WHY TODAY IS HORRIBLE

(1) 12:05 am: Hermione is not very nice to me when she finds out about the Black Quill. She is more preoccupied with why the handkerchief around my hand is monogrammed as 'D.L.M'.

(2) 7:30 am: I wake up late, only to have my very pleasant dream about grey eyes cut short by Hermione dumping water on me. What kind of a best friend does that?

(3) At breakfast, time unknown: Angelina yells at me in front of EVERYONE. McGonagall removes points off me for getting into detention again. And Hermione refuses to support me, unlike Ron.

(4) Transfiguration class: I have to see the Toad's face for two hours today during Double Transfiguration. Though McGonagall does get back at Umbitch.

(5) 12:20 pm: It's so unfair that lunch gets postponed for us Gryffindors every Tuesday because of double Transfiguration. I am so hungry, I cannot wait for 1 pm, for class to get over.

(6) 1:30 pm: Hermione is being so mean to me. But that's okay because I'm never talking to her again.

(7) 1:35 pm: I've just realised that I have detention with Umbitch today. My hand hurts so bloody much. But it's a battle of wills. I will not back down from that bitch.

.

With that, Harry rolled her parchment up, and glared at Hermione. However, Hermione was engrossed in talking to Parvati about whether Trelawney deserved the way she had been treated yesterday by Umbridge.

At least, Parvati believed her, unlike that cow, Lavender.

Just before she was about to leave the table, a note inconspicuously appeared next to her plate. She took it and stuffed it into her skirt pocket, feeling slightly better about the day.

However, her good mood evaporated when she encountered Umbridge in the Care of Magical Creatures class. Umbridge seemed to be keen on getting the students to say that Hagrid had been a terrible teacher.

And Malfoy was being a git, on purpose. Every time Umbridge asked a stupid question, and Malfoy answered her, Harry felt her temper rise.

Though Hermione was supposedly not talking to Harry, both she and Ron gripped Harry's arms and tried to pull her towards the table of Bowtruckles, every time Malfoy opened his mouth.

When Umbridge asked if there had been any injuries in that class and Goyle gave a stupid grin, Harry knew that she was going to scream.

"That was me," Malfoy said, an evil look in his eyes. "I was slashed by a Hippogriff."

"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," yelled Harry.

From her either side, Ron and Hemrione groaned. Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry's direction.

"Another night's detention, I think," she said softly. After that, she turned to speak to Professor Grubbly-Plank, but Harry was too caught up in glaring at Malfoy. He too was staring at her, but there was something about his eyes. He seemed to be... Disappointed?

Harriet took out the note that she had stuffed in around an hour earlier, and opened it out.

.

'Harriet,

"A Beginner's Guide to Healing" by Amalgus Blisfurb, Fifth edition, Page 242.

Learn it.

Yours,

Foie Gras'

.

She tore the parchment into tiny pieces in front of him, and when he and his cronies passed by the three of them, she blew the pieces right into his face.

He shook his head at her, his face strangely expressionless, as he walked away.

Hermione was staring intently at her, a shrewd look in her eyes. Ron, being the darling that he was, was calling Umbridge all the foul words he knew. And that made Harry feel marginally better.

OoOoO

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge's office that night, her hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf she had wrapped around it.

When she bumped into Malfoy, in the same place as last night, she realised that it was probably not a coincidence. She decided to just keep walking.

"Potter? Potter!"

Harry kept walking, ignoring his hurried footsteps behind her. She had no choice however, but to not ignore Malfoy, when something hit her, pushing her to the ground. He had body tackled her to the floor from the back!

"You bloody git!"

"Ah, there's that voice I missed," he said, as she sat up, rubbing her elbows. Her bag was down on the floor next to her, it's clasp broken. All the contents were out, and her last ink bottle had broken, staining her bag.

She twisted to her side, to see that he too was sort of sprawled on the floor. She moved towards the nearby wall, and rested her head on it wearily. He did the same thing, pulling himself to her left.

"What do you want?"

"I'm guessing you didn't learn the spell yet."

She shook her head tiredly. Last night, she had been crying out of physical pain. But tonight, she felt like crying not just out of physical pain, but out of anger, frustration and her uncertainty over Sirius' and Hagrid's safety.

He reached across and took her right hand, and gently removed her Gryffindor scarf. As soon as he uttered the Loksomnum spell, she felt herself growing tired, as the pain instantaneously disappeared. She closed her eyes and leaned further into the wall.

"Potter? Potter? Umm... Harriet?"

Harriet opened her eyes blearily, to find herself getting prodded in the ribs by Malfoy's long pale index finger.

"I'm up," she slurred, as she tried to sit up and wake up completely. As she felt more alert, she realised that Malfoy had neatly packed her things back into her bag, and that the ink stain had disappeared. She looked down at her hand, to find that the bleeding had stopped.

"How...?" she asked, her voice sounding raspy to her own ears.

"A new spell I learnt."

And then she remembered how he had insulted Hagrid in today's class. She smacked the side of his head using her right hand, twisting a little to reach his head.

To her immense astonishment, he smacked her back.

"How dare you hit me!"

"You hit me first!"

"You can't hit me, I'm a girl!"

"My mother told me to treat girls and boys the same."

She took a deep breath in, realising how flimsy her argument had sounded. She was surprised, though, to find out that Narcissa Malfoy had such progressive, feminist views.

"I never thought your mother would be a feminist."

"There are many things you don't know, Potter."

She stared at him, surprised that he had gone back to calling her Potter. Of course, that was for the best. She hated him for getting her another detention with Umbridge.

"Why are you so keen on getting Hagrid out? What do you have against him?"

"I don't like people who are odd and different."

"You sound a lot like Hitler, right now."

"Who?"

"A Muggle dictator... You wouldn't know."

"Muggles are so stupid."

Harry chose to ignore that.

"I no longer owe you for your helping me out yesterday, seeing as you got me extra detention. And I don't owe you a thing for today, because you willingly hurt Hagrid's credibility."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. So Harry asked him another question.

"Why do you hate Ron?"

"Because he's a Blood-Traitor. And he's your friend."

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't know if I have ever really hated you," he answered softly, his eyes smouldering in the gloomy lighting.

Harriet felt something shift within her. The needle of that mental balance was now slowly swerving from the extreme right to the centre. It was not completely at the centre, it was still a bit to the right... She was only fifty-one percent sure that she hated him.

And somehow, that didn't seem like a bad thing.

OoOoO

Harriet expected the common room to be empty when she returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for her. She was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical.

As she placed her hand in the bowl of Murtlap tentacle essence, she felt a wave of calm push through her body, starting from her hurt hand.

Unfortunately, some fifteen minutes later, that wonderful bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed, when Harriet stood up to scream at her two best friends. The two of them had been going on and on about how she was a powerful witch, and how she was the best in duelling, and how she should probably take DADA classes for other students.

That set her off.

Without really paying attention to what she was saying, she yelled at them, about how it was pure luck that had saved her, about how it felt to be a nanosecond away from being murdered, or tortured, or watching a friend die. She yelled at them about Diggory, and how their remarks made it sound like she was a clever little girl to still be alive, while Diggory was dead because he was stupid. She yelled at them about Voldemort, and slowly, she felt lighter.

She felt as though someone had taken something off her chest, but that sense of relief was short lived. Hermione's face looked stricken, while Ron looked aghast.

As she sat down, still breathing hard, she became aware of her throbbing right hand.

As Ron tried to clarify his earlier sentences, and Hermione said Voldemort's name (as opposed to her usual stuttering of You-Know-Who) for the first time ever while making her statement, Harry felt herself truly calm down. Which was why when Hermione asked Harriet to at least think about such classes, she nodded, feeling ashamed. She hardly knew what she was agreeing to, though.

Harry repaired the smashed bowl, bid Ron a good night, and went upstairs to her dorm, along with Hermione.

However, it was not in Hermione's nature to be very patient. When both of them had changed into their pyjamas, Hermione moved to Harry's bed, and stared at the green-eyed girl pointedly.

"What?"

"Your hand hurts, doesn't it?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"That's because Murtlap essence removes the action of any and all numbing spells."

"What makes you think I had a numbing spell in the first place?"

"If you hadn't had a numbing spell on it, I would have figured out what Umbridge was doing last Friday itself. So quit lying to me." She paused, before continuing with an uncharacteristic twinkle in her eyes, "So, no monogrammed handkerchief today?"

"Hermione..."

"It's a Slytherin we all hate, isn't it?" She looked sombre now, though.

"Hermione..."

"Damn it, Harry! Why won't you tell me outright who it is?" she asked, impatient as always.

"Well, why don't you tell me about your feelings towards a certain male Weasley?" asked Harry, feeling particularly clever.

"I don't like Ron!" cried Hermione, her voice shriller than usual, and her face slightly pink.

"Who said Ron is the only male Weasley in the school right now?"

Hermione glared at her, and Harry felt a smirk form on her face.

"Looks like someone is rubbing off on you," she said finally, moving back to her own bed.

"What?" asked Harry, as Hermione turned off the lamp. The room was now cast in darkness.

"Your smirk... It was disturbingly similar to a certain Slytherin's smirk."

Harry rested her head on her pillow, and after a few moments, asked, "Hey 'Mione. No matter what I do, we'll always be friends, right?"

When Hermione didn't reply for a while, Harry wondered if she had fallen asleep.

"We're more than friends, Harry. We're family. I'll always be there for you." And then, as an afterthought, Hermione added, "Even if you decide to date a Malfoy."

Harry threw one of her spare pillows at the figure in the neighbouring bed, as that figure buried itself under the blankets, giggling.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, 'Mione," called out Harry sleepily, before drifting off to sleep, dreaming about grey eyes and Murtlap tentacles.

OoOoO

Over the next three days, Draco Malfoy fell into a pattern where he met up with Harriet Potter every night after her detention with Umbridge.

He would cast the pain numbing spell and the blood clotting spell, and they would just lean against the wall of their corridor, as he liked to call it, and talk about nothing in particular. After some time, he would walk her up to that dratted staircase, where she would wait till he turned left and actually left the place, before going up to her common room.

On Wednesday, during the Care of Magical Creatures class, when Professor Grubbly-Plank asked them to pair up again, he had dragged Potter off with him, despite there being plenty of Bowtruckles left on the table. She had announced in her bratty voice that that was him using his first 'Get-Out-Of-Pansy's-Clutches Card', after which she had seen his confused look, and said that it was a Muggle thing.

Before class ended, he had quietly given her a bottle of the best quality Scrivenshaft ink that he normally used, with a note attached to it, saying 'For last night.' She had read the note, figured out the innuendo, and had rolled her eyes, before rewarding him with her a brilliant smile. And that had left him feeling breathless.

On Thursday, when he had seen that Potter's face was glum after being called a liar by that Irish boy in her House, he had thrown a salamander tail into Longbottom's cauldron, when Longbottom was in the ingredients room. The cauldron had burst, spewing its volatile contents onto the Irish boy, giving him warts on the face.

All the Slytherins had laughed, and Draco had smiled when he had seen that Harry and her two stupid friends were also laughing. Snape had been all too happy to remove points from Gryffindor, and he had refused to let Finnigan (Aah, so that was his name) to go to the hospital wing.

When Potter caught his eye, she had smiled at him, and when he winked at her, she had positively beamed at him.

And today, when Potter had fallen asleep during History of Magic, he had answered her attendance call, much to Weasley's astonishment, Granger's and Blaise's amusement, and Pansy's annoyance.

But now, walking back to the Slytherin common room after walking her to their staircase, he felt dreadful about the upcoming weekend. Come Monday, he would no longer have an excuse to spend time with Harriet Potter, unless she opened her idiotic mouth and got into trouble once again. And it wasn't as though he could just go spend time with her over the weekend. The entire castle would have a fit if he was ever seen doing that.

And to add to that dread, were his feelings of confliction. All along, he had known what he was supposed to do. But now, he didn't know what the fuck he was to do.

Initially, he had been trained to become a proper Pureblood Malfoy patriarch and handle the family's various businesses. But then, last summer, the Dark Lord had made his return, and it had been decided that eventually, he would join the Death Eaters.

But now, that position of a Death Eater did not seem too enticing, the way it had a few months back. He supposed that he would make a lousy Death Eater, considering his newly bourgeoning friendship (could it be called that?) with their nemesis, Harriet Potter.

Wrapped up in such thoughts full of angst and emotions, he opened his bedroom door, to find a roll of parchment on his green duvet.

He went straight to it, and picked it up.

.

'Drakie-poo,

If you're reading this message, it means Dobby has done his work properly. I don't know if this is how you got the house elves to place those notes, but I had Dobby place it in your room.

Anyway, I'm rambling, as usual. What I wanted to ask you was, would you like to meet me in the library tomorrow at five pm. You think you can manage that, with your Prefect duties?

It's an oui-non question. And your answer is supposed to be oui.

As of the time at which I write this letter (or is it a note?), I haven't had today's detention yet. In case we fight tonight, consider this library meeting cancelled.

Yours charmingly,

A French Learner.

P.S. Do you want your handkerchief back? My female friend knows it's yours. What kind of a prat gets his hankie monogrammed? '

.

And suddenly, just like that, the weekend didn't seem so dreadful, after all.

OoOoO

End Note:

The phrase 'no shit, Sherlock' probably did not exist in 1995, but anyway, just go with it. I usually like stories to correspond perfectly with the period in which they're set in, even the trivial details. And I don't know when the term came into vogue, so I ask you to go with it.

Review responses:

Thanks harryislife, lumusmaxima77, Nataly SkyPot, BrownieTheFangirl, Raven097, ptl4ever419, Littlest1, Ern Estine 13624, GiuliaZe, LyraStarlight, myafroatemydog, Sharon, Little. Ms. Lonely, Hikari. Kuro 1994 and Lola for your reviews. They're much appreciated.

I'll reply to them all in some time. Thanks, once again. :)

Sharon: Thank you! :)

Lola: I used to ship Dramione like crazy, till I was converted to HHr. And then it became Drarry, and here we are today. I always used to read Dramione fics filled with heartbreak and angst for some masochistic reason – it was just a phase, I guess. So I haven't read Footnotes, but you've made me curious. However, for safety's sake, I'll read it once I've written the entire Fifth Year of this fic. Thank you so much for your kind words. They mean a lot. :)

AN: Reviews are love! I hope to update once more this month.