So far:

Draco wants in on the Twins' business, and also wants a way to get rid of Pansy. Draco might also want to snog the living daylights out of Harriet Potter, his secret tutor, but that's probably because someone's doused him with a befuddlement draught. Obviously. Why else would he find himself attracted to that Gryffindork? And then there's that autobiography she gave him, which makes his head hurt from all the thinking he has to do. Are Purebloods really as terrible as these American Muggles described there? Is it too much to want the Yule holidays to be here already?

NOTEWORTHY BOREDOM

CHAPTER 9

UNPLANNED EAVESDROPPING

"Boys."

"What's up, Harry?" asked Fred and George at the same time.

"Hypothetically, there's someone who's willing to invest in your company. And the person wishes to be a silent partner, but isn't willing to share their identity with you. Would you be interested in having another investor?"

The jovial look the two had sported earlier now disappeared, and a serious look overtook their features. Harriet recognised it as their 'business face'. Sometimes, she felt that the twins should have been sorted into Slytherin.

"And there are no strings attached?"

"Of course there are. The potential investor would like free products from you from time to time, and would occasionally ask for certain products to be developed – all within your capacity of creation. So what do you think?"

They exchanged a glance, before turning back to her.

"Hypothetically, we'd accept, for the time being."

"And if I were to tell you that this isn't really a hypothetical situation and there really is someone interested in investing?"

"How much is this person willing to invest?"

"To quote them, 'Gold is not a problem.'"

The twin on the left whistled, while the twin on the right asked, "And how will this person contact us?"

"I'll be handling all communication between you and that person," she said confidently, wondering if the arrangement would work out in the long term. Fred and George were bound to find out eventually, and when they did, they'd be baying for her blood.

"We need time to think, Harry," they said at the same time, as if they'd rehearsed saying that line together a million times before this.

"Wonderful," she replied, giving them a smile before hopping off the armchair and making her way to the portrait door. At least they hadn't outright rejected the offer.

OoOoO

Draco was serving himself some hash browns, when the owl post arrived that morning. After having the lousily bland hospital wing food last night, he was genuinely glad to be back in the Great Hall for his meals.

Hermes dropped a clumsily rolled parchment next to his goblet of pumpkin juice, surprising him. He hadn't yet replied to his parents' earlier letter, so it was obviously not them sending a reply through Hermes. Also, it wasn't really like them to send their replies on such scrap pieces; they preferred using parchments with the Malfoy letterhead and envelopes with the Malfoy insignia.

The familiar chicken scratch made him smile briefly, as he unrolled the letter. Or rather, note.

.

'They said they need to think about it. Meet me in the library this evening to figure out an alternative plan? I can't wait to do this!'

.

Draco crumpled the parchment and stuffed it into his pocket before Pansy could lean over and see what was written in it. She had an annoying habit of trying to read his letters, despite his having told her on numerous occasions to not stick her nose into his affairs.

He looked over towards the Gryffindor table, as though he was just looking in that general direction, when he was in fact looking for a particular black-haired witch. And when he caught her eye, he nodded ever so slightly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Hermes is such a good boy, isn't he?" cooed Pansy, trying to stroke the owl. Draco tried not to snigger when Hermes tried to viciously bite Pansy's finger.

"Owww," howled Pansy, drawing away her hand, as Tracey laughed outright, prompting Blaise to smirk.

What was this? Did Blaise fancy Tracey?

This warranted further investigation.

He noted that Harriet was watching the whole thing, a sneer on her face. It was not an expression that he'd seen on her face much before, and though it made her look older and more refined, he couldn't help but think that he liked it better when she smiled genuinely.

"I could have nearly lost a finger!" exclaimed Pansy, though there was not even a scratch on the finger she'd thrust under his nose.

"How come you don't paint your nails different colours like some of those Halfblood witches?" he asked, regretting it the second the question had left his mouth.

Blaise was regarding him curiously, while Tracey simply sipped on some coffee, looking at him with a rather bored expression on her face. She was probably waiting for Daphne to join her.

"Because it's a ghastly Muggle thing to do to one's fingers. But if you want, I'll paint them for you, Drakie. You like green, don't you?"

Draco wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, as Blaise let out a whoop of laughter.

Bastard.

OoOoO

"Hi partner!" Draco heard her call out to him, as she joined him under their tree in the COMC class, as he stood behind the rest of the students. He was ready for the class, a hungry Bowtruckle held safely between his hands, while the others were still picking out theirs.

"Harriet," he greeted her politely, not wanting to take his attention off the writhing creature he was holding. He didn't fancy getting bitten by a Bowtruckle the way Po- Harriet had a couple of weeks back.

"Three more classes, and we'll be done with these blighters," she announced cheerfully.

"Two, if you don't count today," he told her, to which she hummed absently, staring at the Groundskeeper's cottage, apparently lost in thought.

Professor Grubbly-Plank started calling out instructions on how to properly feed a Bowtruckle, but Draco wasn't paying attention. He was too busy staring at the sapphire earrings that adorned a certain Gryffindor's ears, liking how the tiny stone sparkled whenever she moved her head.

He supposed the older witch must have finished her explanation, because Harriet started speaking once again, turning to face him completely. He was thankful to the deities and spirits that he could spend time with Harriet in public without drawing the attention of the other students. Grubbly-Plank deserved to be blessed by Morgana.

He was brought out of his musings when he found Harriet staring at him oddly.

"What?" he asked her, wondering if his hair was not slicked back. He wanted to run a hand through his hair just to be sure, but he didn't want to risk holding the twig-like creature with just one hand; he wasn't masochistic in the least.

"I asked you if you wanted me to get the rotting lettuce leaves to feed it," she said, her eyebrows raised.

"Uh, yeah," he said, blinking. Something was wrong with him today. He'd been off kilter right from the moment he'd woken up – he'd taken ten minutes to tie his tie, he'd spoken to Pansy without filtering himself, and now, he'd been too distracted by her.

It was all her fault, really. He'd been up the previous night, reading more of that autobiography she'd given him. His previous feelings of strong confusion from Friday night had returned. Were the Purebloods as bad as these 'racist' Muggles? But Pureblood theory was not baseless, was it?

He'd asked himself the same questions so many times, and he hadn't come to any satisfying solution. He was still stuck. He was only going in useless circles, and was no closer to getting mental peace. So whenever he could, he avoided thinking about the book she'd got him.

"Draco, you okay?" came a voice from his left, and he turned around to see that Harriet had a very concerned expression on her face.

"I'm fine," he mumbled not sure if he liked how she was looking at him. He liked that she was looking at him that way, but he didn't like the fact that he possibly came off as being weak. He wasn't weak, by Merlin's beard! He was just having an off day.

But a voice in his head, suspiciously like his father's, reminded him, 'Malfoys are always at their best, come rain or shine.'

Harriet was still looking at him unconvincingly, as if she knew something was wrong with him.

'What, Potthead, didn't your stupid Muggle family teach you it's rude to stare?" he spat out at her, but she scoffed and shook her head, not raising to the bait.

"You know what? I think you just need to sit down, take a few deep breaths and clear your head, while holding that Bowtruckle. And I'll feed it, and we'll get an 'E' on our practical work today, alright? Now sit," she finished, pulling at his sleeve's robe, settling down onto the ground.

Draco copied her actions, though more gracefully, and wondered if he'd been given a confusion draught by any chance.

Because as Father always said, Malfoys indeed didn't have off days. They were always, always at their best, come rain or shine.

OoOoO

"I almost thought you wouldn't turn up," she said, as he strode into their secluded area of the library, dressed in emerald green Quidditch robes. Harriet didn't think her pride would take it if those slimy snakes won the cup this year; it was a good thing that Angelina was working them hard.

"I thought I'd go to practice directly and let you figure it out, but then I remembered that day when I waited for you after your detention and you never turned up. I'm just a better person than you are," he sneered.

Harry rolled her eyes, but felt her face heat up. She'd felt awful about leaving him like that, but he'd been the one who'd been so prejudiced against Muggles.

"Looks like you're back to normal now," she said instead, quirking her eyebrow, a facial expression she'd learnt from him.

"Listen, I really don't have time to speak to you right now. I would have sent you a note, but I figured this was quicker. Shall we do this tomorrow?"

Harriet wanted to be jovial and make some witty remark, but there was this tiredness in her which made her just nod her head wearily.

"Same time?" she asked.

"I'll see you later, Potter," he said in a hurry, as he glanced at the silver watch he was wearing. Maybe it was high time she bought a wrist watch as well? With the Hogsmeade trip this weekend, she could easily buy it. Hermione would probably know all there was to know about magical wrist watches!

"Won't someone find it odd that you're in the library in your Quidditch robes?" she called out to him as he was leaving.

The blond prat paused and turned his head partially, such that she could only catch only half of his smirk.

"I'll just take a Quidditch Through The Ages," he said cockily, before disappearing into the aisle of books. Harriet glared at the spot where he'd disappeared, till she realised that she had nothing to do.

By now, Harriet knew that keeping herself idle was the worst thing ever, because her mind often dwelled on the dark things that had happened last year in the graveyard. That was why she clung to her soothing methods of acting like a child and making impulsive decisions – it was her coping mechanism. Maybe it was unhealthy and emotionally stunted, but it helped her get through the day, and that's what mattered.

Would Cedric have been alive if she hadn't done the decent thing and offered him the Cup as well? Would her (absent) selfishness have saved him? Was it really Voldemort's fault, or did she deserve a part of the blame too?

Feeling gloomy, she was finally got up from the armchair and was about to go down to the kitchens to get some tea and biscuits, seeing as Hagrid wasn't back yet, when she noticed that Neville was standing by a window, staring at the sun as it set.

"You all right?" she asked, wondering what the boy was doing in the library, without a book in hand.

Neville jumped a little, visibly surprised, before stammering, "N-nothing, Harriet. I was just thinking."

"Do you want someone to talk to?" she asked, feeling bad immediately.

Neville didn't really have a best friend as far as she knew. She was with Hermione and Ron. Parvati and Lavender were soul-sisters or something like that, Eloise and Fay were besties, as were Seamus and Dean. It wasn't like any of them ignored Neville intentionally, but she often felt bad for the boy. He had helped her with the Second Task earlier this year, even if it had been at Crouch's prodding.

"There's this girl that I think I like," he mumbled, his face turning a flaming red. Harry tried not to smirk and scare away her fellow Gryffindor; she wanted to know more, though she had an inkling about who it could be. So she looked at him patiently and tilted her head slightly to her left, to encourage him.

"I thought I could ask her out to Hogsmeade," he continued in a shaky voice, and Harry decided at that moment that her friend needed some tea and biscuits as well.

She dragged him out by the sleeve, hoping that the twins and Ron wouldn't mind her showing Neville where the kitchen was.

OoOoO

Harriet didn't know what to do – Hermione and Ron had decided to visit the library with her, and she had no way of contacting Draco to let him know that the meeting was off. She felt so stupid; why had she had to announce that she was going to the library?

Ron had been sneaking off to practice Quidditch before making the team, and she hadn't really noticed, had she? So there was a very good chance that they wouldn't have noticed that she was gone – at least, Ron wouldn't have noticed. Hermione would have just shot a questioning glance, made some supposedly witty observation, and would have left it at that.

"Is there a problem, Harry?" asked Hermione, an eyebrow arched.

Ever since Ginny had taught them the spell to shape their eyebrows, Hermione's eyebrows were always perfectly shaped and it annoyed Harriet. She couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't as good at ordinary day-to-day charms.

"What? Nothing," she quickly said, before snatching her bag and making her way to the portrait door. "You coming?" she asked imperiously, pausing at the entranceway.

"Is it your time of the month?" she heard Ron ask, and smiled despite herself when she heard Hermione smack the wizard's head.

As the three of them made their way out, with Ron rubbing his head, he asked, "What was that for?"

"Ron, you never ask that to a girl, alright? It's rude, disrespectful, mean and humiliating to women everywhere. You're attributing their annoyance to a bunch of hormones, and that's equal to trivialising their actual feelings. I admit that around their monthly period, women do tend to get moody, but that's just how their body is engineered. They can't help it, and the least you can do is not be so blunt about it, and instead make them feel better by respecting their views, regardless of what triggered that response. And for your information, Harry isn't on her period. I would know, seeing as she's my roommate. And she eats three chocolate croissants for breakfast whenever she's menstruating."

Harriet scowled when she heard Hermione's monologue's end, and resisted the urge to bang her head onto the wall. Knowing her luck, she'd get a concussion, and Voldemort would probably use it as an opportunity to flood her head with pain and terrible images.

"What are hormones?" asked Ron, thankfully ignoring the last part of what the bushy-haired girl had just said.

"Heavens, Ron, I forgot how uninformed wizards and witches traditionally are! I'm so glad you asked, because it's a shame, going through life without knowing the beauty of Science."

And as Hermione launched off into her next monologue, Harry couldn't but help chuckle lowly at Ron's expression of part distaste and part fear, as he listened carefully to a mini-lesson on how the human body worked.

OoOoO

Draco was in an unexceptionally good mood.

In Transfiguration class today, McGonagall had told him that he was now ready to Vanish kittens, while most of the Ravenclaws he shared class with were still struggling with their mice and snails. Moreover, the symptoms of that Confoundment spell that he seemed to have been under yesterday had disappeared. And most importantly, soon, very soon, Pansy would be head over heels in love with someone who wasn't him.

Life had never been better.

As he walked towards the library, he contemplated whistling, but then remembered what his mother had said – that only commoners whistled, not Pureblood scions.

When he rounded the corner, he bumped into a small figure.

"Draco! Are you going to the library?" asked Astoria excitedly, clutching some books to her chest. Draco knew her through Daphne, and though he knew that she was a sweet kid, he also knew that she had a massive crush on him. And Blaise exploited that to tease the younger witch mercilessly.

Generally, if he spoke more than ten words to her, she'd blush and run away.

"Yes, I've got some homework," he answered, to be polite. He had a feeling that if he were rude, she'd burst into tears. And wouldn't that be one hell of a mess to deal with?

"Oh, okay, bye!" she said in a rush, before stumbling away. Draco smiled broadly at the First Year's actions; she hadn't failed to amuse him, as usual. He wondered if Harriet would find his Astoria anecdotes funny. She probably would, seeing as she found the silliest of things hilarious.

But on the other hand, she might help Astoria come up with some ten year scheme – an elaborate plan to get him to marry the Greengrass girl in ten years' time. He shuddered at the thought of marriage. Who would want to get tied down to one person for the rest of their lives?

Unless it was an arranged marriage or a debtless alliance, there was no point, really. His parents' marriage had been a political one, to unite the Blacks and the Malfoys. But marrying for love? It was just not done, where he came from. The couple might grow to love each other, as his parents did, but basing a marriage on feelings rather than on the benefits it provided seemed a foolish and naïve thing to do.

Marrying for love was equivalent to willingly shackling invisible handcuffs – Morgana! He'd nearly forgotten to make himself invisible.

He whispered the charm, checking once to ensure every part of him had turned transparent, before entering the library. The sight that met him was not a very welcome one, though.

Potter and her stupid groupies were making their way through the Potions aisle, which was in clear view from where he stood at the doorway. Should he stay or should he leave, he wondered.

"What book are you looking for, Harry?" he heard the Weasel ask her as he neared them.

"Asiatic Anti-Venoms," she answered, and for a moment, Draco felt a spark of joy shoot through him. She was using the Potions book that he'd suggested to her earlier today.

"Snape didn't tell us to use that book," said the Mud- Muggleborn, her shrewd eyes narrowed. Merlin knew he despised that girl. She was bossy, annoying and a pain to have as a classmate.

"He didn't," she answered coolly, drawing out the book from the correct shelf. Draco absently wondered if it would be a good idea to put his new nonverbal spell skills to use – he could give the know-it-all some hideous boils on her face or something like that!

"Then why are you taking it?" asked the other witch. Was she always this persistent?

"This is exactly why I hate coming to the library with the two of you. But if I even mildly imply that I want some time alone, you'll throw me all these affronted looks – look, you're doing it again!"

The dark-haired witch strode out of the aisle, further into the library. Draco followed the two morons as they hurried to catch up with their friend.

OoOoO

An hour had gone by, and Draco was bored. Fortunately for him, the chair next to Harriet had already been drawn, so he'd managed to slip in and sit quietly, without drawing any attention. Unfortunately for him, Harriet was a slow reader, which meant it was painful reading the Potions book with her. But it had given him time to routinely reapply the Disillusionment charm (nonverbally, ha!) and cast a Notice-Me-Not spell on himself.

Every now and then, the Weasel had asked some stupid question, and the Muggleborn had patiently answered him. How could Harriet put up with this guy? But then, Harriet too asked rather stupid questions herself, so he could definitely see why they were such bosom friends.

Under the pretext of writing down potion ingredients, Harriet had been writing him a note on a bit of parchment.

'Foie,

I don't know if you came to the library today. I really hope you didn't, because my friends insisted on coming with me, and I don't think they'd have taken well to you sharing a table with them.'

That was about as far as she'd got in the past forty-five minutes.

"I was wondering," said the other witch suddenly, "Whether you'd thought anymore about Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"Course I have," said Harriet grumpily. He found the way her nose flared, for the lack of a better word, cute. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us –"

Draco couldn't agree more. Umbridge was a hag, a hag from the fieriest pits of hell, wrapped up in pink robes, sent to Hogwarts in a basket with a pink ribbon tied to it.

"I meant the idea Ron and I had – Oh, all right, the idea I had, then – about you teaching us," said the other witch, pausing in the middle to glare at the redhead, who looked alarmed.

Wait, what? They wanted Harriet, his personal teacher, to teach them as well?

But he could see the spark in Harriet's eyes as she thought about it. It was apparent that she'd given the topic a lot of thought.

"Well," she said slowly. "Yeah, I-I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" asked the other witch a little too eagerly. Even the Weasel seemed excited about the conversation. He was such a spineless bastard.

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," said the Weasel, throwing in his two Knuts. Ha! Draco already knew that the other wizard was a spineless bastard.

"You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?" asked Harriet, her voice shaking a little.

Privately, Draco felt that it couldn't have all been luck. Going by how well Harriet had taught him nonverbal spell casting the other day, he thought she was a pretty brilliant witch – not that he'd ever tell her.

And if what Granger was telling was true – that she could cast a full Patronus (which he knew from taunting her in Third Year) and throw off the Imperius, Harriet Potter was indeed one brilliant witch, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

The Gryffindor trio continued speaking and Draco listened on in horror as the Muggleborn spoke of Viktor Krum with ease. She was still in touch with Viktor Krum? The same Krum whom he had tried and failed to befriend. Life was not fair!

At least, the Weasel seemed to be pettily jealous, and that restored Draco's humour.

"I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?" said Harriet, after the Muggleborn had tried to make his ally feel better.

Draco wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that there was one more person who would be interested in her lessons – him. But he kept quiet, lest he give himself away.

As the three of them decided to ask all interested students to meet them in Hogsmeade this weekend, Draco made a mental note to crash their get-together. Maybe he could coerce Harriet into teaching him whatever she taught the others?

It wouldn't do to let others get better than him at DADA. He was one of the best, and he had no intention of changing the status quo.

OoOoO

Harry walked quickly to the owlery, her mind whirring with the possibilities of what was about to happen. How would Umbridge react if she knew such classes were going on? She wouldn't take well to it, but what limit would she go to to stop the whole thing?

She absently rubbed the scar on her left hand as she entered the owlery.

Hedwig hooted and flew down to greet her, perching herself on Harry's outstretched arm.

"Hello, girlie, how are you?" she mumbled gently to the snow white owl, patting her head carefully. Hedwig hooted twice in response, and Harriet took that to be a 'I'm fine Harry. I hope you are too. Do you have any treats?'

When she held out a leg for Harriet to tie her note around, the witch laughed.

"No darling, I'll be using a school owl today."

The owl hooted angrily and flew away, as if offended. Harry sighed resignedly. Hedwig was as temperamental as her. Maybe that's why she and Hedwig made such good friends. Would Draco be angry that she hadn't informed him earlier? Would he –

Harriet let out an undignified shriek as Draco's arrogant owl, Hermes, flew towards her head, from where he'd been perched, high upon the rafters.

In contrast to her own high shriek, she heard a voice from behind her calmly say, "Hello, Hermes. And hello to you too, Harriet."

OoOoO

AN:

I started a new femHarry/DM story called A Rose By Any Other Name. It's a soul-swap story. In other words, Harriet wakes up in Draco's body and vice versa, one fine morning. It's light-hearted and reads like a romcom. (No angst, promise.) I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

As always, reviews are love!

Thank you Rori Potter, leopardblack, C'Riverblade, GenderBender25, CrimsonSurvivor, godess bubbles, roro781727, AnnaMerteuil, Ern Estine 13624, Nataly SkyPot, Guest, DreamSlytherin17710, myafroatemydog, L YNAL, horsegirl2784, Theodora Snowbird, Daddy Cool, Bella, patronuswriting, Guest, Daughter of Trickery, Guest, YomuHime, Guest, regulusirius and dhamann7878 for your reviews.

Your opinions matter to me!