Chapter Six

The seventh year girls' dormitory was quiet, which was just how Hermione liked it. Her four-poster bed was the closest to the window and she always left the hangings open on one side, so she could feel the warmth of the sun on her body. She was usually the first of her roommates to wake up, and she liked to listen to the birds singing and watch the sun rise over the Forbidden Forest.

It was the first day of a new school year, which would usually have Hermione brimming with excitement. She didn't find that at all strange; if anything, she found it extremely odd that others didn't feel the same way, but she'd accepted a long time ago that she was simply different to most. Today, however, was different, and Hermione knew exactly how they felt. For the first time in her life, she was anxious and not at all excited about the upcoming lessons.

There was a very good reason Hermione felt this way: Harry would finally be getting his wand back. The very thought made her grimace. She kicked the covers off her body, allowing the sun to warm her bare legs, and stared at her toes as she tried to control her thoughts.

Professor Dumbledore had personally taught Harry from the beginning of sixth year until the headmaster's death. Harry had told them all it had just been research into Tom Riddle's life, until he'd finally admitted there was more to his lessons than that.

Hermione shook her head, trying to assure herself that everything would be just fine. After all, Harry had no memory of ever casting a simple Levitation Charm, let alone anything that could be considered dangerous. She was just being silly, she told herself, but the nagging doubt that Harry could do something stupid wouldn't leave her brain.

The thought stayed with her until breakfast. She was in the Great Hall, looking through her timetable and nibbling on a slice of toast, when the boy in question finally showed up, with Ron in tow. She couldn't help but stare, and she wasn't the only one. Ron was traipsing towards her, his collar askew, shirt buttons in the wrong holes, and with dark bags under his eyes. Harry's hair was sticking up at all angles, his necktie hanging lose, and he wasn't wearing robes.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at their appearance.

"Mornin'," muttered Ron, not even looking at her as he reached for a plate of bacon.

Harry gave her his most charming smile. "Good morning, Hermione." His tone instantly put her on high alert. Harry rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Tell me, Hermione – have I ever told you how wonderful you are?"

Ron paused eating and frowned at Harry. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"What do you want, Harry?"

Harry's smile didn't falter for a moment as he said, "Can I please have my wand back?"

Hermione hesitated. This was the moment she'd been dreading; she was sure she'd had a nightmare about it. Harry noticed her reluctance.

"What do I have to do?" he said, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione wondered if he'd learnt that trick from professor Dumbledore. She shook her head to clear the bizarre thought.

"I don't want you to do anything, Harry."

Harry looked left and right, before shrugging to himself. Hermione watched as he slipped under the table and resurfaced next to her, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Just what are you playing at, Harry?" demanded Hermione, slightly flustered as he started rubbing circles along her hip.

Harry's smile widened and he leaned in close to her, his lips only inches from her ear. Hermione felt her body quiver; her toes clenched tightly and she struggled not to tremble. She wondered for a second if Harry had stolen back his wand and cursed her.

"I promise not to do anything you don't want me to do," whispered Harry, his breath hot on her ear.

"You won't charm me, Harry," said Hermione, her lie obvious to her own ears. Harry was doing a remarkably good job of charming her off her feet, and he'd hardly said a damn thing! "Here, you can have your wand back."

Hermione retrieved the wand from her bag and handed it to him. A rush of warmth spread through her body as he squeezed her thigh in thanks, before he suddenly ducked back under the desk and sat back in his original place.

"Cheers, Hermione," he said, winking as he snatched a slice of buttered toast from Ron's stack.

"No … no problem," Hermione managed to say, out of breath. Her cheeks were feeling very warm and her legs were trembling now.

Ron looked at her. "Have we had our timetables yet?"

Hermione was very grateful for the distraction. Harry was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was feeling, and he was loving every second of her discomfort. She handed the boys their timetables and put hers into her bag.

"Double Transfiguration first," grunted Ron. "That should be different without McGonagall, eh, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, his attention obviously elsewhere. He was surveying the room and twirling his wand in his fingers.

"I wouldn't know, mate," he said.

"We have Charms after lunch," said Hermione. She'd already memorised the timetable. "Harry, what on earth has caught your attention?"

Harry was looking across the Hall with one eye closed and the tip of his tongue between his teeth.

"That gorgeous blonde Slytherin girl has caught my attention," said Harry. "So has that curvy brunette, that short girl with the big rack, and Ron's sister."

"Harry!"

"Calm down, Ron," said Harry, chuckling under his breath. "Ginny hasn't even come down to breakfast yet."

"Why are you even looking at other girls, anyway?" asked Ron, frowning. "You've already got Parvati, who's one of the best looking girls in the school."

Harry stopped twirling his wand and slowly lowered it to the table. He turned to Ron and gave him a filthy look.

"Have I taught you nothing, Ron?" Harry stretched his arms out wide. "Look around you, man, there's girls everywhere!"

Ron looked blank.

"It's like fishing," explained Harry. "You go to the water and cast out your rod," he winked at Hermione, "and then you'll hook a big ol' fish, but that doesn't mean you stop fishing, does it?"

"But, Harry," bemoaned Ron, "I can't even fish!"

"It's not that difficult," said Harry. "Let me tell you a little secret. Most of these girls have mightily important exams coming up, which will be a very stressful time for them. The pressure will eventually become too much, and that's where I step in, offering to relieve some of that tension for them."

Hermione's skin was burning as she remembered thinking similar thoughts. In fifth year, the OWL's had been coming up, creating tight knots in her body, and all she'd wanted was someone to … give her a helping hand. Hermione flushed even harder as she remembered the long showers she had started taking. In an attempt to hide her scarlet cheeks, she concentrated on eating, but Harry (of course) noticed and couldn't help but comment.

"Hermione knows what I'm talking about!" he said, chortling.

"I have no idea what you mean," said Hermione, refusing to look him in the eye.

She was saved by Ron, who had been deep in thought.

"Hang on a minute," said Ron, his eyes scanning along the table. "If you're seeing Parvati now, what does she think of you looking at other girls?" He looked towards Hermione for help.

"Ron's correct," said Hermione, offering the redhead a smile for actually being considerate to another person's feelings.

"Ron." Harry shook his head and sighed deeply. "You have a lot to learn, my friend."

For once, Hermione disagreed with that statement.

"Harry, you wouldn't cheat on Parvati … would you?"

"I'd say it's pretty hard to cheat on someone who isn't my girlfriend," Harry said. He tipped his goblet towards her, smiling smugly, before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Hermione eyed him critically. "Parvati isn't your girlfriend? Does she know that?"

"Of course she does," said Harry, snorting. "She agreed we should just be casual."

"Casual?" repeated Hermione dumbly.

"Yes. Casual," said Harry, nodding as he started eating another slice of toast. "Parvati said she had a boyfriend once, but it didn't work, and now she just wants the good part of the relationship. Doesn't want any of the baggage, and I have to say I agree with her."

Ron met Hermione's eyes and shook his head. "Where did you find the time to talk about all of that?" he muttered snidely. "I didn't see you do anything but snog her. I didn't think you even knew her surname."

Harry blinked, confusion entering his eyes. "Huh. Who would've thought it? I don't know her surname." Harry began chewing on his tongue as he looked skywards, as though the answer would present itself in the enchanted ceiling. He completely missed Hermione and Ron gaping at him. "It begins with either a B or a P, I think," he murmured. "Ba … Pa … no, it's Ba … aha! I've got it!" Harry punched his arms out in triumph, accidentally flinging his toast down the Gryffindor table, hitting Colin Creevey right between the eyes. "It's Batil. Parvati Batil."

"Patil," Hermione automatically corrected, looking anywhere but towards Colin Creevey, who was looking around in confusion as he clutched his head. That's when she spotted Parvati walking into the Hall. "And speak of the devil, here she comes now."

Harry craned his neck around Ron and smiled widely. "Oh, don't worry, Hermione," he said, sparing Hermione a glance. "There'll always be plenty of room for you in my life. Parvati!"

Parvati came to a stop in front of Harry. Her hair was styled down her back in a way that made Hermione twitch with jealousy.

"Hey, Harry," said Parvati, sliding her arms over Harry's shoulders and planting a firm kiss on his lips. "We'll meet up tonight, yeah?"

"You betcha," said Harry.

Parvati kissed him again before removing her arms from his shoulders. She walked away with a noticeable sway in her hips, which captured Harry's attention.

"You ever seen an arse like that, Ron?" said Harry, sighing. "Fleur doesn't count, of course."

Ron's ears turned pink as he answered, in his best innocent voice, "I wasn't looking, mate."

Hermione scoffed at him and wondered when she'd started partaking in such ridiculous conversations. It was around about the time Harry woke up from his coma. She couldn't remember the last time they'd spoke normally, without him bringing up some ridiculous scheme or boast.

"Harry," she said, wondering where he was going to take the conversation this time. "When you say it's casual, what does that even mean? Have you set up limits or boundaries?"

Harry shrugged, but then looked her dead in the eye, completely serious. "Parvati knows you can't keep a noble stallion like myself to one woman."

"Is that right?" said Hermione, dubious.

Harry nodded vigorously. "Some men are born to be workhorses," he said, jabbing a finger at Ron. "Take him as an example. He's my loyal steed."

"Hey!" complained Ron, but he was ignored.

Hermione was amused despite herself and couldn't help asking, even if she knew she'd regret it, "And what does that make me?"

"I suppose you can be my damsel in distress," said Harry, winking at her. "I'll be your knight in shining armour, rescuing you from the clutches of evil redheads."

Ron bristled at the insult. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"The metaphor is falling apart, Harry. How can you be a knight in shining armour and a stallion?"

Harry bit his lip in thought, before declaring, "I'm an Animagus!"

Ron snorted. "So, you're a horse?"

"Well, I'm hung like a horse as it is," said Harry with a grin. "If you think about it, it only makes sense." He winked at Hermione. "You can ride me any time you want."

Ron started choking on scrambled egg, which Hermione was thankful for, as it took the attention off her. She was blushing so hard, she thought she was about to faint. Harry sent her a knowing smile as he whacked Ron on the back.

"Why don't we head to class?" suggested Hermione.

Ron's eyes were watering heavily and his skin was a blotchy red as he heaved himself to his feet. He muttered to himself under his breath on the walk to Transfiguration, but Hermione ignored him as they entered the classroom.

It was a rather odd feeling, not knowing who would be teaching them. At least in Defence Against the Dark Arts they'd always known beforehand who the professor was. Hermione sat right at the front, lost in her thoughts, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think so, Hermione," said Harry, who was still standing and looking over her head.

Hermione frowned, watching the silent conversation he was having with Ron. The next thing she knew, Ron placed his hand under her arm, Harry grabbed her other, and they lifted her out of her seat and started carrying her towards the back of the room.

"Put me down," she demanded, squirming in their arms, but their grip held steady.

They reached the back of the classroom and they plonked her in the middle of a three-seated desk, before they sat down either side of her.

"We don't want people thinking we're teacher's pets, Hermione," said Harry scornfully.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to pout, and glared severely at a particular groove in the wooden desk. A sharp intake of breath caught her attention and she looked up sharply. All the blood drained from her face when she saw what had caused Harry's reaction.

Fleur Delacour strode into the classroom, wearing elaborate lilac robes. Her blonde hair shining and nose high in the air, she refused to look anywhere near Harry as she stopped at her desk and faced the class. Her lip curled slightly upon seeing the open-mouthed stares. Hermione was just thankful she wasn't sitting at the front. Harry was slumped in his seat, looking like someone had killed his pet, cancelled Christmas, and told him he'd die a virgin.

"Should've stayed at the front," he moaned piteously.

Hermione shushed him, seeing Fleur was about to start speaking.

"I am sure some of you remember me," she started, lifting a perfect, elegant eyebrow. Her English had improved immeasurably, but her accent hadn't quite disappeared completely. "But for those zat do not, I am Professor Delacour."

Fleur flashed a bright smile that had every male drooling. Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"How pathetic can you get?"

Ron had grown somewhat accustomed to Fleur's aura, but he still looked ruddy and flustered in her presence. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"I dunno, Hermione," he said, his lips twitching. "It reminds me of Lockhart."

Hermione's jaw shut with a click and Ron sat back, smug. The only difference between Fleur and Lockhart was Fleur wasn't a fraud. Hermione turned her attention back to the teacher, somewhat abashed, when she noticed Harry. He was half out of his seat and grinning from ear to ear, his dark mood of only minutes before gone. Hermione clamped a hand on his thigh and gave him a warning glare.

"You should 'ave learnt animate to animate Transfiguration by now," Fleur was saying. "By the end of today's lesson, I want everyone to be able to do it perfectly, yes?" Her eyes dared them to disagree and unsurprisingly, no one did. Fleur directed Lavender to hand out the rabbits for them to practice with and only then did she turn her attention to Harry.

"'Ave you performed any spells yet, 'Arry?" Fleur looked down at the messy-haired boy, who shook his head. "Zen I want you to perform a simple spell to begin with. Ze 'eadmistress believes you will retain your skills with practice, even if you do not 'ave any memory of them."

Hermione watched with baited breath. Neither her nor Ron were even pretending to do their own work.

"What should I do?" asked Harry, whipping out his wand with an overdramatic flourish. His hands were shaking in anticipation.

Fearing what he would do, Hermione jumped in with her own suggestion. "Why don't you try the first spell we ever learnt in Transfiguration?"

Hermione told him the spell and Fleur placed a matchstick on the desk in front of him.

"I just change it to a needle?" Harry looked decidedly unimpressed. At Hermione's nod, he eyed the match, cleared his throat, and viciously jabbed his wand, as though it had offended his mother. "Immuto!"

Nothing happened. Hermione was about to comfort her friend when she noticed, to her amazement, the match started growing. She watched as it steadily turned silver and became the size of a wand. Then, it grew rapidly and before anyone could stop it, it became the size of a spear.

"Whoa…" breathed Ron.

"I meant that," said Harry, but no one believed him.

"Per'aps you need to work on your control, 'Arry," said Fleur. She gave him a small, comforting smile and returned to her desk.

Harry blushed a deep scarlet. "No control, huh? I'll show her," he muttered to himself. He stabbed his wand at the spear and with no other movement or incantation, it instantly shrank back to a needle.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "How on earth did you do that, Harry?"

"I dunno," said Harry. He shrugged it off, but it was obvious he was just as confused as Hermione. "I can't really explain it. It's like the magic is there, in the back of my mind, but it feels … wonky. Does that make any sense?"

It didn't. Not at all.

"Wonky?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah. Watch." Harry pointed his wand at the needle again. "Immuto," he cast, and the needle turned into a matchstick, only it doubled in size. "See, wonky. I don't think I even need to say anything for something so small." He jabbed his wand at the matchstick again and it shrank and switched to a needle. "I can't explain it, really."

"Well, you can obviously do it, you just need to practice," said Hermione encouragingly. "Here, why don't you try something harder?" She placed the rabbit in front of him. "Try changing it from white to black. I won't tell you how, you just have to do it."

Harry eyed her for a moment before shrugging. He pointed his wand at the rabbit, saying nothing. The only movement was the rabbit's nose twitching and then all of a sudden it was as black as Harry's hair.

"It's easy," said Harry, and for once he wasn't bragging, just stating the truth.

Hermione couldn't hide her amazement. For beginners, transfiguration at its most basic level was usually done very slowly. A match slowly turned into a needle. The better you became, the faster you could transfigure an object. It was why masters like Dumbledore and McGonagall could make it look instantaneous.

"This is remarkable, Harry! It shouldn't be easy. Not even I can do it as easily as that."

Hermione didn't perform a spell for the rest of the lesson. She was simply too dumbfounded watching Harry perform magic with such ease. He changed the rabbit back to its white colour, before casually changing it into a snowy white owl that looked identical to Hedwig. Then, he lazily flicked his wand and the owl popped into an acoustic guitar. It was even tuned! Ron mentioned always having wanted to learn an instrument, so Harry performed the Geminio Spell (without knowing the spell) and gave it to him. He'd then had the cheek to turn to Hermione and ask her if she wanted one too.

"Hang on a moment, Harry," said Hermione as a random thought popped into her head. "Turn it into a snake. Any one will do."

"When you say a snake," said Harry, eyebrow raised and grin firmly in place, "do you mean—"

"A real snake," interrupted Hermione, trying not to get too flustered.

Harry winked at her, proving he'd said it just to wind her up, and flicked his wand at the guitar. A black snake with white markings popped into existence (a long-nosed viper), coiled on the desk. It raised its head, its tongue flicking out, and its eyes landed on Harry.

"It's beautiful," breathed Harry.

"Speak to it," instructed Hermione. Harry looked at her like she'd just asked him to jump off the Astronomy Tower. "Trust me, Harry. Say something to it."

"Um, hi," said Harry, looking sheepishly at the snake. "The crazy lady next to me asked me to speak to you, but …" his voice trailed off in hisses, but he didn't notice.

The idea had come randomly, but Hermione hadn't truly expected him to still be able to speak the language. She was brought out of her thoughts by Harry forcefully sliding his chair back, nearly topping over the back of his seat. His eyes were wide and he pointed a shaking finger at the snake, which had reared its head. Its jaw was open, and for a moment, Hermione had the bizarre thought that it was laughing.

"It spoke to me!" yelled Harry, attracting the attention of the class. "Hermione, it told me I smell like wasted youth and sexual frustration."

There were a few chuckles before everyone went back to their work; they clearly thought Harry was joking.

"You're a Parselmouth," said Hermione. "You speak Parseltongue, the language of snakes."

"Huh." Harry eyed the snake. "How did I learn it?"

"You didn't," said Hermione. "You gained the ability the night Voldemort tried to kill you."

When Hermione finished telling him the story, he didn't seem all that bothered. He conversed with the snake for the rest of the lesson, chattering happily away about Merlin knows what. By the time they finished and went for lunch, the conversation continued. Harry completely missed the stares he received upon walking into the Hall with the snake wrapped around his forearm. Parvati adamantly refused to sit next to him, but he didn't really seem to mind. Halfway through eating his dessert, Harry finally turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I need to give this mighty fine creature a name, don't you think?" said Harry, patting the snake on the head.

"You're giving that thing a name?" asked Ron, eyeing the snake in disgust. "You're just as bad as Hagrid!"

"I could always call him Ron, but that would probably get confusing," said Harry, ignoring Ron's mutinous glare. "Can you imagine? I'd be saying stuff like, 'Ron woke me up this morning telling me he was hungry'."

Hermione hid a smile as she joined the conversation. "Actually, nobody would be confused if you said that."

Ron rolled his eyes as he shoved a spoonful of custard into his mouth. "What have you been talking about for so long, anyway?"

"He was just telling me how he'd like to grow big enough to be able to swallow you whole," said Harry, subtly winking at Hermione. "He says you look particularly tasty."

Ron paled. "Wh-what?"

Harry cracked up. "You're too easy, Weasley," he said. Even the snake seemed to laugh. "You know what, I think I'll call him Mr Snake. Just Snake for short."

"How original," said Hermione.

Ron muttered darkly under his breath.

"Be thankful Harry doesn't know about your arachnophobia," whispered Hermione, shivering slightly at the thought.

Harry's head snapped up and he stared at them with a mischievous grin. That's what Hermione called it. She shuddered to think what he would have been like had he grown up with James Potter and Sirius Black.

Ron spotted the look on Harry's face and shouted, "Charms!" He swiftly grabbed his bag from under the table and bolted out his seat, heading for the doors.

Hermione followed at a slower pace, reluctantly walking side-by-side with Harry and his snake for company. As they stepped onto the staircase, Harry turned to her.

"Do you want to touch my snake, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed. She'd been expecting him to say something crude and she narrowed her eyes at him, which made him grin widely.

"Don't be shy," he said, laughing. "He only wants you to give him a nice stroke."

Hermione furiously blushed once again and lengthened her stride, failing to ignore Harry's boisterous laughter echoing off the walls.

"Tell your snake it can go and stroke itself!" she shouted. Instead of having the desired effect of shutting Harry up, it only made him laugh that much harder.

A/N Believe it or not, there is a slight plot to this story, even if it doesn't exactly look like it. I know Harry seems far too powerful, using magic so easily like he does in this chapter, but I put it in for a very good reason (and because I think it's funny). Also, his magic is 'wonky'. Remember that. Anyway, thanks for reading. Review?