A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters or any of the books. J.K.Rowling has that honour

HERMIONE

Ron shuffled over to the Gryffindor table, muttering under his breath. I caught snippets of "Stupid professor …. no free time.. potatoes and pumpkin….. essay!" He slumped down onto the bench, before a look of pain crossed his face. He sat up and pulled a wand out from underneath him.

"Who owns this?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so glad you found it. I've been looking everywhere for … eek!! Neville cried as he cradled his snapped wand.

"Calm down Neville, " I said over my pumpkin juice. "Reparo." I looked back at Ron, but he had buried himself in steaks and mince pie. Harry sat down, and I looked to him for an explanation.

"Double Divination." He shrugged

"Try saying that 20 times fast." I joked.

"Double Divination, double divination, double divination…" Fred and George grinned from across the table.

"Trawnley's set a 12 inch essay on 'tea leaves, tea reading and the mysteries they behold." Next to me, Ginny nearly shot pumpkin juice out of her nose as Harry uses his fingers to frame his eyes. I giggle, as I notice Professor Trawnley sitting at the staff table, twisting a coffee cup around and peering into it hopefully.

"End of first week and she's already set more homework than Snape." Ron mumbled into his mashed potato.

"Okay, that explains most of your rants, but what about the 'potatoes and pumpkin?"

Ron looks up, his cheeks stuffed full of mashed potato. He swallowed. "I dunno. Must've been thinking through my stomach." He grinned.

"Double divination, double divination!" Fred and George said with finality. I ignore them.

"Well, I'm going back to the Gryffindor common room to relax." I say, gathering my books. "Say it 20 times in one breath." I challenge, leaning across the table. Fred and George breathe deeply.

"Double Divinations, double divination.." I sling my bag over my shoulder. "Coming?" Harry and Ginny stand up; Ron quickly shovels more pumpkin into hi mouth before standing up.

I walked away from the table as Fred and George started to go pink cheeked and cross-eyed.

HARRY

"You're a…" Ron consulted his sheet. "Loggerheaded fat kidneyed dewberry!"

"Well you're a tottering toad-spotted pigeon-egg!" I grinned. Hermione looked up from her Ancient Ruins essay, but returned to it after seeing the grins spread across me and Rons face.

"And Fred is a puking onion-eyed miscreant." Ron called as Fred and George crawled through the portrait hole.

"Hey what did I do?" Fred held out his palms innocently.

"Hey, shut up George, you warped elf-skinned hugger-mugger." Harry and Ron were rolling around on the common room carpet. Hermione looked up from her work, she opened her mouth to criticize the 'elf-skinned' remark, but closed her mouth and went back to her work.

"What are you guys doing?!" Cried George, looking to Fred for some kind of answer. "Is there magic here at work, or just stupidity?"

I waved a piece of parchment in the air. "History work. Professor Binns gave us a list of Shakespearian insults!"

Ron rolled over onto his stomach. "Only good that that old ghostly buggers ever done in that class."

I sigh. "Yeah, that old goatish common-kissing boar-pig." Fred and George joined in with Ron and me this time. Even Hermione, despite herself, hid behind her textbook to conceal her giggles.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I sat up and looked at Fred and George. "So care to explain the reasoning for the 5th floor incident?" Fred looked at George, looking for an explanation. George looked at Fred, looking for the same. They turned to me and shrug.

"Wasn't us!" They looked sincere. "Don't even know what you're talking about. Spill the details!" Their eyes glinted in the light from the fire, and they seemed eager for a bit of mischief.

"Nothing really, just that some one hexed Filch, so that he thinks he's a turkey. Mrs.Norris was chasing him around the 5th floor while he flapped his arms and gobbled. I think she wanted to eat him!" I collapsed into an armchair, clutching my sides. Ron was re-enacting Mrs.Norris while George ran around gobbling. Fred was doing a victory lap and high-fived everyone in the common room. When he reached Hermione, he froze. She glared at him over her 'Ancient Runes' book.

It's not funny." She snapped her book shut, which silenced George and Ron. "The poor man is probably very confused and didn't have a chance to defend himself, being a squib." Hermione stood and made her way towards the portrait hole.

"Wait, Hermione." I stood up. "I haven't told you the best bit. Filch was..uh.. trying to fly down the stairs. Mrs.Norris pounced to try and catch him and Malfoy was coming up the stairs and copped a feline to the face! He fell down 3 flights of stairs - with the cat!" The common room erupted again and Hermione swung out of the portrait hole.

HERMIONE

Looking at Malfoys unconscious body should've made a feeling of happiness well up inside me. Instead, I couldn't help feeling extremely guilty. And somewhat attracted to the peaceful look he had. Standing at the foot of his bed, I was surprised when his eyes flew open. He looked frantically around the hospital wing, before resting on me. He groaned, before leaning over the side of the bed and vomiting in a bucket. Any traces of attraction immediately vanished. Sitting back in his bed, he swiped his hand across his mouth.

"Come to see me at my worst, eh Granger?" He looked at me defiantly.

I shrugged. "No, just came to see if it was true. 3 flights of stair, eh? Must've hurt."

"Yeah, well. I have been better." He tried to sit up, but flopped down on the bed, groaning. "Here." I moved beside his bed, careful to be on the opposite side to the vomit. I grabbed some pillows from the bed next to his and gently lifted his head to prop him up.

"This is the way it should be: Mudbloods serving purebloods." He smirked. I pulled the pillows out and dropped his head onto the bed. He groaned and clutched his stomach.

"Will you be nice, or should I just go?" I watched Malfoy softly moan. "Okay, okay." He begged.

"Alright then." I pulled him up so he was sitting upright.

"Thank you." He mumbled. I sat down in the chair next to his bed, drawing my knees up.

"I suppose you want to give me all my homework."

"Lets not talk about homework. It makes me feel guilty about the Runes essay I didn't finish." Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

"Granger, not finishing homework? I must be in a coma." I couldn't help but laugh, I mean, he was in the hospital wing. I fiddled with the flowers and cards surrounding the bed. Picking up a card at random, I blushed and flung it on his bed.

"For you, from Parkinson." Malfoy blushed as he saw the photos of Pansy wearing lacy underwear blowing kisses at the cameras. I grinned. Malfoy pushed the photos off the bed. I heard a soft 'squish', meaning they had landed in the vomit.

"What, Pansy doesn't do it for you anymore?" I batted my eyelashes in an imitation.

"She's a nice girl, but.. been there done that." He glanced over at me. "I mean, " he hastily added. " I dunno, I'm just not attracted to her anymore."

"Ohh, Malfoy's got a crush!" I threw a cushion at him. He caught it and lobbed it across the ward.

"So what if I do?" I put the cushion in my hand down.

"Really?" A pillow caught me in the face. I heard Malfoy laughing.

"Gotcha!" I glared at him but couldn't hide my smile. "I don't need crushes. I've got all the girls I need falling at my feet." He smirked.

"Yeah, but they don't mean anything do they? They just make you fell worth something." I stared blankly at the flowers next to his bed, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. I prepared myself for Malfoy to scream, shout, to call me a 'filthy mudblood.' He didn't.

"Shit. I've never heard it put like that." He looked at me, and I saw that he'd smirk had vanished. "Shit." He said slowly. I didn't say anything, just stared at him fixedly, trying to figure out what he was thinking. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, before I heard him sniffling.

"Are you crying?" I asked, relishing in the moment.

"No!" He snapped. "My nose is running and it won't stop." He wiped his nose with his hand. "Fuck! It's blood!" He started writhing and fidgeting on the bed. "What's going on?" Am I dying? Granger! I'm dying!! Help!" He screamed. I looked around for Madam Pomfrey, but the door to her office remained closed. I grabbed a handful of tissues, pulled the pillows out from under his head. I tried to stop him flailing but he seemed convinced he was dying. I sighed. I had taken a first aid course over the summer holidays, and knew what I had to do to restrain him. I climbed onto the bed and sat on Malfoys stomach, pinning his arms down with my knees. Malfoy looked at me, fear and surprise mixed across his face. "Shut up." I threatened. I titled his head back and pressed the tissues onto his nose. His body seemed to relax. "You're not dying. You have a nosebleed. It's perfectly normal. And before you ask, no there is no spell to fix it. So you'll have to rely on muggle procedure: tilt your head back, use lots of tissues, and don't blow your nose!" Malfoy opened and closed his mouth, for once in his life he seemed to have nothing to say, insult or otherwise. I'm not sure what surprised him more: the shock that he wasn't dying, the horror of using muggle medicine, or the fact that I was straddling his chest. I preyed that no-one would walk in at that moment. Sitting there in silence, I looked into his silver eyes (which were intently locked onto me) trying, again, to figure out what he was thinking.