"Crookshanks!" Hermione panted, "Come- back- here!" The ginger cat had been leading Hermione, and sporadically other students, on a chase for the past five minutes. So far every effort had been in vain and Crookshanks was showing no signs of tiring. Occasionally he would jump into the lap of a startled second year, or scatter a loudly protesting chess set, but he would always bound away again before anyone could catch him. Hermione's wand lay useless in her dormitory, where it was soaking in overnight Polishing Potion. Harry and Ron were outside, practicing Quidditch.

It had been a very tiring day, what with double History of Magic and an exhausting, although admittedly eventful, Transfiguration. Ron had somehow, no one could figure out just what he did, managed to Conjure a skunk instead of a scarf. Poor creature, it had been frightened out of its wits by all the witchcraft in the vicinity, and had sprayed its stink everywhere. Professor McGonagall had taken ten points from Gryffindor (only ten because it was very difficult to Conjure a mammal) and made Ron interrupt Snape's first year class to get the Dissipating Cordial from him. Ron had come back punching things and muttering to himself, and then everyone had had to leave class to bathe in tomato juice. Just five minutes before, Crookshanks had let out a yowl to make the entire common room fall silent, then came screeching down the girls' staircase, and Hermione was not anywhere near done with the week's homework.

Just then, the worst thing possible happened. Neville Longbottom, having been to the Owlery to ask his grandmother to send him all the things he had forgotten, returned. Hermione did not hear him say the password ("Gobbledegook") until it was too late. The portrait swung open, Neville entered, and Crookshanks seized the opportunity to leap out through the portrait hole and into the hallway. A shriek was heard from the Fat Lady.

Hermione dived through the portrait hole just as it swung shut, looking around wildly. "Please, Crookshanks!" The cat was dashing away from the common room as fast as his bowed legs could carry him.

"Crookshanks, no!" Hermione squeaked. The sight of her cat dashing through the halls at top speed shocked her out of her tiredness. She scrambled desperately after him, imagining all the havoc he could wreak on the school if he wanted to—which seemed to be the case—or what could happen to him once someone finally lost their temper with him.

She chased wildly after him, narrowly avoiding several shrieking students, and almost going right through Professer Binns.

They were just running past an intersection when Crookshanks, apropos of nothing, skidded to a halt. Executing a tight about-face, he then started running again, going right between the legs of a very startled, very frazzled Hermione. He turned left at the intersection they had so recently passed, his tail expanding in a puff of fur. Hermione rushed after, bewildered, as Crookshanks disappeared around a corner.

Much to her dismay, she heard a hiss, then a shout and a curse. "Wait!" she shouted desperately. She rounded the corner.

Now it was her turn to skid to a halt. Malfoy was there with his flunkies (Goyle and Crabbe), who stood there staring stupidly. Crookshanks had latched himself onto Malfoy's leg and was clawing viciously.

Hermione saw Malfoy drawing his wand and panicked completely. "Don't hurt him!" she howled, not even sure to whom she spoke. She hurled herself at Malfoy, thudding into him, and they both toppled over. They landed beside each other, but did not stay that way for long. Hermione pulled herself across Malfoy and at last managed to seize Crookshanks, checking him for any injuries. Drawing him close, she began to catch her breath.

"Granger," came Malfoy's dangerously soft voice from somewhere down by her feet. "I hate to break up such a touching reunion…"

Hermione realized she was lying on top of Draco Malfoy and, giving a little gasp, stood up as if she had just fallen into a puddle of bubotober pus. Clutching Crookshanks to her, she backed away, stumbled, and fell into the big hairy arms of Vincent Crabbe.

Malfoy laughed as she shot up out of Crabbe's arms, looking thoroughly harassed. "Granger, I think you need to go to bed." Crookshanks hissed and spat, trying to get in a swipe at Malfoy. Grin gone, he said, "And take that beast with you." When Hermione, who was in a state of emotional upset, didn't move, he took a step towards her. Or rather tried to, stumbled, and cursed.

"Oh!" Hermione said, looking guiltily at Malfoy's torn robes and thoroughly scratched legs. She reached into her robes for her wand before remembering she didn't have it. Nervously she eyed the three young men before addressing Malfoy. "I—I could fix that if you'd just lend me your wand"

Malfoy laughed in her face.

"Well, it's that or the hospital wing!" she said angrily. "You can't do it yourself, you're rubbish at Healing magic, and do you really want to let them at your scratches?" She gestured towards Crabbe and Goyle.

"All right, Granger." It was not intelligent to trust Crabbe and Goyle with your injuries. "Goyle, take her cat." His smirk had returned. "You can have that creature back when I have my wand."

About to protest, Hermione closed her mouth. She felt guilty for what Crookshanks had done. With soothing words she surrendered her still-hissing cat and took Malfoy's wand. It was thick and had a polished, almost metallic gleam to it, and was about twelve inches. It was heavy.

Kneeling in front of Malfoy to see his wounds more clearly was necessary; close contact was very important in Healing. So she knelt and pushed aside the tatters of his robes, touching his wand to his legs. She began with the left leg; screwing up her nose in concentration, muttering the incantation. Soon she had finished with both legs. "Reparo!" she commanded, and his robes seamed themselves together as if they had never seen a cat.

She handed his wand up to him, then made to get to her feet.

Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her down.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"What" she stopped to swallow "What are you doing?"

Malfoy chuckled. "I think I rather like you down here on your knees in front of me, Granger." Hermione tried to get up again; he pressed down harder, massaging her shoulders with his rough hands. He pulled her toward him. She tried to pull away, but years of Quidditch had given him hard muscles.

Hermione was acutely aware of several facts. The first was that her wand was far, far away from here. The second was that Harry and Ron were even farther away, on the Quidditch pitch. The third was that Crabbe and Goyle went along with anything Malfoy ever suggested.

She felt very small and Malfoy looked very tall. Her eyes darted around wildly, her heart was beating madly, and she let out a small whimper. She felt faint.

The pressure on her shoulders was miraculously relieved; she was freed. "What is wrong with you, Granger?" Malfoy sounded disgusted. "It was a joke."

Hermione, in the midst of scrambling, backing away, stopped tentatively. "A joke?" she asked, reaching for Crookshanks. Goyle waited for Malfoy's assent before gratefully shoving the angry cat into her arms.

"Yes. A joke. They're funny little things that aren't serious. Heard of them?"

Hermione got up. Her legs were trembling; she made them stop. It had certainly not been funny to her, but he hadn't really hurt her, and he had let her go when he had seen that she didn't understand it was a joke…. Perhaps it was Malfoy's idea of a joke. He had been acting really rather nice to her lately. It was true that his jokes weren't funny, but it seemed he was making an effort to be friendly with her. Besides, she still felt guilty over Crookshanks, and last week at Potions. "Yes…well, all right then. Thank you for not hurting Crookshanks. I assure you he will not be getting any cream with his supper for quite some time." The fluffy cat looked at her in reproach. "Well, you deserve it!" she snapped.

Draco smirked. "Ah, Granger, talking to your cat. Like I said before, I think you need to get to bed. Yours or mine?"

Hermione looked up at him in shock.

"Joke…"

She laughed a little. She supposed it was a little funny, at that. She laughed again. He was right; she was tired. "Mine, I think, this time."

Laughing back, he said "Ah, very well then. Never doubt, however, that I shall be asking again."

Hermione walked off, nuzzling Crookshanks. Malfoy probably didn't know how to be very good friends with anyone, but he might be making an effort.

Malfoy studied Hermione's retreating back. It was good that he had so much control, and that he was worn out from her healing. Good for her.