A/N: As requested by ObsessivePanda and Windwinder, a fluffy Harmony friendship oneshot :)

This is a CoS missing moment, I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Word count (w/out AN): 1,465

Written for: Disney character comp [Timothy Q Mouse: Harry/Hermione friendship]; Hunger Games comp ["Aim higher in case you fall short."]; Birthday comp [May - birthstone - light fanfiction]; Pairing Diversity Bootcamp [meticulously]; Prompt Mania challenge ["You cannot be serious!"]

Sketches and Essays

Harry/Hermione (Friendship)

"I give up," Harry said, throwing his quill down and rubbing his eyes.

"Harry, you've barely started," Hermione laughed, dipping her quill into the inkpot she was sharing with her friend.

"I'm sorry, but I think I should get credit for even attempting to take this homework seriously."

Hermione's eyes widened. "All homework should be taken seriously, Harry!" she squeaked indignantly.

"Really?" Harry's eyebrows shot up beneath his messy fringe. "In what universe will drawing an illustration for one of Lockhart's books help me defend myself against Dark magic?"

"Professor Lockhart will have a good reason," Hermione sniffed.

Harry stole a glance at Hermione as she meticulously shaded in part of her drawing, eyebrows knitted and her bushy hair just about masking the faint blush that had spread across her cheeks. He knew she'd just point-blank deny it if he made a comment about her fancying their Defence teacher; she could be so stubborn at times.

"What are you smiling at?" Hermione asked, having caught him looking.

"Oh," Harry cleared his throat. "Just wondering what all the girls seem to see in Lockhart."

"He's smart, talented and handsome," Hermione tried to play it off nonchalantly, but Harry knew her better than that. "I- I mean, so some of the girls in our class have said."

"Mm-hmm," Harry said, smirking slightly.

"I wasn't referring to myself," Hermione said.

"I believe you," Harry said.

"I wasn't!"

"Okay," Harry laughed.

"Stop laughing at me," Hermione was clearly on the verge of losing her temper.

"Oh no, I'm not, I promise," Harry said quickly. "I'm just laughing at my awful drawing," he held his 'masterpiece' up for Hermione to see.

She tilted her head this way and that and squinted as she tried to distinguish the two figures. "Which one is meant to be the hag?"

"Hag? It was supposed to be a werewolf," Harry said, holding up his copy of Wanderings with Werewolves.

"Which one's the werewolf, then?"

Harry flipped the parchment and scrutinised it for a while before shrugging and admitting, "No idea."

Hermione burst out laughing, and Harry couldn't help but join in. She had to give credit to him: his work ethic was marginally better than Ron's, who had simply scrawled a stick figure for Lockhart and a squiggly shadow for a ghoul before going to bed.

"Well you never know," Hermione mused. "If you were ever attacked you could just show your assailant that drawing and hope they'd laugh themselves to death."

"Oi," Harry teased. "Let's see yours then."

The smile fell from Hermione's face and she gnawed her lip. "No."

"Oh come on, you've seen mine," Harry said, standing up and leaning across the table in the hope of getting a peek.

"No!" Hermione shielded her parchment.

"Mione, let me see," Harry teased, walking to her side of the table and half-heartedly prying her arms away.

"Harry… stop! That tickles!" Hermione squealed. She wasn't happy that her death-glare was so ineffective when her mouth wanted to smile and laugh. "It's not… finished," she spluttered between giggles.

The homework lay completely forgotten after a while, with the two of them becoming lost in the sound of laughter. It felt nice just to have a moment of just being what they were – children – without thoughts of the Chamber of Secrets, Voldemort or the heir of Slytherin praying on their minds. Harry and Hermione were just two typical school children doing their homework, joking with each other and having fun.

Eventually Harry gave up and slumped back into his chair; he knew that if Hermione was determined for him not to see her work then there was no way he'd be able to challenge her. She could be a little scary at times.

"You don't have to wait up for me, you know?" Hermione said when she noticed that Harry had been sat absently tapping his quill against his parchment. "Watch it – you're giving your hag measles!"

"Werewolf," Harry corrected tiredly.

"Right, sorry," Hermione grinned. "Why don't you go to bed?"

"I dunno," Harry pursed his lips. "I have this niggling feeling that I've forgotten something."

Hermione arched her brows. "Is this 'something' more homework, by any chance?"

"Probably."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly Harry, did you and Ron even bother to look at the timetables I drew up for you?"

"'Course we did… we're just horrible at following them," Harry smiled sheepishly at her.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped.

"Sorry, we just aren't as… driven as you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is this you trying to butter me up so I'll write something for you?"

"Maybe."

"Hmm. How much?"

"Well thinking about it now, I haven't actually started my Potions essay yet -"

"What?"

" - And it's due tomorrow."

"You cannot be serious!"

"'Fraid not."

Hermione groaned, but if Harry wasn't mistaken he caught a flicker of excitement flash in her eyes. When she spoke she maintained her bossy and authoritative tone, but Harry could tell her frustration with him wasn't completely genuine. He didn't think this as technically using her, since she wanted to help, but a small part of him couldn't help but feel guilty all the same.

"Well, I'm not writing any more than the introduction, but I'll leave you my notes on the Wiggenweld potion so you can write the rest," she said, bending down and rummaging in her bag.

Harry's jaw dropped when Hermione resurfaced, and she dropped a pile of at least twenty sheets of parchment in front of him, all completely covered in her small print.

"That's… a lot of notes," he swallowed hard.

"I like to be thorough," Hermione shrugged, unrolling a new sheet so she could get started on drafting Harry's essay. "I aim higher in case I fall short."

Harry prodded one of the sheets with his wand like one would go about approaching some kind of dangerous animal. His heart sank; they were double-sided. Suddenly he had inkling that this was some kind of unspoken revenge on Hermione's part for always seeking out her help with homework. Harry couldn't blame her really, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he'd been set-up all the same.

As Hermione scribbled away, Harry occupied himself by adding measles to the rest of his hag/werewolf creature. When that was done his quill hovered over the scratchy sketch of Lockhart. It was painfully tempting to give him the same hideous complexion as the beast, but Harry assumed such a move would ensure docked marks for not portraying the professor as the perfect specimen of a human he thought he was.

But it would be funny to see his reaction if he did give him measles…

As Harry pondered whether he should listen to that mischievous little voice in his head, Hermione pushed her draft across the table to him.

"There you are," she said. "That should be enough."

Harry blinked behind his glasses in disbelief. In less than ten minutes Hermione had written more in length than the majority of Ron's completed essays.

"Blimey, Hermione," he ran a hand through his hair, consequently making it stick up even more than usual. "I thought you said just the introduction."

"Yes, that is the introduction," Hermione smiled at him, and then yawned. "Well I'm off to bed," She re-packed her bag and grabbed her Defence homework off the table before getting up. "Have fun!"

"I will," Harry grunted sarcastically.

"Oh, and remember to give me back my ink tomorrow," Hermione turned back when she reached the staircase to the dormitories.

"I will," Harry repeated.

"And my notes."

"Yeah, no problem."

"And my quill."

"Bloody hell Hermione, yes I'll return all of your things," Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Goodnight."

"Night," Hermione gave him a small wave and headed upstairs, leaving Harry alone in the common room.

A small smile played on Harry's lips as he listened to her light footsteps fade away. He honestly didn't know what he would do without her. He and Hermione were such close friends that he didn't think he needed to tell her that, but she knew how grateful he and Ron were to her… didn't she?

It was then that Harry realised he'd never thanked her for drafting out his introduction, or even for letting him borrow her notes, or anything else for that matter. He felt awful, knowing that Hermione was probably lying awake crying in her room because he'd taken her for granted like that. He made a mental note to apologise and make up for this tomorrow when he returned her things.

This turned out to be a good decision, because two days later Hermione was lying in a hospital bed: Petrified by the Basilisk and dead to the world. For the first time, Harry and Ron were left alone, and in light of recent events at the school, that thought petrified them too, though in a completely different way.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated :D