Author's note: Okay, I admit it. Part of this chapter is a shameless self-insert. Only one of us is in here, but even so... I'll give you a hint: all four of the girls are real, and one of them is one of us. I'll leave you to guess who. And yeah, it's more self-indulgence. -shrugs-
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not JK Rowling's characters, not my skating dress, not my friends, not the music I listened to while writing this (though I can't actually remember what it was...)
--Tamara

Extra Author's note: We've been getting a LOT of anonymous reviews lately. While we don't mind them at all, we would rather you leave an email address so that we can answer you. It makes us feel rather guilty if we can't get into contact. If you really don't feel comfortable giving out your email, we understand, but, otherwise, please do include it. That way, you'll get an email from us, and we'll have the satisfaction of talking to our readers! It's a win win situation!
--Caroline

I had been ecstatic when Granger had suggested going ice-skating. I hadn't skated in years, but at one point, I'd been quite good. A byproduct of being rich was that we had a pond on our grounds. It froze every winter, and I'd practiced for as long as I could remember. Of course, ever since I'd been at school, I'd avoided returning to the Manor over Christmas. The less time I spent there the better. Even so, I was sure that my body hadn't forgotten how to skate. It's the kind of thing that you don't forget.

Harry had never been skating, and Granger had only done a few months of lessons. I informed them that they could rent skates, but that I was going to get my own. Harry looked at me in amazement.

"You have skates?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I have skates. I even have skates that fit." I closed my eyes and pictured the boots, hoping that I could do the long distance summoning. It was more like making an object Apparate to you, and it wasn't hard. In theory. In practice, it required far more concentration than most spells, as well as a very good visual memory.

Even so, several moments later, I held a pair of black designer figure skates. Granger gaped in envy as I checked them to make sure that they were uninjured. A swift charm sharpened the blades again, and I slipped off my shoes to try them on. They felt as good as I remembered. I grinned in pleasure at the feel of the stiff leather against my ankles and feet. This was going to be amazing.

We arrived at the rink and Harry and Granger rented skates while I moved off to put mine on. They joined me a moment later, and I caught Harry furtively watching me to see how I tied them. I laughed. "It's not hard," I said. I demonstrated. He tried. I burst out laughing as he failed utterly. I showed him again, and he once again failed. At his third attempt, I gave up and tied them for him. The contact made my breathing speed up, and I kept my face firmly fixed on his skates to avoid his seeing the blush that stained my cheeks. We were having far too much fun for that to ruin our day. He gasped as I pulled the laces tight, and I grinned again. "Sorry," I said, not sorry at all. "That's the way it works."

"You are cutting off the circulation," he ground out.

I shook my head. "Nope. If you tie them too loose, then they will provide you with no support whatsoever, and you will never get anywhere."

"I'm not intending to go professional, you know," he informed me, reaching down to loosen the laces.

I batted his hand away. "It doesn't matter," I told him firmly. "You asked me to tie them for you, and that's what I'm doing. Now let me do it for you!"

He sighed, but allowed me to attach the other one to his foot and pull it tight. When I was finished, I stood again. He tried to stand, buckled, and dropped back onto the bench. I grinned. He glared at me, and stood again. Sheer willpower kept him upright, and he held his arms out for balance as Granger finished tying her own skates and stood as well. She wasn't nearly as competent as I was, but she managed to stay upright by her own power. Holding Harry between us, we made our way to the ice. I stepped on first, rejoicing in the feeling of once again having ice beneath my feet. I abandoned Harry and Granger and took off, getting back into the rhythm of the strokes and forgetting everything but the pure physical pleasure of skating. I turned easily, testing myself to see just how rusty I was. Not as much as I'd feared, considering. I could stand, I could stroke, and I almost felt confidant to try some of the more advanced moves again. I glanced over at Granger and Harry, making their way carefully around the edge of the rink, and couldn't resist showing off for them. Well, for Harry. I altered my edge, going into a series of almost controlled crossovers and wound into a spin. It wasn't as nice as I'd once been able to manage, but it would do. Coming up slowly, I flashed Harry a grin, deftly switching feet and dipping down once again. Finally, my momentum slowed, and I stepped out of the rotation. I felt dizzy, and closed my eyes, hoping that the world would have stopped spinning when I opened them. I opened them again, and the world had indeed stopped spinning. Instead, it appeared to be filled with girls. Four of them, to be exact. I looked at them warily, trying to place them. I doubted that I knew any of them, or that they knew me, which put them as muggles. All four of them wore good-quality skates, and they were standing easily.

"You're good," one of them, a vaguely Asian-looking one with short black hair commented. She spoke with an American accent, and I had to restrain a laugh at the sound. It was very different from what I was used to. The others nodded.

I shrugged. "I'm out of practice."

A tall brown haired one with glasses grimaced. "Wish I was that good out of practice." She took spoke with that same accent, and, though I know nothing about accents, I judged that they were from the same place.

I grinned, deciding to enjoy myself. "Well, I was damn good before that."

The one with glasses grinned back. "You were modest too, apparently."

"Modesty comes with age."

They exchanged glances, apparently trying to guess how old I was. I let them guess, wondering how far off the mark they would be. The only blond in the group asked, "So what grade are you in?"

"I'm a sixth year."

There was a moment's pause while they calculated this into American grades. The shorter brown-haired one nodded. "Then you're as old as Anne."

I waited for them to realize that they hadn't introduced themselves. Apparently realizing this, the tall brown-haired girl grinned. "I'm the Anne in question, by the way. I'm sixteen. That's Sara," she gestured to the black-haired one, "she's fifteen. Jana's thirteen," this was the shorter brown-hair "and Judaea's fourteen," this to the blond.

"That's convenient," I drawled. "Draco. And yes, I am sixteen. I turn seventeen in June."

Anne sighed. "July," she said. A crafty look came over her face. "I wonder if I can convince my parents to let me have my license by then."

"They should!" Judaea insisted. "You're responsible enough behind the wheel!"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Try convincing my mother of that," she complained. "She persists on thinking that I'll get distracted and crash."

"Sounds a lot like my mother," I said dryly.

Sara looked at me. "Do you have your license yet?"

I shook my head, wondering whether to elaborate. To tell the truth, I had no idea which license they were talking about, though I was certain that I didn't have one.

Anne shrugged. "You live in London, right?"

I nodded. It was close enough.

"Then he won't need one. Lots of people in London don't drive. It's more trouble than it's worth."

"Can't you drive in London?" Jana queried.

"You can," Anne said. "But you can't park, and it's way too expensive anyway. What with the subway and the buses and all, it's a lot easier just to walk where you need to go. My aunt and uncle live here," she told me. "He's a bicycle courier, and she's taken to riding everywhere with him."

They all nodded their understanding. Fortunately, they seemed to have exhausted this topic, because Judaea looked at me. "So how good are you?"

I shrugged. "As I said, I'm out of practice. I used to be rather good, though."

"Do you have you axel?" Judaea queried.

"I used to. I haven't tried yet. Do you?"

All four of them nodded. Anne grimaced. "Mine's not consistent, but I've landed it a couple times." She and Jana exchanged matching eye-rolls. Sara looked smug, and Judaea hurried to reassure Anne that hers would be consistent soon.

Anne sighed. "I doubt it," she said dryly. "Seeing the amount of time it takes me to get most jumps…"

The others exchanged glances, and Anne explained, "I'm not a natural jumper; I'm a spinner. Jumps… well, they don't come naturally to me."

I nodded. "I know how you feel."

"So show us what you can do," Jana said suddenly.

"If I fall over, then I forbid you to laugh," I warned. They all agreed, and I took a deep breath. "And I get to warm up first. I refuse to go into an Axel cold."

"Good point," Sara agreed. "For that matter, I should probably warm up myself. Brian wants to see what I can do."

"Brian's her boyfriend," Jana said, rolling her eyes. I suspected that Anne and Jana were related, but I wasn't sure. All four girls were obviously best friends, and all treated each other like sisters. Maybe they all were. Maybe none of them were related at all. It was impossible to tell.

I started warming up, beginning with the easier jumps and gradually working my way up to the more complex ones. I had, at one point, landed a double axel cleanly, but that had been a long time ago, and I doubted my ability to do so now. It wouldn't do for them all to see me fall over. I hate falling over, even in skating. It's all a matter of pride.

Finally, I couldn't put it off any longer. I skated faster, stepped forward, and put all of my momentum into the jump. It was perfect, and I felt that all too rare sensation of flying off the ice on an invisible broomstick. I landed cleanly, and stopped just in front of where Harry and Granger were watching. Harry let go of the wall to clap, then swiftly grabbed it again. I looked at him pityingly.

"You know, falling doesn't hurt that much," I commented. "Especially if you go fast."

He looked horrified at the thought. "That's all very well for you," he said. "But I have never done this before, and I do not intent to topple over."

I shrugged. "If you say so. Try to make it around at least once before we have to go."

The girls had skated over, and I introduced Harry and Granger. They watched Harry take a few careful steps, then Anne commented, "Not to seem too bossy, but it works better if you don't push with your toes. Trust me, I know." She grimaced at the memory of falls.

"Then where are you supposed to push?" Harry demanded, watching her.

She demonstrated the proper way to stroke, pushing neatly off her edge and extending her leg behind her. She came to a stop and glanced over her shoulder, turning easily around as she did so. "Grace comes with practice," she said. "And with your friends," this was directed at Judaea, who shrugged.

"It's not my fault!"

"Yes it is. I caught gracefulness from you, you know!"

"That's a good thing, though," Judaea countered.

"I'm not saying that it's not. I'm saying that it's your fault," Anne shot back. She grinned at her friends and mine, then took off with a couple of swift, efficient strokes. She moved easily into a series of crossovers, and stepped into a spin. She was a good spinner, though she obviously hadn't perfected the one she was doing now. She leaned back over her upraised leg, raising her arms to the sky. Her momentum slowed finally, and she came out, doubling back to glance at the ice that held the remains of the spin. She grimaced.

Jana skated over to join her. "You're traveling again," she commented.

Anne nodded. "Yup. Better than it used to be, though."

Jana laughed. "That's true," she agreed.

Harry was looking at them in confusion. "What are they talking about?" he asked.

"When you spin, you leave marks on the ice," Sara explained. "Anne's notorious for traveling. Moving while you spin," she added, seeing him about to ask for clarification. "Look." She snapped into a simple spin, held it for several rotations, then came out. "See, that's the trace." She pointed to the spin marks on the ice. "That's the three-turn, and my spin's centered around it." She traced those features as she mentioned them. "Now, if I spin badly," she snapped into another spin, this one far less controlled. She came out of it a little ways away, and skated back. "The spin travels away from the starting three-turn."

"Why's it called a three-turn?" Harry asked.

"It looks like it," Sara explained. "See?"

He bent down to look at what she was pointing at, and promptly toppled over. I laughed, and he looked reproachfully up at me. "It hurts," he said defensively.

"Hurts less if you go fast," Anne called. "Remember?"

"You are capable of going fast," Harry called back. "I've never been on ice skates before."

Judaea shrugged. "You can always learn," she suggested brightly. Sara nodded, and grinned.

Harry looked at me. "Are you going to let me sit here all day, or will you help me up?"

I reached down and hauled him up, grateful that his gloves didn't allow for skin contact. I had no desire for any of the present company to see me turning red. He grinned at me as I maneuvered him back to the wall.

"This may take more practice than I thought," he admitted ruefully.

Anne and Jana, who had come back while I was helping Harry. Anne grinned. "Everything takes practice," she informed him. "But this is worth it."

Granger looked at the girl, balancing easily on her skates. "How long have you been skating?"

She frowned, counting silently. "About six years, I think. Actually, I've been skating since I was about seven, but I didn't do it seriously until I was ten. That's when I met them." She nodded towards the other three.

"Do you compete?" Granger asked.

Anne shrugged. "Some. I'm working on a program right now, but it's not done."

"Do it for us," Harry suggested.

She glanced around, calculating the number of people likely to interfere with her skating. Apparently she found the number sufficiently small, because she shrugged. "All right. Daea? Music?"

Judaea nodded, and skated off to the sides, lightly stepping into the hockey box. Sara and Jana stayed with us, watching as Anne got into position. She glanced up at Judaea, nodded, then looked back down at the ice. Judaea did something to the muggle object that she was bending over. There was a beat of silence, then music began to filter through the rink.

The music was darker, as though telling people that they were frightened and that this was how they should feel. I could sense it in my veins, and I fought the urge to skate to it myself. Instead, I forced myself to watch her. She was decent, I decided. Nowhere near professional level, of course, but very few skaters ever get that far. She felt the music, I thought. I wasn't sure how much she realized it, but I could see that she heard it as she skated. She completed her last jump, lowered her arms gracefully, and bowed her head as the last strains of the music ended.

Harry and Granger clapped enthusiastically. She grinned, skating over to us. She was breathing slightly heavily, and as she approached us, she pulled off the black sweater that she'd been wearing, revealing a black T-shirt with the words 'Fetchez la vache' written in white letters. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"Monty Python," she said. "It's from Spamalot."

Granger's eyes lit up. "Did you see it?"

She nodded. "Last year. Utterly amazing. I had the T-shirt before then, though."

"What's Spamalot?' I demanded.

Anne grinned at me. "You ever heard of Monty Python?"

I shook my head.

Granger glanced at me. "I'll explain later," she told me.

"Well, Spamalot is a play that's been, and here I quote, 'lovingly ripped from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.' Fantastic movie. Better play."

I decided not to ask any more questions. I'd felt ignorant enough for one day.

Harry looked at me, sensed my discomfort, and changed the subject. "Why didn't you ever tell us that you could skate?"

I shrugged. "It never came up. There's nowhere to do it at school, and no rink at the village."

Sara frowned. "You go to boarding school?"

Jana rolled her eyes. "Of course they go to boarding school! This is England!"

They all looked to Anne, who grimaced. "What are you all looking at me for? Ask them! They live here, not me!"

They turned to us, and I turned to Granger. She was the one who knew muggles, not me. She shrugged. "Yes, we go to a boarding school. I don't know how common it is anymore, though."

"Do you have a uniform?" Judaea wondered.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Sara grimaced. "That's not fair," she said. "School uniforms suck!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Do they?"

She nodded emphatically. "Yes. You can't show your individualism and everyone looks the same!"

"That is the point," Anne reminded her.

"You agree with it?" Sara demanded.

Anne shook her head. "No! But that's the point to them."

"Well I still don't like them."

"You don't have to. Arapahoe doesn't have any."

Sara grinned. "Good thing too. If they did, then I wouldn't follow it, and I'd be in so much trouble!"

"Same for me," Anne agreed. "If Littleton had one…"

They all groaned, and I chose not to comment. We advanced again, with Granger and me supporting Harry once more. I felt a desire to skate as fast as possible, but repressed it nobly. For Harry's sake, I would forgo my race around the perimeter of the ice.

The girls followed us, talking about subjects that I didn't know anything about. There seemed to be something about music, and something about a movie that they'd seen, but I didn't pay much attention. Muggle culture was never my strong point, and I didn't know anything about any of the things that they mentioned.

Eventually, Harry and Granger left the ice. I myself wasn't tired at all, and years of skating long ago had strengthened my ankles enough to withstand the pressure I was putting on them.

Sara watched them go, then glanced at me. "Shall we see what you can really do?"

I shrugged. "What do you want to see? I don't guarantee that I can do everything, but I'll try."

"What's the hardest jump that you can do?" Judaea asked.

"At one point I could land a double axel. I doubt I can now."

"Try," she suggested. I shook my head.

"I'd rather return to school in one piece." And I'd rather not fall over in front of Harry.

Anne nodded. "I know exactly how you feel," she agreed. "I have a deeply ingrained fear of falling. My brain knows that it won't hurt, but my psyche says differently."

"So what are you willing to show us?" Sara demanded.

I shrugged. "I showed you a single axel, didn't I? Seems to me that it's you who should be showing me. You all said that you had yours."

They glanced at each other, then shrugged. By mutual consent, though I didn't know how they communicated between themselves, Sara went first. She was fast and her jump lifted her quite high up, but she lacked a little control, just as I had. Judaea's jump was graceful, elegant, and… for lack of a better word, flowy. Jana hardly jumped at all, but she had very good control. Anne's jump wasn't particularly high either, and she landed it wrong, putting her foot down to stop from falling over. She grimaced.

"See? I hate jumping."

Sara laughed. "You're a spinner. I'm a jumper."

"So spin," I told Anne. "You're good at that, right?"

She shrugged, and went into another spin. It wasn't the layback that the last one had been, but a combination scratch/sit/change-foot. She was good, though she did tend to travel a lot. She looked meaningfully at her friends, who shrugged in turn, and went into their own spins. Without being told, I did the same.

When I came out, I realized with a start that I was having fun! I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so detached from the worries of life and the problems that come with being the only son of a Death Eater. With the muggle girls, I could be just Draco. They had no idea who I was, and they didn't want to. They accepted me as another talented skater, and they treated me as such. We baited each other, challenging everyone to harder and harder feats of skill. After a while, we just skated around the rink, talking about totally random things. By the time the zamboni came out to resurface, I was laughing about something completely innocuous. The four of them followed me over to where Harry and Granger were sitting, and efficiently untied their skates. I followed suit, drying off the blades with a towel lent to me by Anne. They wound the laces around their skates and packed them away carefully. Together, they stood up. Sara grinned at me.

"Hope to see you again," she said.

I shrugged. "Maybe," I agreed. "I don't know if we'll come back."

"You should compete," Judaea told me. "You'd win."

"I don't compete," I said flatly.

Judaea looked about to comment more, but Anne stopped her. "I don't much either," she told me. She glanced at her watch, a black band with a fairy whose wings were the hour and minute hand. It seemed a little childish for her, and I raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "I'm a child in spirit," she said. "And I'm allowed to wear Tinkerbell on my wrist."

"I didn't say that you weren't," I objected, wondering just who Tinkerbell could be.

"We've got to go, though," Anne said. "My aunt's expecting us in about fifteen minutes, and we've got to navigate the London subway." She rolled her eyes. "Amazingly practical, but highly confusing."

Granger laughed. "You just have to be born here to understand it," she assured them. "It does make sense."

"Of course it does," Anne agreed. "Just not to me."

"You're American," Granger told her.

"Yup," Anne said cheerfully. "Come on!" The four of them grinned at us, and left the rink swiftly. Harry watched them go, then turned to me.

"You make friends easily," he said dryly.

"No. I talk to people when they come up to me. There's a difference."

"Not much of one."

"Enough to make a difference."

I rolled my eyes, choosing not to answer.

We returned to the house by bus, not talking much. My body was informing me in no uncertain terms that it hadn't skated in years, thank you very much, and it intended to punish me for overdoing it so much on the first time back. From Harry's periodical winces at a particularly hard bounce, I deduced that his own body was giving him similar messages. I couldn't wait to get back to the house, where I could treat myself to massage charms. They're not taught in most schools, and certainly not at Hogwarts, but my mother is rather fond of them. I learned them early.

Harry unlocked the door and passed through the front hall. After a few days of being periodically shrieked at, Harry had snapped and placed a permanent silencing charm on the portrait. Its occupant now spent her days glowering at anyone who passed, including me. We'd all learned to ignore her. The House Elf was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn't unusual either. He'd taken to sulking in the attic more and more, and, as Harry put it, no one missed him. Not even Granger tried too hard to talk him into coming down to the rest of the house.

I retreated to my room as soon as I'd sent the skates back to their home in my closet at the Manor. Once inside, I stripped down to my underwear and flopped gratefully down onto the bed. I muttered the series of incantations that made up the massage charms and promptly went to sleep, allowing my muscles to enjoy their much needed pampering.

Hermione woke up rather stiff but not too sore the next morning. She had planned to spend the day exploring the library and getting a head start on some of her homework for the beginning of term, but Harry had other plans.

"Harry, are you sure that this is a good idea?" she asked, looking deeply skeptical. "I mean, why would you want to spend most of your day watching loud movies?"

Harry shrugged. "You don't have to come. I've never actually been to a real movie at a theater, and I kind of want to."

Malfoy stuck his head though the door into the kitchen. "What exactly are your two talking about?" he asked.

Harry quickly explained the notion of movies, and Malfoy laughed. "And you pay to go see this?"

Harry nodded.

Malfoy looked at him in disbelief for a moment, then shrugged. "If there is anything worth seeing, then I'm game."

Hermione sighed. She knew well enough that she was outnumbered, and even seeing a stupid movie would be better than staying here with Kreacher. Humanitarian views notwithstanding, Kreacher gave her the creeps. "Is there anything worth seeing?"

Harry shrugged, and pulled out a muggle newspaper that he'd gotten from somewhere. He flipped to the movie page, and the three of them bent down to look. Most of what was playing was trash. Hermione instantly skipped over the mushy romances and the satirical comedies: she didn't find it funny to laugh at other people's troubles, and mush made her want to gag. Harry's finger came down on one title: Star Wars.

Hermione lifted her eyebrows and looked at him. "You expect me to go see that?" she asked, incredulous.

Harry shrugged. "It looks moderately interesting, slightly more entertaining, and loud enough to talk through."

Hermione's eyebrows stayed lifted. "And that's your criteria for choosing movies, is it?"

"There's nothing wrong with my method," he protested, hurt. "I think it's a fine set of guidelines!"

"Especially as it doesn't appear to have a proper storyline," Malfoy added.

Hermione sighed. "You are paying for my ticket," she informed Harry. "I am going as a favor to you, but you had better pay for me to be there!"

"Your wish is my command," he said, grinning.

"Your money is, anyway," Hermione shot back. She glanced at her watch. "And if we intend to make the two o'clock showing, we'd better leave now. The theater's miles away!"

Harry grinned. "Aren't we going to eat first?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "And just how late do you intend to step into that room?"

"Not late at all. We can use these." He swished his wand and a small leather bag zoomed into the room. He caught it deftly, and pulled it open, spilling several marbles onto the table. Hermione caught one before it rolled onto the floor, and examined it closely.

"Pardon my ignorance, but what exactly are these?"

"Apparating Apparatuses. Fred and George developed them over the summer."

"And do they do what I think they do?"

He nodded. "Instant Apparition, wherever you want to go. All you need is your wand."

Malfoy looked incredulous. "You're telling me that these things make you Apparate?"

"Yup."

"How?"

Harry shrugged. "Honestly? I have no idea. Fred and George are geniuses, and they don't share their secrets with anyone."

"And they're safe?" Hermione couldn't help the question: it tumbled unwanted out of her lips.

"Do you think that Fred and George would hand out things that weren't safe?" Harry snapped. "They do have a reputation, you know!"

"Well, it's just that some of their ideas aren't… appropriate."

"Hermione, these are perfectly safe. Trust me, I've tried them!"

Malfoy looked interested. He was eyeing the Apparatuses greedily. "And they work everywhere?"

Harry shot an apologetic grin at him. "They don't work at Hogwarts, if that's what you mean. Anywhere you can't Apparate normally out of, your can't use these. They said that they'd try to get around that, but this version is mainly for either people who don't like side-along, or people who can't Apparate yet and want to go places on their own."

"They shouldn't be selling them to under aged wizards!" Hermione said, appalled. There were times when the twins went too far, and this was shaping up to be one of them.

"Why not?" Harry demanded.

"Well, there's a reason that you can't get a license until you're seventeen! Younger wizards have neither the concentration nor the discipline to use it correctly." She knew that she sounded stuffy and like a textbook, but didn't they understand? Rules were there for a reason, and whenever you tried to get around them, you would invariably get in more trouble than you bargained for. She should know, after all.

"What if you needed to escape?" Malfoy said quietly. Both Harry and Hermione looked at him in surprise. It was impossible to forget his presence in the room, but he'd said so little that Hermione had almost forgotten the fact that he was paying attention.

She had to acknowledge his point, though. Harry smirked in triumph, and he and Malfoy exchanged grins.

"If we're going to make it, even with these, we really do have to get going," Hermione pointed out finally. "And if you want to eat, Harry, then it'll have to be fast. It's almost one already."

Harry nodded. "Then shall we go?" He pulled his wand out of his pocket and tapped the Apparatus, speaking the destination as though into a fire treated with floo powder. He popped it into his mouth, swallowed, then vanished with a loud crack. Malfoy went next, grimacing as the Apparatus went down. Finally, Hermione was the only one left in the kitchen. She glanced around, making sure that everything was in order, then swept the remaining Apparatuses into the bag and shoved it into her pocket along with her wallet. She looked at the blue marble in her hand skeptically, then shrugged, and tapped it with her wand. She swallowed, noting how it was much easier to get down than she'd thought. She felt a disintegrating sensation, and opened her eyes to find Harry and Malfoy looking at her. She pulled the bag of extras out of her pocket and tossed them to Harry.

"Thought you might want these," she said casually.

Harry looked at her gratefully. "You're a star, Hermione," he said. "We might have had a hard time getting home otherwise."

Hermione nodded. "Why do you think I brought them, genius? Honestly, the things I do to keep you happy!"

"But you do them so well!"

"Don't press your luck," she warned. "Are we going to stand here all day, or is food actually going to be consumed?"

Harry grinned. "Step this way," he said, stepping into the stream of foot traffic. Hermione and Malfoy dutifully followed him into a restaurant. It wasn't too crowded, for which Hermione was grateful. She hated crowded restaurants, and went out of her way to avoid them. Harry caught a waiter's eye, and he came to lead the three of them to a table in a corner. Malfoy took the corner seat, while Hermione positioned herself across from him. Harry hesitated, then slipped in next to Malfoy, looking apologetically at Hermione. She shrugged.

The food was decent, and the music was tolerable, as were the prices. Hermione paid her own bill, leaving Harry to handle Malfoy's expenses. She hoped that they'd worked something out for paying back, because Harry was spending rather a lot of money on Malfoy. She didn't say anything, though, preferring to let the two of them work it out on their own. Neither one would appreciate her meddling.

I had spent much of the trip watching the interaction between Harry and Granger. I knew that they weren't in love –he had the Weasley girl for that– but I wasn't sure exactly what kind of relationship they had. I knew they were friends, of course, but I didn't know any specifics. As I studied them while they were alone together, I realized gradually that they treated each other like siblings. They argued over little things, teased each other mercilessly, and seemed sometimes to be able to read each other's minds. During the entire argument about Apparating, for example, Harry had seemed prepared for every single one of Granger's objections, which meant that he'd known what she would say before she said it.

I, on the other hand, was not entitled to this prior knowledge of Granger's thought-process, and I found her objections both stupid and dangerous. Granted, she'd almost certainly had a sheltered childhood, but surely her adventures with Harry and Weasley had made her aware of the dangers of the world! I didn't realize at the time that that was exactly why she was objecting. Later, I would come to understand just how much she really did realize, but just then, I had no idea, and my estimation of her intelligence dropped several notches.

We finished our meal rapidly and Harry and Granger paid the bill. Harry paid for my meal without asking, and I promised myself that I would make him tell me just how much money he'd been spending on me. Malfoy's don't take charity.

We walked briskly over to a building with large posters advertising muggle movies. I noticed the one for our movie, and glanced at it. The battleships and light swords looked entertaining, if not exactly high quality. Harry paid for the three of us, then led us into the theater. Granger took her ticket and put it into the pocket of her jeans, saying that she had to stop in the Ladies Room for a second. Harry and I walked on ahead, and I tried to take it all in without being obvious. All the posters were (of course) motionless, but they managed to convey a sense of what the film was about anyway. I read some of the titles, and grinned. Really, sometimes muggles come up with the most amazing things!

Our tickets directed us to theater six, and Harry pulled open the door, allowing me to pass into a darkened room full of seats. I let him pick, realizing that I had no idea where would be ideal, and he moved up towards the middle. The theater was fairly full, and he had to hurry to find three seats next to each other. He wisely put himself in the middle, with me on his left and Granger on his right, when she finally arrived. She slipped in just as the room darkened, and Harry waved her over. She made her way past the people sitting in the way, and dropped into the seat, letting out her breath. Pictures began to appear on the screen, and I watched, fascinated. I didn't think that muggles could have enchanted the pictures, seeing as how they don't have magic, but I was at a loss as to how they managed to get them there.

"It's a projector," Harry whispered, seeing my bewilderment. "They film the actors –don't ask me how it works because I have no idea– and then project the film onto the screen."

I nodded. We watched the trailers for the movies, and I wondered just how many of them there were. They seemed to go on endlessly! Finally, the actual film that we'd paid to watch came up.

I had to admit that it was far more entertaining than I'd expected. I didn't really care for any of the characters much, but the storyline was acceptable, and the battle scenes looked genuine, though I knew well enough that they weren't. Harry told me that they were done with computers, but he didn't know any more. However they were created, they managed to convey the sense of battle without the actual aftermath. I liked how they skipped from the end of the battle to the characters receiving medals for bravery. They completely skipped over all of the agonizing over dead companions and being comforted by the Princess. I had to admit, I was grateful. I get far too much of that in my own life to appreciate it in fiction.

We stumbled out of the theater at last, blinking owlishly in the bright sunlight. I shrugged my coat back on, having removed it in the theater. It was December, after all, and the brisk wind that rustled through the trees was cold! We hurried over to a secluded area, hidden behind a large brick wall. The wall had the added benefit of cutting the wind, and I relaxed my shoulders a bit. Harry passed out the silvery objects that would transport us back to the house, and we each pulled out our wands and sent ourselves there. Harry pushed open the door and walked into the house, earning a fierce glare from the muted portrait. He ignored her, but I glowered back.

Granger sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, yanking off her coat and draping it neatly on the back of her seat. "That was… interesting," she remarked.

"I liked it," Harry announced. "Didn't you?"

"It had its good moments," I conceded. "Rather unrealistic, even allowing for the subject matter."

Harry shrugged. "There's only so much you can do," he observed. "Technology has far more limitations than magic."

"So far," Granger cut in. "I have my doubts about how much longer that will be true, though."

I stared at her. "Come again," I said incredulously. "You seriously expect me to believe that muggle technology can outdistance magic?"

She nodded. "Eventually. After all, look at the rate of invention of muggle technology and magic. They've come out with countless new models and even whole new gadgets in the time it's taken wizards to create, what, three spells? Soon, muggles will be able to do everything that we can. They can already travel across oceans in a matter of hours in relative comfort."

"We can travel in a matter of seconds," I pointed out, a little cynically. Did she seriously expect me to buy into all of this?

"When were portkeys invented?" she countered.

I shrugged. "Hundreds of years ago," I admitted. "But there's no point in improving them. They get their job done."

"That's exactly my point!" she said triumphantly. "Wizards have one set of things that work and they stick to them. Muggles are forever improving their technology. How many wizards have been to the moon, for example?"

"What would be the point of going to the moon?" I demanded.

"To say that you've been there," she answered automatically. "It was a really big thing a few years ago. But then, you wouldn't know that because you don't get muggle news, do you?"

"Why should I care about what's going on in the muggle world?" I asked scornfully.

"Because, like it or not, there's a lot more of them than there are wizards," Granger said flatly. "We just have to live with it."

I snorted. "Why? They have their lives and we have ours. There's no point in interacting."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you pure-bloods are such snobs!" she complained. "You have to interact with muggles! If you don't, then they'll just drive you completely out of existence!"

"Are you suggesting that we just break the Secrecy Statute and reveal ourselves to muggles left and right?"

"No! Wizards have tried that, and it didn't work. I don't think that human nature has evolved enough to be able to cope with the full truth yet. But you can't just dismiss them completely. That's as absurd as dismissing all the women, senior citizens, disabled people, and children because they don't bring anything to the population."

"It's not the same," I objected. "At least the women, seniors, disabled, and children are all muggles. This is more like distinguishing between types of dogs. We're all dogs, but some are better than others, and the better ones don't interact with the lesser ones."

She sighed. "You obviously haven't spent much time around dogs, have you?" she demanded.

"Enough," I retorted. "And if you have a better metaphor, I would love to hear it."

"This is fascinating and all," Harry interrupted. "But can you not discuss it here?"

She turned to him in surprise. "Why not?" she demanded. "It's relevant, after all."

"Yes, but only in an academic setting," he objected.

"In an academic situation?" she repeated incredulously. "I think that you've been spending far too much time with him." She nodded at me.

"As much as you have," he pointed out. "And since all of us are magical here, and we're not in muggle London anymore, can you just drop it?"

She sighed, but obeyed his wish. We spent a few moments in tense silence, then Harry stretched, yawning. "If the two of you want to spend this time arguing, go ahead," he told us. "I'm going to do something."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" I asked curiously.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Something besides sitting here and arguing."

"We weren't arguing, we were having a philosophical disagreement," I objected.

He raised his eyebrows scornfully. "You were arguing," he said firmly. "Don't even try to deny that."

I sighed dramatically. "It is my fate to be forever misunderstood," I lamented theatrically.

"It is," he agreed, straight-faced. "So you can be misunderstood without me. I'm off to do something productive." He vanished out of the kitchen, leaving Granger and myself quite alone in the room.

She looked at me in something bordering on exasperation. "There isn't really any point in continuing," she observed. "You're far too pig-headed to understand my meaning."

I spluttered at the unfairness of the comment. "I'm pig-headed?" I demanded. "Well excuse me for being right."

"See what I mean?" she demanded. "You're all the same, you purebloods. Even the ones who say they're not are really snobs."

"I object very much to being placed in the same category with Weasley, no matter what the context," I said forcefully.

"Who said anything about Ron?" she asked.

"Granger, you don't know any other purebloods well enough to be making a comparison," I reminded her.

"True," she admitted. "It's true, though."

I grimaced and stood up to leave. "I refuse to be associated in any way, shape, or form with Weasley."

"So you're running away?" she asked.

"I'm walking out in protest," I corrected haughtily. "It is quite different."

"If you say so," she muttered cynically as I swept arrogantly out of the room. I ignored her comment and went to collect the second of the three volumes she'd given me. They were quite good, once you got past the author's tendency to go a bit overboard with the descriptions.