Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling.

My readers should be very glad that this chapter isn't emo, because I had a terrible weekend.

We are now entering a freefall plunge and only Monday will tell.

I slept most of Saturday, only leaving my dormitory for tea, soup, and oranges. I did my homework curled up in bed, cursing colds. Sunday I felt a little better, and even ate some sandwiches; I was sick of soup and oranges.

When I woke on Monday morning, I wanted to kill something. I spent most of the day sniffling and cursing under my breath; 'I hate festering, ranky, puling, head-clogging sarden colds. I hate dragging my sorry sniffling hacking bum through classes. I hate drafty halls and stupid boys and boring teachers and people who make you eat oranges and soup.' By the time I had reached my last class, Transfiguration, I was thoroughly fed up with existence. I had had to run back up to Ravenclaw Tower, since I'd forgotten to get my book, and I knew I was late.

'You're late, Miss Weasley.' McGonagall did not look impressed.

'Sorry, Professor.' I looked around. Someone else was sitting in my usual seat, and the only free one was next to Malfoy. I pulled a face, but sat down next to him. McGonagall continued to dictate notes on Cross-Species Transfiguration in Mammals as I pulled out paper, quill and ink. Malfoy offered his partial set in a whisper, and I thanked him, copying them down quickly, and catching up. I copied them word-perfect, but didn't understand a single thing about them, not one word. My head ached, and everything was sort of fuzzy. Stupid effing colds. When McGonagall handed around kittens, I looked blankly at my notes again. I knew the incantation, but I really didn't understand what I was supposed to do. I pointed my wand at the kitten and muttered the words, but nothing happened. I tried again, much to the same result. I looked around. Most people were having little or no trouble with it. Malfoy was turning his kitten to a puppy and back again with lazy flicks of his wand. I tried again, to no result. McGonagall, who'd been walking around helping people, came over to me.

'Miss Weasley? Would you perform the spell for me?' Great. Now I'd been late, and I couldn't do it. This was going to be a huge deduction from my Head Girl rep. I pointed my wand at the kitten, knowing it wasn't going to work, and muttered the incantation. I didn't even look, but waited for the reprimand.

'Excellent. Ten points to Ravenclaw.' My head snapped up, and I got a face wash from the yapping puppy on my desk. McGonagall swept away to go torture somebody else. I stared at the puppy. I knew it wasn't me, so how…I turned to look at Malfoy.

'You.' I said. He shrugged, not even looking at me. 'You did that. Why?' I was very confused. It wasn't like Malfoy at all; his usual MO was to watch me fail at Transfiguration and then laugh at me as my face burned, drawing everyone's attention.

He shrugged again. 'Because I could. D'you want a hand?' I thought about this for a moment.

'That depends. Are you going to rub it in?' He laughed.

'No, I won't.' He switched the puppy back to a kitten, and began to teach me the theory. I coughed and sneezed through the whole lesson, but by the end of it, I could do the spell. When the final bell rang, signifying the end of the day, we all rose and left the classroom. I turned to head to the Common Room, but Malfoy took my arm and began dragging me in the opposite direction.

'Malfoy, what're you doing?' I asked, trying to loosen myself from his grip, but to no avail. He was strong.

'You're just being stubborn, to the detriment of your health and education. You're going to the Hospital Wing to get cured, and don't argue.' I argued all the time, while thinking Have I ever heard Malfoy talk like that? "To the detriment of your health and education"? Since when does he know words more than one syllable?

We reached the Hospital Wing and he dragged me inside. Madame Pomfrey, the niece of the previous one, was tending to a third year with a long scratch, and I tried to get away while I still could.

'Malfoy! This isn't your business! Why do you care? You hate me; I thought you'd be glad to see me suffer!' He ignored me until that last sentence. Then he turned his head to look at me, his grip slackening on my arm. I wrenched it free.

'You think that?' he was confused.

'Yeah, I know that.' I was confused, too. Of course he hated me; he'd spent six years proving it, hadn't he?

But we were pulled from our confusion by Madame Pomfrey, who'd bustled over. 'What seems to be the problem here?'

Malfoy answered before I could open my mouth. 'Miss Weasley here has quite a terrible cold, and was wondering whether or not you could give her something for it?' Madame Pomfrey looked at me for a moment, then went to a cabinet. Miss Weasley? I mouthed at him behind her back, and he shrugged.

'Here we are,' the matron said, and handed me a beaker full of liquid. It looked like very hot coffee, steaming so much that it almost looked like it was smoking. I looked at it like it was poison, and Malfoy laughed.

'Don't be like that, it's good for you!' the matron tutted. Under her eye, I couldn't do anything else, so I knocked it back. It felt like my throat was on fire. I coughed and my eyes watered. I stood there coughing and waiting until I could see again. As my vision cleared, I wiped my face. I took a deep breath, and realized that I could again. Madame Pomfrey nodded decisively and took the beaker back. 'There we are, right as rain. Off you go!' I walked out, marvelling at how such a terrible thing could work such miracles.

'Told you so!' said Malfoy behind me. 'Your ears aren't even smoking!'

'Nobody likes a know-it-all,' I said, and it came out clearly. It was funny to hear my voice after four days of croaking.

'Admit it. If it weren't for me, you'd be totally miserable.'

'I wouldn't! I'd just be sick.' He looked at me seriously.

'Rose, you were miserable. And sick. And feeling like shit. And whatever other phrase you want to use for totally unhappy and ill.'

'Since when am I Rose?' I asked. First that "Miss Weasley" shit, and now this.

'Since never. It just slipped out, Weasley. Now skedaddle. I know that there's a great big pile of homework out there just waiting for you, and I have one of my own.' And he turned down a staircase towards the Slytherin dormitories. I headed towards the Prefect's common room. On the way there, I ran into Sha Lovegood.

She looked blankly miserable, and was wearing black. I've known Sha her whole life, and I know that she only wears all black when she's sad and denying it.

'Sha? What's up?' She looked at me blankly.

'Not much. You?'

'Nothing. Why do you look like that?' I asked, concerned.

'Like what?'

'Like a ghost full of miserable aimlessly wandering the hallways.'

'I'm not wandering aimlessly!' she objected adamantly. 'I am posting this letter to my mother.' She held up an envelope, addressed in the most carefully perfect writing I have ever seen. 'Then I am going to get ready for Quidditch practice.'

'All right then. If you say so.' I gave her a hug. 'Bye.' She bid me goodbye as well, and we went our separate directions. I set up in the mysteriously empty Prefect's common room. A while later, Al came in.

When we were little, me and Al were best friends, like each other's other half. Yin and yang. Peanut butter and jelly. Frankenstein and Igor. Ish. You get the general idea. Anyways, since then, we've grown apart, but I can still tell how he is, even if he's not telling me. Like, all through December, he was ridiculously happy, but around New Year's, he became totally miserable. He seemed fairly miserable still, which is not something I like to see.

'Al? Shouldn't you, as Captain, be getting ready for Quidditch practice? You know, to set a good example?' he looked at me oddly.

'Rose, I don't have a practice tonight. Why did you think I did?'

'Erm, because Sha said she was going to go get ready for Quidditch practice? And you two are on the same team?' I was confused. Again.

'She practices every night, I think. At least, one of the practice Snitches is signed out under her name every night we don't have practice. I dunno, we don't really talk much, her being two years younger and all.' He looked slightly embarrassed. I considered pursuing the subject further, but let it drop. He'd tell me when he was ready. I went back to studying, still extremely confused.