Chapter Eight - Fight Club

This chapter was posted early because I got five reviews.

Draco

Draco was aware that this letter could ruin his life.

Even more so than asking a muggle-born to form a study group.

Even more so than joining Harry Potter's Defence Squad.

Still, he sealed it and handed it to his family owl. It read:

Preston Talum,

My name is Draco Malfoy and I would like to discreetly request a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. I am not aware of the Seer, the date, or the level of security, but the prophecy should in part read "I've never seen anything this wonderful before, something solid and very powerful and old, they'll come back to haunt you once more, and…"

I would be happy, if need be, to provide proof of a connection with the prophecy so long as you can adequately inform me as to what is considered proof.

If possible, please expedite this request. I'm willing to pay the expediting fees so long as I can be guaranteed a timely return."

Cordially,

Draco Malfoy.

The 'Y' of his name had five enormous loops.

The owl took the envelope and whisked away. Draco watched it go.

If Preston Talum, the Head of the Department of Mysteries said anything to his father, Draco had half a lie baked. It was for his end-of-year owls. He'd found it in a moulding library book. If Lucius forbade him, then he'd have to go around his back. But carefully. He didn't want his father to know that Draco was concerned the prophecy involved him.

And while Granger and Potter had been correct to assume he had the best chance of getting the prophecy between the three of them, he would have to go through the same process everyone else did. His father had influence over the minister, and not even the minister was aware of what went on down on the ninth floor. The last minister who had tried to exercise any authority over that department had been laughed at.

Cornelius wasn't the most intelligent person to be minister, but he was intelligent enough to not go poking for trouble.

Draco picked up the five first attempts at the letter and took them down to the common room. He checked each for any miscellaneous, mysterious writing appearing on them before he fed them one-by-one into the fire. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were nearby, watching.

"Ready?" Blaise called when the last parchment had crumbled to ashes.

Draco nodded without a word. They traipsed out of the common room and left into the drafty stone corridors of the dungeons.

"What'cha writing?" Pansy asked.

"A letter to my father," Draco said.

"He probably doesn't think too highly of your study group, does he?"

"He thinks just fine of it," Draco lied. His father knew nothing about it. "Though if I don't pull ahead of Granger by the end of this year, I may just have to resort to wringing her neck."

"Do it," Pansy said. It was clear she expected a chuckle from the two, but neither obliged.

"We're on track to be early, correct?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Blaise said. "Seventh floor, right?"

"That's what Longbottom, Potter, and Granger told me."

They definitely had the longest walk of any of the students. When they arrived, they were irritated, not by the walk, but by the fact that across from the tapestry of the Barmy man was a blank wall.

Pansy gazed upon it with a scowl. "He set us up," she said. "They must be meeting somewhere else."

Blaise agreed with her line of thinking. "Fine. We can take a hint. Let's go, Draco."

But Draco didn't move. He shook his head. "We're early," he told them. "We'll wait, then we'll head out." He understood Blaise and Pansy's assumption, but felt that Potter and Granger should know better than to risk him cutting them out of their deal.

After only two minutes, there was a scuffing sound down the hall, as if someone had turned the corner and then quickly retreated. Draco flicked his wand into his hand. "Who's there?" he asked, not in a high voice, but not low either.

Harry Potter turned the corner, followed by Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Potter frowned at Malfoy. "You're early," he said.

Pansy and Blaise were relieved to see him, but quickly hid their expressions. Draco raised an eyebrow at them, then said to Potter, "Well, we weren't sure which room to wait in."

Potter glanced at the wall where the door should be and nodded. "One moment," he said. Then he began to pace in front of the door. Once, twice…

"Weasley's brain rot finally starting to get to you?" Malfoy asked.

Weasley snarled, but Hermione rolled her eyes and put a hand in front of him. He did not move.

On Potter's third pace, a highly polished door appeared in the wall. Potter reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door, and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments, including a large, cracked glass that Draco was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office.

"These will be good when we're practicing Stunning," said Weasley enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot.

"And just look at these books!" said Granger excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. "A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions . . . The Dark Arts Outsmarted . . . Self-Defensive Spellwork . . . wow . . ." She looked around at Potter, her face glowing, and Draco snorted at her expression. "Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!" And without further ado she slid Jinxes for the Jinxed from its shelf, sank onto the nearest cushion, and began to read. There was a gentle knock on the door. A hoarde of Gryffindors emerged.

"Whoa," said one, staring around, impressed. "What is this place?"

"This is the Room of Requirement. My friend Dobby-" Potter suddenly stuttered to a stop and glanced over to Malfoy. Malfoy did not recognise the name. "He, uh, works here. And he told me that this room appears when there's a real need for it."

By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Potter moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. Hermione carefully marked her page of Jinxes for the Jinxed and set the book aside.

"Well," said Potter, slightly nervously. Draco rolled his eyes and happened to meet Pansy Parkinson's. She made a face like she was throwing up. Potter continued. "This is the place we've found for practices, and you've — er — obviously found it okay —"

"It's fantastic!" said Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw seeker, and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," said Fred Weasley, frowning around at it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then. . . ."

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" asked a Gryffindor from the rear of the room, indicating the instruments. "Dark Detectors," said Potter, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled. . . ." He gazed for a moment into the cracked glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognizable. He turned his back on it.

"We ought to have Malfoy stand beside it," Weasley announced. There was some laughter.

"Malfoy, Zabini, and Parkinson may be Slytherins, but they're here to learn – same as us," Potter said. The laughter dissipated.

Draco peered toward the cracked glass. Did Potter recognise any of the features in it? Perhaps it could show Voldemort. Or Umbridge or Snape. What if Draco peered in?

The most cynical thought ever occurred to him. What if it simply turned into a mirror?

Potter began to speak again. "Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and — er —" He noticed a raised hand. "What, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader," said Granger.

"Harry's leader," said Cho Chang at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," said Granger, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?" Everybody put up their hands. Even Blaise and Draco. Pansy took a few extra seconds.

Draco was torn. It was half a pointless measure that could take entirely too long to decide, and half a respectable decision. And Granger had certainly learned to focus her speech since the Hog's Head. If she kept improving, maybe she'd be able to explain herself without his help.

"Er — right, thanks," said Potter, whose face was bright red. "Shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful —"

"Oh please," said Pansy Parkinson, rolling her eyes and folding her arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," said Potter quietly. "It saved my life last June."

Pansy opened her mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet. "But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Potter said. Pansy did not move. Nor did anybody else. Draco glanced at Zabini and they shared an impressed look.

"Okay," said Potter, obviously out of his depth, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

Everyone began moving except for Draco, who had grown used to spectating and helping teach, and Potter, whose eyes flitted around to everyone. Granger officially rose from her chair and, after spectating the room, pointed out the three Slytherins to Potter. Draco realised the problem immediately. Longbottom was bound to be partnerless, and Granger and Potter could not leave him in the hands of the lone Slytherin after the other two inevitably partnered off.

Pansy crept up beside him. "Partners, Draco?" she offered.

"Fine," Draco agreed, withdrawing his wand. Granger was stalking toward the three. "Blaise, you'll go with Granger. They don't want any of us near Longbottom."

"Good thinking of theirs," Pansy said, disheartened at the lost opportunity to stick it to Longbottom. But Draco agreed – no one could get hurt without raising suspicion to Umbridge.

"Granger?" Blaise looked horrified. "She probably has the whole library of standard spells memorised!"

"I do," Granger affirmed, now that she was within earshot. "Is that a problem? We're only doing the disarming charm."

"Blaise, go with her," Draco said. "She's not a fast shot. If she outmatches you, you can switch me out." Pansy pouted, but oh well.

Potter had paired with Longbottom, but was so busy watching the room that Longbottom was able to disarm him. He looked dreadfully excited. Potter simply smiled and nodded and walked away.

Pansy was half-decent. Vaguely acceptable form and her spells were powerful. But the way she cast, almost with an air of laziness, let Draco know where every charm would hit before it did. He aimed, waited, and then blasted her wand out of her hand. It hit the ceiling and clattered away.

Potter strayed down to Cho Chang and a friend who did not seem pleased to be there. His stance… was interesting. Very straight-backed. Acting a little nervous. What a surprise. Draco had thought Potter didn't have feelings for anyone. While Granger was the obvious match for him or Weasley at this point in their lives (not both at the same time, obviously), neither had shown any real proclivity to women that Draco had seen. This was the first he was noticing it.

He easily blocked Pansy's next blast and felt a hand on his arm. It was Blaise. "Switch," he demanded very firmly, and Draco nodded. He walked over to where Granger was waiting and took a ready stance. This position reminded him of second year, when Gilderoy Lockhart and Professor Snape had put him and Potter against each other in a fight. He met her gaze.

"Are you thinking of what I'm thinking?"

"You'd better not summon a snake, Malfoy," Granger replied.

Draco smirked and glanced down the aisle at their instructor. "Can your boyfriend still talk to snakes?"

Beside them were Longbottom and Weasley, sparring. Weasley blocked Longbottom with a grunt and then said, "Hermione, is he joking?"

"Yes, Ronald," Granger said. "He's trying to get a rise out of me – expelliarmus!"

The blast was quick and unexpected and sent Draco's wand clattering against the bookshelf. Granger summoned it, then tossed it back to him. Draco growled and sent one back before she had time to prepare.

It turned into a spar of skill. Granger was not fast, this was true, but she was cunning in a way that he wasn't used to seeing. She cast accurately and powerfully.

He managed to pin one on her before she clocked him round the head with a disarming spell. Maybe it was the beating he'd taken from Longbottom earlier that week, but all of the sudden, Draco's head was spinning. He found himself on the floor and got up onto his knees, then feet. A soft buzzing was in his ears. Hermione was waiting for him. His wand was on the ground. He picked it up and shouted, "Expelliarmus!", but heard no sound. Something felt very odd. Hermione's face had colour, but seemed a little fuzzy. And Draco realised that her uniform had no colour. Where red and gold should be were two shades of grey.

Draco held up a hand and looked around. Most of the room still had colour. But here and there were uniforms from multiple houses whose robes had gone grey. Potter's, across the room, was still red and gold.

"Malfoy?" Granger called – the first real sound in a moment. "Are you alright?"

"Granger," Draco said, "What colour is your tie at the moment?"

Hermione looked down and seized the fabric. She scrubbed her hand at it, as if that would fix it, and then looked back at him and pointed. "Yours too," she said.

Draco looked down. The green and white were gone and the same two shades of grey on Hermione's robes were on his. Draco spun around to Pansy and Blaise. "Pansy," he barked, "look at your robes!"

Pansy's robes were also two shades of grey. She and Blaise paused and Pansy looked down, then up, confused. "What?" she mouthed.

"What colour are they?" he asked.

"Green and white, same as yours!"

Draco turned back to Granger, who promptly turned to Longbottom beside her. She gestured to her robes and Longbottom shook his head, confused. Granger looked back at him, more confused.

Were they having the same dream?

Granger turned and hurried off to Potter. She touched his shoulder to draw him away from Cho Chang, then whispered in his ear. Potter turned and took the kerchief out of Granger's pocket to examine. He looked down at his own still-colourful robes, then shook his head.

Granger returned. "Harry can see that yours and mine are grey, but I don't think anyone else can," she reported. "His still look colourful… are they colourful to you?"

Draco could only nod.

The meeting ended shortly after. Potter had a map he examined under his sleeve and instructed everyone to leave in threes and fours. Finally, it was just the Slytherins and the Gryffindor golden trio. Potter put the map away to look at them all. "Is your vision back?" He asked Granger.

"Your vision?" Weasley asked.

Granger nodded. "Just barely, after the other Gryffindors left. I can see the colours now."

Potter turned to Draco. "Malfoy?" he asked.

Malfoy was fidgeting with the normally-coloured kerchief in his pocket. "No," he said. "It still looks grey." He examined Pansy's robes behind him. Hers now looked half-normal. "Weird. It happened when Granger got me with her disarming charm the second time."

"Yours looks normal to me now, Malfoy, but it was grey earlier," Potter said. "Just… keep an eye on it, I guess. I have a feeling it's not… spell related."

An awkward silence emerged. Draco gestured to the door. "Can we go?"

Potter nodded, and away they went.

"What was that about?" Pansy hissed in the hallway.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe Granger put something fun into her charm. Who knows?"

"You might be having a no-good, terrible, awful day today, but wizards and witches, at least you're not having a day as bad as Draco Malfoy!" the little man in his imagination narrated. Draco had started giving him a persona. He imagined a short, stumpy man similar to Professor Flitwick, with a thick moustache like a toothbrush and only five long black hairs on his head.

He still had yet to name his pity-party host, though.

Students were filtering in to their Monday morning meal, but there weren't too many seats taken. Potter and Granger were both early and were exactly the people Draco needed to see. He beelined for the Gryffindor table, took a seat beside Granger, and laid down the parchment he'd been carrying. "Morning," he said. "I've got a reply."

Granger and Potter both looked at him as if he were a Grindylow who had just appeared on the chair beside them. "Wot?" he asked. "Is this seat taken?"

"Um," Granger exchanged a quick glance with Potter. "By you, I suppose. A reply… oh, do you mean a reply to your prophecy request!"

"Exactly," Draco agreed. "What else would I be here for?"

"By the way," said Potter. "Are you seeing your colours back?"

"Yes." The colours had returned by the time he'd made it back to the Slytherin Common Room. Curious, really. He still couldn't figure it out.

Draco straightened out the parchment. "Dear Mr. Malfoy," he began, "Regarding your correspondence by owl, we have initiated a request for the release of a prophecy copy. The process to receive such a copy is expected to be completed sometime before Christmas. There is no expediting currently available."

That was the bad news, and both Granger and Potter's shoulders slumped to hear it. But it wasn't the worst news. "The stanza you provided matches a prophecy given in 1010 A.D.. Unfortunately, no additional details can be provided without confirming that there is a direct link between you and the prophecy. Now, the fact you know a line of the prophecy at all is quite a bit of credible evidence. Please provide the story of how you came upon this stanza. Upon receiving your statement, we will verify, and then your request will proceed before the Wizengamot. We await your owl."

He looked up to see their reactions. Potter didn't seem to get it, but Granger was turning chalk white. "You're kidding," she said. Draco shook his head. Granger set her cup of pumpkin juice down and covered her mouth like she was going to be sick.

"What is it?" Potter asked.

"It's old, that's what it is," Draco said. "It's older than Hogwarts itself."

"Prophecies get more powerful when they're old," Granger explained. "You could prophesy it'll rain this afternoon. Doesn't mean much now." She waved at the sunlight coming through the windows. "But the nearer you get… the prophecy starts to slide into place. Something that old… has been sliding for a long time-"

"He-hem," came a voice from behind them. All three turned. Professor Umbridge was standing nearby. "Mr. Malfoy," she said. "This is not your table."

"No, Professor Umbridge," Draco agreed. "I was only talking with Potter and Granger about our study session tomorrow. Can we please have two more minutes?"

"Ah, your transfiguration and potions study group?" Umbridge asked in an overly sweet tone.

"Yes," Draco affirmed. "The hall isn't that full yet. It'll only be another few minutes."

"Two, then, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Umbridge said. She continued a course for the head table.

"How'd you do that?" Potter asked, dumbfounded. "I couldn't get her to switch a detention for two more."

"I've got connections you've not got," Draco replied. "Now, quickly, let's meet in the library earlier than the group tomorrow. Something this old might have a reference somewhere. Maybe we can find out more about it before December – October's only just begun."

"Can't your dad, I don't know, bribe someone?" Granger asked.

Draco's lips pursed and he looked down at the table. Don't explode… don't explode. "No," he replied. "He can't."

Granger's eyebrows rose. "That's a first."

"It's the bloody Department of Mysteries, Granger. Even the minister doesn't know what goes on down there."

"Okay, okay," Potter said, sticking a hand out in between them. Draco suddenly got the strangest feeling. He'd seen Potter do that with Weasley and Granger before and it felt awfully strange to have his arch nemesis… calm him down? "We'll meet tomorrow, fine. Malfoy, keep us posted on if you hear anything."

Draco nodded and stood up. It had only been about a minute, but leaving early would seem better to Professor Umbridge than if she ventured back to check on them. He ventured back to the Slytherin table and sat down beside Pansy Parkinson. She was giving him an odd look. "What?" he asked.

"You're what. Why are you acting so buddy-buddy with the Gryffindors?"

Draco scowled. "Piss off. We were just talking about the stupid study group." He carefully folded the letter he'd received and stowed it inside a very deep inner pocket. Pansy was getting suspicious to the point he no longer trusted her to not pickpocket him.

Draco felt like Granger, running to the library at every free moment to search. It was lucky he didn't run into her before the time they'd actually agreed to meet. At five, Draco had beelined it to the nonfiction stuff from the time period and found her with her nose only an inch from the titles as she skimmed. She had evidentially been there a moment, as there was a stack beside her.

"Where's Potter?" he growled and sidestepped her to begin on the opposite bookshelf from her.

"A shelf over," Granger replied. "Harry! Malfoy's here!"

"Shh!" said Madam Pince, not too far away.

Potter appeared with a divination tome. He nodded to Draco and then sat down to continue skimming in the middle of a book.

Draco found a tome titled The Impact of the Eleventh Century and yanked it off the shelf. "First person to find anything wins ten Galleons," he said. "You could give it to Weasley – I'm sure it would equal his family's salary for a year."

Potter scoffed. Granger rolled her eyes. "We're motivated enough, thanks."

Draco exhaled and flipped back to the index. "So… I tried searching by keywords… and there are none. Some prophecies have funny words… ours has none."

"Brill," Hermione said. "I tried the same thing."

Draco felt a little dismayed that he hadn't managed to think of that before Granger, but the feeling was so common that it didn't truly surprise him. He spared a glance at Potter and saw that he was not reading, but picking at the edge of a page. He kicked him in the leg. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Piss off, Malfoy," Potter scowled, rubbing his leg. "What's got you so chatty tonight?"

"You haven't ever spent time with me before, Potter," Malfoy said, sarcastic with a bit of a bite behind his tone. "I'm always like this."

Potter turning down his offer of friendship had been a smack in the face back in first year and the wound continued to reverberate with each passing year. It was the first time Draco had been presented with an issue that money or influence could not fix. Potter had not been interested in either, and it had hurt that someone as important as the Boy-Who-Lived was not interested in him.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to remember the reason for that," Potter said, equally sarcastic.

And that bit a little, Draco couldn't lie. He frowned down at Potter and the childish urge to rib him came over him, but he bit it down. "Do tell?"

"You act like you're better than people because your family is inbred and throw your money farther than your personality."

Draco snorted, and the snort became a laugh. He closed the book for a moment, then opened it back up without a retort. How could he? Yes, he was inbred. Yes, he was rich and emotionally withdrawn. "So, what's got you pissed off? This situation with the prophecy?"

"One-hundred-percent," Potter drawled.

"Which is why you're staring at that page so attentively."

"Lay off, Malfoy," Granger said. "I'm on my fourth book and you seem to only be opening and closing that one."

She did have a point. Draco decided the book wasn't worth his time, pulled one off a shelf, and sat down beside Potter. Granger had formed two stacks – one with books she thought were worthwhile, and one of castaways. The castaways stack was at the perfect angle for him to stretch his legs and prop his shoes atop everything. Granger watched him, but didn't move to stop him as he flipped through Notable Events of the Tenth Century.

"I had a date that didn't go very well," Potter said after several long moments. Draco looked over, about to ask, "why are you telling me", and then realised Potter was answering his question from earlier. "Or, rather," Potter said, "It went fine, but she kept wanting to talk about… her ex?"

"Who was it?" Draco asked.

Another pause. "Cho Chang," Potter admitted.

"Well, there's your problem." Draco snorted. Granger tapped his feet with a finished book. It took a little bit of core strength to lift his feet, but he did and she slid the book under his soles to add to the stack. He settled his feet back down.

Potter set his book aside. He picked one off of Granger's stack and opened it to the title page. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I've seen her crying everywhere. She's clearly not over him. Probably only agreed to go with you because you were there… y'know."

"She asked if he said anything about her before he died," Potter whispered. "And I said, y'know, no, because he never even knew he was dying until…"

Draco glanced over. Potter's face was closed off. His expression glassy. He wasn't even looking at the page anymore. Draco glanced to Granger. She was watching Potter too, but her mouth was staying shut.

Draco returned his attention awkwardly to the book contents, skimming the list of what the book was selling. "If you want my advice, Potter, break off what you have with her and let her be. She'll just take out her grief on you."

Potter turned to Granger. "What do you think?" he asked.

"You're asking her?" Draco asked. "Granger couldn't find romance in a room full of people vying for her!"

"Malfoy, you could never get that many people who tolerate you together in the first place," Granger replied nonchalantly. Potter wheezed and Draco felt his blood temperature rise. Granger merely turned the page in her book. "And besides, Malfoy, one of us has gone out with an international Quidditch star. The other has gone out with Pansy Parkinson, despite not seeming too impressed with her."

A good Slytherin (though, he often wondered if he could call himself that) knew when to fight back and when to shut up and plan for later. This particular moment was the latter.

Granger tapped Draco's feet with another reject. He lifted them up and thought that he may regret this workout come tomorrow morning. "To be honest, Harry, Malfoy may have a point. Obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes you, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be liking you at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with you. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward you are anyway, because you were the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

Draco could no longer pretend to be reading. He shut his book and stared at her. "How are you so good with navigating that mess, and so bad at teaching?" he asked.

Granger did not rise to the bait. "Different skill set," she replied. "Now, we've got twenty minutes. Nothing, still?"

"Nothing," Potter confirmed, putting the hardly-touched book down.

Granger nodded and turned to Malfoy. "Well, Harry did test that the missing person we suspect isn't Ronald. He reckons, and I agree with him, that if we can remember our bits perfectly then person number four ought to be able to do the same."

"It would make sense," Malfoy agreed. "So, did you just recite it and ask him to finish it?"

Potter nodded. Malfoy leaned his head back against the bookcase and thanked his lucky stars. He may be landed with Potter and Granger, but at least it wasn't Potter, Granger, and Weasley.

"My theory," Granger said, "Is that the fourth person is likely female. Because that would balance us out."

"I can see that," Draco agreed.

"I also think they're likely to be around our age," Granger continued. "Because of the imbalance of power that would emerge if one was noticeably older than us three."

Draco wondered suddenly if the fourth person could be Pansy. If there was a comparable duo to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger from Gryffindor, then it was most likely to be Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin.

"Let's ask around," Potter said. "And keep each other informed."

"Yes," Draco said. "And should we continue to search the library?"

"I'd debating asking Madam Pince to search for it," Granger said. "It's vague enough, I think…" she paused suddenly, and then turned to Draco. "Your reply arrived by owl today, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Draco replied.

"And you sent out your original letter by owl, right?"

"What else would I have sent it out by?"

Granger and Potter met eyes and had a short conversation without words. Then Potter straightened up. "Professor Umbridge has been reading my mail," he said. "She wounded my owl, Hedwig, and then intercepted a floo message I received."

Draco's blood went cold. "How do you know?"

"The rings on her fingers," Potter said. He held his fingers up and fluttered them. "We saw them in the fireplace."

Draco leaned his head against the bookshelf. "Maybe it's just yours," he suggested.

"Bet," Granger said, and Draco knew she was right.

He sighed. "It's too late now. But she was there in the library… she took the parchment to Dumbledore. If she has intercepted my mail, then she'll know that we're wondering if those words were a prophecy and she could assume you're in on it too."

"I'm sure that you sitting at our table will definitely open you up to screening if you weren't before."

"Thanks, Potter." Draco's mouth felt dry. "So, this is what it's like to be an accomplice of the Harry Potter. I wasn't missing anything."

Harry's name felt odd on Draco's tongue.

Granger chuckled. "I could tell you that it's normally better than this, but I'd be lying." She stood and smoothed out her robes. "Perhaps wait until a Hogsmeade weekend to send messages, Draco."

"Don't call me Draco."

"You want me to continue to call you Malfoy?"

Draco paused. Their study group had been going for almost a month and a half, now. They were tangled into this mess together, and he was also a part of the defence squad.

"I'll think about it," he decided. "For now, it's Malfoy to you."

"Right then," Granger said. "Let's put all these away before we're late."

Pansy was in the common room when Draco returned. He crept behind her to the stairs to the boy's dorms, then hesitated. She had not noticed him. She was immersed in a book on the Dark Arts – technically banned, but no one cared. Her face was towards the fireplace.

He could head up the stairs and put it off another day. Or…

He stalked toward her and put a hand to her shoulder. "Pansy," he said, and she inclined her head. "I've got something like a riddle here. I want to see if you can finish it."

She raised an eyebrow and closed the book with her finger in it. "Yes, Draco?" she asked.

Draco found the piece of parchment Harry Potter had copied out for him in his pocket, along with a tiny piece of lint that he flicked into the fire. He recited it, and Pansy's expression remained blank. "Is this… an encantation?" she asked.

Draco's heart sank a little. "No, just an incomplete rhyme. Thanks for trying."

"No problem. G'night."

The next chapter will be called Meeting the Muggles. I'll post the next chapter early if I get five reviews.