Chapter Twelve - Days of Christmas

This chapter was posted two days early because I got five reviews. I keep my promises!

Hermione

The awkwardness from their row wore off, though as predicted, Draco didn't say anything else on the subject. Hermione wasn't surprised.

Rosalie kept coming around. She was cool - very smart. She went with them to the Christmas Markets. Instead of taking the train, as Hermione had planned on, she drove them there. Harry and Hermione shared the back row. Draco sat in the front left seat and seemed to be gaining a working knowledge of how a car functioned as Rosalie drove. "That lever on the side of the wheel," he said at one point. "You flip it every time we move."

"It tells other people that I'm moving," Rosalie said. "British law says I need to signal for a full two seconds before moving over."

"Do Americans have that law?"

"I'm not sure. Driving can be slightly different depending on where in America you are."

"What part of America are you from?" Hermione asked. It was still hard to believe Rosalie could be from anywhere other than England, because her accent was so honed to the mess that was Wigan.

"New York," Rosalie replied.

"Don't they have a funny accent?" Harry asked. It seemed he was thinking the same thing she was.

"It's a very unique accent, yes," Rosalie dropped her English accent. The sounds that came out of her mouth were hard and unfamiliar.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked.

"That does not sound like a real accent," Draco said firmly.

"It is a real accent," Roslie continued in New Yorker. "A lot of people try to do the Boston accent, but Boston is more along these lines. Everyone's favourite line to say is 'Hey, I'm walking here!'"

"Isn't Boston adjacent to New York?" Hermione asked.

"Isn't Oxfordshire adjacent to Reading and Newbury?" Rosalie replied. This reply unnerved Hermione for two reasons. First, she was disappointed that this reasoning had not occurred to her sooner. Second, she had not told Rosalie she was from Oxfordshire.

"Where am I from, based on my accent?" Harry asked.

"Do me a favour, real quick Harry," Rosalie said, finally returning to the accent Hermione was used to hearing from her. "Can you say, "The blue bird that flies east towards the mountain?"

Harry repeated this strange phrase and Rosalie said, "Surrey. Maybe Ashtead. You're close to Received Pronunciation, but you drop your r sounds a little early, you have a glottal stop, I can tell by the way you do your "f" that you produce that sound more often, and you've got a bit of a tail at the end of some of your words."

Draco became very excited. "You are literally Sherlock Holmes," he said. "In the flesh!"

"It's just accents," Rosalie replied. "You travel around a bit, take note of different speech patterns, and eventually you can tell where anyone is from."

An overpass was coming up. Written above the three highways lanes in comical graffiti, from left-to-right, was "This is the correct lane", "Don't be a middle-lane moron!" and "Passing only." Draco watched it go by, craning his head to see it, and using his fingers to point to the lanes on the road as he thought.

Rosalie hummed a little to herself as she wove around a lorry in the left-hand slow lane. "Hey Siri," she said. "Play, Overpass Graffiti by Ed Sheeran."

Draco frowned "Who's-"

Then the car spoke back. "Now playing Overpass Graffiti, by Ed Sheeran."

Draco launched to the edge of his chair. "You can talk to your car?" He demanded.

"It's my phone," Rosalie laughed. "I can talk to my phone."

"You can talk to your phone?!"

"Hey Siri," Rosalie said. "What's the weather like in Manchester tonight?"

"The weather in Manchester is currently cloudy, with highs of four and lows of negative three. There's a twenty-percent chance of snow in one hour."

Draco was gobsmacked. "Your phone can tell you the weather?" Then, he paused. "How can Muggles know the weather in advance?"

"We have satellites, or big… oh, I don't know a good magical comparison for them. Hermione, have you got any ideas?"

"It looks like… a bowl. Made of metal. And it can take pictures of the earth and send it back to us."

"Right! Muggles discovered that the planet isn't a sphere! It's an egg!" Draco turned around in his chair. "There was a children's book in the library… I suppose you all already know that Muggles made it to the moon, though."

"Oh, yes, ages ago," Hermione replied.

Draco deflated, then said, "Please just pretend to be excited, because I am."

Harry let out a whoop. "Yes, it's so cool!" He said. "Yay space!"

Rosalie bent over the wheel, laughing, and Draco leaned over to steady her. "I didn't think it was that funny," he said.

"There's a movie…" Rosalie shook her head. "It'd probably be good for you to watch. It'd mess with your mind a little. It's called Barbie."

"Is that… a thing?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"A kind of doll."

"I saw it," Hermione said. "Yeah, it would mess with Draco's head."

"How so?"

"Hard to explain. We'll watch it together. Now, the best place to park is over here…"

They found some parking by the road and Rosalie explained the layout as they approached Manchester Piccadilly. "It's at least a half-mile of shops," she said. "It starts at the Manchester Cathedral, goes towards and underneath the food court, and up towards Piccadilly Square. Right… here."

The street opened up to a large park with many booths and stalls set up. They seemed to all be food related. Fairy Lights were strung from poles at even internals, forming gentle slopes. People were everywhere. There was a Primark and a Nando's… "Ooh, Nando's!" Hermione pointed. "We ought to go!"

"Normally, I'd agree, but they sell German Bratwurst at the market, so let's do that instead!"

As Rosalie walked ahead, Draco reached out and grabbed her hand, keeping her a good length near as she pulled him into the crowd.

Bold of him, Hermione thought, and then felt someone else take her own gloved hand. It was Harry, of course, and his fingers looked chilly. Hermione pointed at the Primark. "We ought to get you some gloves."

"In a moment," Harry said. "Hurry, or we'll lose them."

A tram was pulling in – the navy line from the Manchester Airport. It was packed with people. Pedestrians meandered over the tracks, only jumping when the tram gave a warning honk. Draco was pointing at it, his lips moving. Hermione tugged off the glove not in Harry's hand and offered it to him, stowing her vulnerable hand in her pocket. Harry pulled it on and they ran to catch up.

"Imagine this in Diagon Alley," Draco said to them when they'd caught up. "I'd sponsor it!"

"Diagon Alley is too small!" Hermione replied. You'd need to expand the streets."

"I'm a wizard, that's right up my alley," Draco replied.

"Down here," Rosalie pulled Draco past the tram stop and past the Primark entrance. A guitarist had a large square taped off around him and was playing for tips. They hurried around him.

Over their heads was an overpass connecting two buildings. A great big escalator carried you up to the food courts hidden there. But on the ground were different stores. The Dr. Martens Store, a very large sweet shop, a Wetherspoons Hermione immediately longed for, and a Boots pharmacy. In the middle of all of these was the first true Christmas Market Stall. It had a wood-shingles roof over a long table of different candies. There were gummy sharks and nerd clusters and sour worms and liquorice ropes. "Oh my goodness!" Hermione said. "My parents would have a heart attack at all this sugar!"

"It's a pay per ounce," Rosalie said. "The bags are there-" She paused, because Draco had already found them, and Hermione had a feeling she already knew where this was going. Sure enough, Draco took a little of everything, and then paid for a four-pound bag of candy.

"I'll share!" He said, when Rosalie had gaped at the weight.

"You need a trolley," Harry said.

"And a supervisor!" Rosalie said. "Money doesn't grow on trees, you know!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Draco is old money," she said, then regretted it. It wasn't her place to make Rosalie aware of Draco's fortune he was bound to inherit from his father.

"He won't be, for long!" Rosalie replied.

The stalls stretched across the street and down towards a crossroads. Some were decorated, with walls and holly and lights. Most were plain and painted brown and white and green. There was a dusting of snow on the roofs, but the sidewalk was salted so thoroughly that their shoes stayed dry. The stalls sold everything. Hand-bound journals, painted postcards, and leather satchels and backpacks. Beer glasses – lots and lots of beer glasses. But also shoes and hats and scarves and-

"Here's your glove, Hermione," Harry said. He had a pair of knit gloves with a soft wool lining in his hand. "Let me pop over real quick…"

Hermione pulled the glove back on and spotted Draco and Rosalie up ahead, looking at snow-globes. She held her hand out to Harry after he'd paid for his new gloves and they caught up to peer at models of places all over England and Germany.

Beside a stall selling large hand-carved German trinkets, including full-size coo-coo clocks, music boxes, and model buildings, was the Bratwurst. A full 18 inches of Bratwurst! The stall was busy, with a line of twenty people stretching past the next booth, selling dyed and carved leather bags and ponchos. Interesting for a German market, but there they were.

Each Bratwurst came with a bun. How the Bratwurst went into the bun depended on whether it broke when picked up off the grill. It could come cut into thirds, half, or the whole thing poking out of the bun in the middle, like a seesaw.

They got theirs together and then stood in a little huddle to count back from three and take a bite together. Hermione hadn't tasted something this good in ages. She moaned and immediately went for a second bite. The simple food warmed her up with every bite.

Rosalie added ketchup from a bottle on a table belonging to the stall. And when a bit ended up on her cheek, Draco removed his glove and got rid of it with the pad of his thumb.

After they finished, they put distance into their group so each pair could walk hand in hand for a bit. The Manchester Cathedral, which truth be told looked much like every other Church of England cathedral, loomed against the foggy sky above them.

"They jumped in fast," Harry said, squeezing her hand lightly as they walked.

"They did," Hermione said. "Truth be told, I think that's why Rosalie sought us out. She liked him."

"I wonder if the prophecy also had to do with it. You know, powerful and old and such. Might have drawn her in."

A white fleck flit past Hermione's cheek. She held a hand up and a second settled on her finger. "Oh, snow!" she said.

Up ahead, Draco and Rosalie stopped at a cheese booth, then a booth that sold small stuffed animals. Draco hadn't gotten anything else since the candy, but she was wondering when he'd cave.

"What house do you reckon she'll be put in?" Harry asked her.

"Ravenclaw," Hermione said. "Maybe Slytherin, just to be with him."

"Well…" Harry trailed off. "I could see Ravenclaw, but she's not exactly… ambitious, is she?"

Hermione laughed. Someone was clearly still thinking about their discussion. "So you think Ravenclaw?"

"Or Gryffindor. Taking all this on so fast takes guts."

"Harry, look!" They were passing another stall that sold hand-carved music boxes. "It's Hogwarts!"

And so it was. About a foot high and a foot wide was Hogwarts Castle, with the lake and the hill visible in their proper places. Little stones were carved into the walls of the castle. The carver must have been a wizard.

"We ought to show Rosalie," Harry said. "Where'd they get off to? Oh!"

Hermione glanced up at him and then followed his gaze up ahead. Beside a stall full of wind chimes and scarves tied to the roof was Draco and Rosalie, barely out of the way. And Draco had leaned in to kiss Rosalie. Hermione could see one of his hands underneath her chin. More snow was falling. When Draco leaned away from Rosalie, they both began to smile.

"Oi!" Harry shouted, putting his free hand into the air. "Quit your snogging and come see this!"

They returned, cheeks bright red, to see what Harry and Hermione had found. Draco recognised it immediately. "Hogwarts!" he exclaimed.

"It's beautiful!" Rosalie said. "What song does it play?"

There was a wind-up bar on the right side. Hermione watched Rosalie wind up the box. A beautiful few notes emerged, light and mysterious.

Draco put a hand on Rosalie's back. "When you get transferred in," he whispered, barely loud enough for Hermione to hear. "We'll show you…"

Harry tugged Hermione's hand and they faded away, leaving Rosalie and Draco again. Hermione found that, already, she was used to having Harry hold her hand.

"Let's play Codenames," Rosalie called, voice echoing in the townhome. "What teams do we want?"

She laid out a grid of cards with random words on the dining room table while Harry pulled the four white hot chocolate cups they'd gotten from Costa out of the cardboard holder as gently as possible. Hermione slumped into a chair across from Rosalie and groaned. Her arms were sore. She'd bought far too much at the Waterstones in the Trafford Centre. But they had had so many good books… so many new titles.

Draco was just as guilty. He entered the room, rolling his shoulders and his wrists to stretch them. "You and I, obviously," he said to Rosalie, and fell into the seat beside her.

Draco had carried away, not only books, but games, cards, more items from Primark, a new watch, and hair chalk in multiple colors.

"We can't sit next to you if we're on the same team," Rosalie told him. "You've got to be across from each other."

Draco looked at Harry, who looked at the last seat beside Hermione's, across from Draco. "Well," Draco said, "Potter, it's you and me."

Hermione's looked across the table at Rosalie and fiddled with a card set in a holder so that Rosalie and Draco could not see it. Harry sat beside her. "How do we play?" he asked.

"You need to guess correctly. You and I have the map over here. We'll give Draco and Rosalie one-word hints as to which are our team's pieces, and how many tries you get." Hermione handed Harry a stack of red tiles. "For example… Fire, one."

Rosalie leaned forward and gave everything a cursory glance. She touched a tile in the grid that said, "Flame." Hermione placed a blue tile on it from her hand. "First team to get all their pieces wins."

"It's my game," Draco said. "I win by default." He squinted at the map.

Harry cleared his throat. "Draco… Quidditch for one."

"Quidditch?" Rosalie raised her eyebrow.

"We play on opposing teams at Hogwarts," Draco filled her in.

Hermione looked up to examine Rosalie as Harry and Draco began to bicker lightheartedly about which team was better. She listened to them both, playing with her hair, and smiling.

"Then I said to Draco, pity you can't attach an extra arm to your broom so it could catch the snitch for you!"

Rosalie burst into laughter while Draco gave Harry a very menacing glare. "Are you going to play?" he demanded from Hermione.

"Did you know that if you're falling from the sky, the best place to land is in snow?" Rosalie asked, glancing over the board and musing.

"And the second-best place to land is trees," Hermione said.

"Don't you go giving each other hints," Draco frowned.

Rosalie met Hermione's eyes. She winked. Hermione grinned. Rosalie giggled. "Pie, three."

"Math," Rosalie said. "Apple. And cherry."

"See?" Hermione told Malfoy, laying blue tiles down. "No hints were given during the proceedings of this conversation."

Rosalie straightened out the tiles on her side. "You're pretty smart, aren't you Draco?"

"Second in our year at school," Draco said.

"Who's the first?" Rosalie asked.

There was a pause and Hermione straightened up, preening. Draco rolled a double agent tile in two fingers, stubbornly avoiding her gaze. "Me." Hermione smiled.

"Oh, no wonder I like you," Rosalie said. "Way to go!"

"Thanks!"

Draco glared at Hermione, and Harry gave a short hint. But Draco tapped a tile that made Hermione wince. "That's the assassin," she said. "You lose."

"Great," Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"It's your fault for giving such a rubbish guess!"

Hermione passed the card holder to Rosalie while the boys bickered. As Rosalie took a new map for another round, Hermione began to flip over cards. Rosalie watched, leaning over, and thinking.

Draco snatched the map out of Rosalie's hand. "What've we got?" he demanded.

"Something for sure," Rosalie said. "Let me see… I need to think."

Hermione finished flipping things over and then sat back in her chair. She happened to raise her eyebrows at Harry, who raised his back, and then they both sighed and waited for their teammates to begin.

"Harry…" Draco trailed off. "Um… Gringotts for… two."

"Bank," Harry said. "And, um… paper?"

"Why would you pick paper?" Draco demanded. "Stone! The building is made of stone!"

"Well, there's paper inside!"

"There's parchment, you numskull!"

Rosalie's eyes flicked back and forth between the map and Hermione. A smile was spreading across her face. Hermione waited, wondering what strategy Rosalie was cooking up. The boys fell silent again, rolling their eyes, and all eyes went to Rosalie.

She put a hand on the table. "Hermione…" she said, speaking around a laugh. "You have the opportunity to accomplish something memorable, crazy, and remarkable. Are you ready?"

Hermione's straightened up in interest. Her spine felt tensed. Like year end exams with the quill in her hand, waiting for it to begin.

"Defence," Rosalie said. "For ten."

Draco's hands hit the table. "No," he said. "No."

"How many do you need total?" Harry asked, panicked.

"Nine," Rosalie said, still looking at Hermione.

"You can't give extra hints!"

"Depends on who you ask. Most places allow one extra guess. But if you want…" Rosalie nodded at Hermione. "Defence. Nine."

Harry slumped back in his chair. To him, the game was already lost. Draco stared resolutely at the tiles.

"Shield," Hermione pointed. "And…Knight… Castle…" It got harder. She wished she knew Rosalie better. She did know Rosalie was smart. She knew a lot of fun facts. She thought about things broadly. She put her finger on a tile. "Virus?"

Rosalie nodded, beaming. Draco scowled.

"And… Spy… Ship… Archer… Code?"

Rosalie kept laying down blue tiles, smiling ear-to-ear.

Hermione exhaled, shaking and smiling. One more. Her finger shook as she pointed to her final guess. "Dragon?"

"Yes!" Rosalie leapt out of her chair and put her hands above her head. "We win! One turn! Yes!"

"How," Harry asked, "Is Virus a defense?"

"Biological warfare," Hermione said.

"That's a war crime," Harry said.

"Only if you get caught," Hermione said. "I did light a teacher on fire in first year."

"Quirrell?" Draco asked, brows furrowed but expression mostly defeated in the wake of their loss.

"Snape," Hermione said.

Draco stared at Harry. "I'm not playing on your team again," he said.

"Can we play trivia?" Rosalie asked, reaching for a deck of cards.

"Yes!" Hermione leapt out of her chair as well. "Yes!"

"No!" Draco and Harry exclaimed at the same time. "No, no," Harry said. "I'd rather do Uno No Mercy again."

"What's the rarest blood type?" Rosalie asked, reading off the back of the box.

"Rh null," Hermione said, as Draco said, "Pureblood."

Rosalie squinted at Draco. "Seriously?" she asked.

"No," Harry said. "No, no. We're not playing this."

"Oh come on!" Hermione pleaded. "You lose to Ron all the time at chess!"

Draco stretched his hands across the table to Harry. "Doctor Who?" he asked.

"Sold," Harry agreed. "You set up the player. I'll get popcorn."

Hermione deflated, but Rosalie merely opened the box. "That's okay," she said. "I'll race you through the hard ones. Then we can quiz each other on what's not in here."

Hermione felt she had found a kindred spirit. Her grin was put back in place. She couldn't remember smiling this hard in quite a while. "Yes! Let's!"

Hermione couldn't just spot Nando's and not haul them all to it, so they returned to Manchester the next day. Nando's had been her family favourite for a while. It specialised in peri-peri chicken – a spice that originated from South Africa. Each restaurant had pumpkin-orange lights and wood accents on the walls. And when you walked in, the Nando's Peri-ometer was on full display. As decoration or warning, Hermione didn't know. But it was shaped like a chili pepper and had the categories Extra Mild, Mild, Medium, Hot, and Xtra Hot. Each category had a description. "As mild as we go". "A tidal wave of flavour." "Hits the spot without scalding your tonsils." "Highly combustible – proceed with caution." And finally, "Like tickling a ferociously fiery dragon."

"I know which one I'm not getting," Harry muttered under his breath.

"You didn't enjoy battling your last dragon?" Rosalie asked. "The Horntail seemed nice enough in the papers."

Hermione had ordered Medium once, and had regretted it. She didn't know anyone who'd ordered Hot, much less ferociously hot.

"How hot is hot?" Draco asked.

"You did manage to survive the ghost peppers," Hermione said. "But you're also a basic white boy who's always had house elves cooking for you. Get the Mild or Extra Mild."

"I'm getting the Hot," Rosalie said. Hermione's eyes felt strained.

Harry looked in between Hermione and Rosalie. "I'm feeling conflicted," he said.

"What've you got to lose?" Draco asked.

"Your sense of taste," Hermione replied.

"Control of your bowels," Rosalie added.

"My dignity," Harry replied grimly.

Draco considered all of this and nodded. "Well, I've already lost one of those. Let's go for the extra hot."

Rosalie grabbed his shoulder before he could walk towards the register. "Better idea," she said and pointed to a bar with many sauces on it. "Those are all the sauces, with the same temperatures. Get the Mild or Extra Mild, and then if you want to go Extra Hot, get some sauce. That way, you can take it back."

"Excellent," Harry said. "I'll do that too."

They ordered and found a table in the back. Each of them got a bottomless soda cup, except for Harry, who got the bottomless frozen yoghurt instead. Rosalie was determined to show Draco every soda and so they crowded around the soda machine, watching him do quick shots of each one until he decided on a Diet Coke.

"There's so much sugar," he complained. "I mean, I love it, but in the drinks?"

"I just adore the British Fanta," Rosalie said, with her own cup mostly full of pebble ice that she scooped out with a spoon. "If you think normal Coke is too sweet, then avoid American Fanta."

"It's different?" Harry asked.

Rosalie pointed at the lights above their heads. "This colour," she said.

"Right," Harry said, pausing. "You know, Rosalie, Hermione and I were chatting last night. What house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

"Oh, Ravenclaw, without a doubt," Rosalie replied. Draco's shoulder slumped and he frowned at her.

"Harry suggested Gryffindor," Hermione said. "Because of the way you've handled this coming on so fast."

"Oh, no, I'm not coming on fast because I'm brave. I'm coming on fast because I'm curious."

"Right," Hermione said slowly. Curious about what? Draco? Rosalie did not break face once, but Hermione was now confused. She couldn't have known about the prophecy beforehand.

"Hermione thought maybe Slytherin."

Draco scowled at Harry and then at the table at the mention of Slytherin. Rosalie shook her head again. "No. It's not where I belong. Besides, I think I'm a year ahead of you anyway. I doubt we'll have classes together. I will see all of you outside of class, though."

Harry tapped the table in front of Draco. "I was telling Hermione…" he glanced sideways at her and Hermione smiled back even though she wasn't sure what he was smiling about. "…the Sorting Hat almost put me into Slytherin."

Draco looked up, the most confused expression Hermione had ever witnessed on his face. Rosalie immediately began to shake her head. "No," she said. "No. No. You were never anything other than a Gryffindor."

"The Sorting Hat was pretty sure…"

"I think it was trying to scare you," Hermione said. "Because it knew you had a bad opinion of Slytherin anyway. It wanted you to prove your bravery for Gryffindor."

"The houses are a reflection of what you choose when all other things are set aside," Rosalie said, setting her drink down firmly. "When you don't have to worry about your family or your friends or your life. When everything is taken care of and secure, what do you go for? That's why you're a Gryffindor, Harry. If everything else were taken care of, you would go and try to adventure out. You'd experience things. If I were to guess, the ideal job for you would involve a bit of going out, conquering problems, being called "brave" and then coming back to rest and recover." Hermione quite appreciated this monologue but hid a smile by taking a sip of her Sprite. Rosalie had just described an Auror.

Then, Rosalie gestured at Hermione. "That's why Hermione's a Slytherin. Because she-"

All of the Sprite that had been in Hermione's mouth rocketed up her nose. Everyone gasped and jumped away, except for Harry, who brought the napkin dispenser closer to her. She snatched a bunch and covered her nose and mouth, gasping for air. Rosalie looked baffled. "What?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

Hermione choked on her own spit and then managed to get a bit of air down her windpipe. It wasn't like that wasn't its primary function, anyway. "I'm…" she stuttered, "I'm not a Slytherin."

Rosalie furrowed her brow. "You aren't?" she asked.

Draco reached a hand up and pointed down at himself. "I'm… the Slytherin," he said.

Rosalie's mouth dropped open as she stared and thought. "You, a Slytherin?" she asked, then began to shake her head. "Nuh-uh."

"I am!" Draco said. "I'm a Slytherin Prefect, actually." He puffed his chest out.

"You?" Rosalie started, "Draco Malfoy, who has no dreams and no plans and no hopes to become anything other than your father's successor? They put you in the house of the ambitious?"

This was a bit harsh, but Hermione could see her point. It was the same point she'd made to Harry. Draco was rightly offended. "I have dreams!" he said. "I want to do what my father does and I want to make a way for there to be phones in the magical world and I want to advertise pinballs and-"

"Those are all my dreams I've shared with you," Rosalie interrupted. "And your father's dream for you. What are your dreams, Draco?"

Draco paused. He seemed at an utter loss for words. Hermione... felt awful for him. But she could see what Rosalie was describing. Draco had never shared any goals with his classmates, aside from following in his father's footsteps. Having the best that money could buy... having power to pull strings... sure, those things were there… but were they what Draco wanted, or what someone had wanted for Draco?

How much of the person across from her was the image she'd loathed for four years and how much was the person she'd known since September? Since last week?

She let the napkins fall from her cleaned lip in thought. Had she really known Draco Malfoy? Had anyone known Draco Malfoy? Did Draco Malfoy know Draco Malfoy?

Rosalie, after too much silence, gestured to Hermione again. "Hermione is a Slytherin. She-"

"The Sorting Hat didn't consider putting me in Slytherin," Hermione interrupted. "It went back and forth between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor's a better match, but you're a Slytherin," Rosalie said. "Because at the end of the day, when every other thing is taken care of and there's nothing to do, what do you do?"

"I put my feet up and read a book," Hermione replied, getting a little angry.

"Let me put it this way," Rosalie said. "Why do you want to score well on your OWLs? What does it matter?"

"Because it determines what kind of jobs we can pursue after we leave Hogwarts!"

"And what are you pursuing?" Rosalie gestured at herself. "That's why I'm a Ravenclaw. I just want to know. I don't care what the consequences are. I'm happy to be something as simple as a librarian."

The truth hit Hermione like a train. Once, she'd heard her parents talk about trains. A speeding train could crush a car like a car could crush an empty soda can. Well, Hermione felt like a soda can in front of a train. She deflated and sank into her chair. "But…" she whispered, "The Sorting Hat didn't put me there."

"I wonder why," Rosalie said, sounding every bit as brutally honest as she'd so far shown herself to be.

Hermione happened to look across the table at Draco. The two of them sat in a stupor, but at Rosalie's words, they locked eyes. Draco's hardened and Hermione felt like an electric current had run through her. She knew they'd both had the same thought.

"Slytherin would have killed you," Draco said.

Rosalie began to shoot this idea down. "No, of course not – she belongs-"

Draco leaned over and put a whole hand over her mouth. "Not what I meant," he said. "I didn't mean the category. Not the house. The people in the house. She'd have been murdered in her bed by the other Slytherins and they'd never have been able to find her murderer." When he took his hand off Rosalie's mouth, her face had gone white. She stared, shocked, at him.

Harry noticed their food sitting under a warmer and got up to go grab it. His leaving only alleviated a small amount of tension.

Finally, Rosalie had decided on what to say next. "Why?" she asked, looking between Draco and Hermione. Harry set down Draco and Rosalie's food, with little flags and numbers showing the heat level, in front of them. Then he left again.

"Because she's a Mudblood," Draco replied. It had been so long since Hermione had heard the term out of his mouth. Not since he'd last put hair gel in. The term felt unfamiliar coming from him and – could it be? He seemed a bit uncomfortable saying it. "A Muggle-born. Slytherin House rarely even accepts Half-Bloods. Granger wouldn't have lasted the first year, and not because she's not ambitious enough."

"What about you, Draco?" Hermione asked. Harry sat back down at her side with their food. "Why were you missorted?"

Draco picked up a spoon and glanced at his reflection in it. Funny things, reflections. They can be great sources of agony when we feel we don't match them, or they can be terrific sources of comfort.

Hermione did not blame him for not wanting to speak. What a difficult lunch this had already been! But Rosalie put a hand on his bicep and he finally said, "The Sorting Hat told me it couldn't put me into the correct house. It told me it was putting me in Slytherin for my protection. I was fine with that."

Rosalie's arm rose a little on his arm. "And why were you fine with that?" She asked. "Why did you want to go into Slytherin?"

Draco set the spoon down. "Because my family had all been in that house," he whispered.

Hermione suddenly realised what Rosalie had asked the question for. She realised what house Draco truly belonged to. "Your family would have killed you," she whispered. "And all your father's friends…"

Harry put a hand down in the centre of the table, cutting her off. "I have a theory," he said. "I've been sitting on it for months. But I'm ready to share it now." He looked at each person in turn. "None of you will like it."

"What else is new?" Draco muttered.

"Hermione explained to me a few months ago that prophecies like balances and coincidences and pulling things together. Two boys, two girls. What if the pairs run deeper than that? What if the reason the Bane of Hogwarts is about us is because…" He paused, licking his lips, "Well… what if we were all different parts of Hogwarts? The four different parts?"

"All four backgrounds, as in old," Rosalie muttered. "Could be-"

"No," Draco said. "No, no, because you're a Ravenclaw and you're a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor and that would make me – no, absolutely not." He finished his Diet Coke, chugging it in a single swig, and stood. "I'm getting a refill," he told the three of them, shaking his glass. "Finish this conversation while I'm gone. We're not continuing it."

He stormed off to the fountain machine. Harry, Hermione, and Rosalie all glanced at each other. Nothing more was said, but Hermione had the private feeling that Harry was on the right track. And for some reason, she couldn't figure out why, she felt freer than normal. As if she'd known she was in the wrong house secretly, all along.

The Sorting Hat had told Draco he wasn't in the right house. Why hadn't it told her? Because she was ambitious. She would have sought that information. She would have figured it out and done everything she could, at the tender age of eleven, to overturn tyranny and reform Slytherin house.

And hey, that actually didn't sound like an awful idea. Maybe that was going to go in her list of things to do. Right before S.P.E.W.

Draco was the one who came up with the game plan.

The day after New Year's, they went to a place called Lyme Park, where the 1995 edition of Pride and Prejudice had been filmed. Lights were still strung from Christmas and they were a sight to see. They wandered the grounds and stopped in the place where Mr. Darcy had been filmed diving into the reflective lake.

"Here's our game plan," Draco said. He'd changed a lot in the few short weeks of Christmas Break. His cheeks had colour. He'd experienced the rainbow of candies and sodas that the muggle world had to offer, and he was leaving a girlfriend behind in Wigan. It was her to whom he first affixed his finger.

"You. Finish transferring. Get there as soon as possible."

To Harry. "You. You and I will figure out how to let you spy at will on the Dark Lord."

To Hermione. "You. You and Rosalie will figure out the prophecy and whether it's actually got any danger to go with it."

All three nodded and glanced at each other. "We'll meet again soon," Rosalie said. "I've got a way with getting people to let me in to places."

"Well, duh," Harry said. "You practically gave us no choice!"

They all laughed, but Hermione in particular, because it was true.

On the last day, Hermione had a craving for one last Galloways pie. While the boys were finishing packing, she snuck out of the house and wandered down to town square. As usual, the line was out the door.

While she waited, she looked at all the phones around her and wondered if there'd be a day Hogwarts would have those. That was Rosalie's dream. Hermione's, at the very least, was a library catalogue that worked like a computer, and you could search for keywords.

When she made it to the door, an unfamiliar acne-encrusted girl with an orange spray tan greeted her. Hermione smiled politely. The woman behind the counter she barely recognised, but the woman recognised her enough to start pulling out a cheese and onion pie for her. "I guess Rosalie's not working here anymore?" Hermione asked, laughing a little as she took the hot pie.

The woman behind the counter blinked at her. "Who?" she asked.

"Oh, Rosalie. She was filling in for her cousin Amelia?"

The woman's expression grew more confused. "Amelia? Redhead?"

"Well, more blonde than red, but yeah."

"She quit just before Christmas," the woman said. "But I interviewed her… that should have been Amelia working. Unless she's got an identical twin for a cousin…" The woman's accent was very difficult to understand – the Wigan accent was so convoluted that many people called it "Wiganese". But her words were unmistakable once Hermione heard them.

"Oh," She replied. "Thank you very much."

She paid and left.

Next chapter will be called The Unlucky Friend. I will post it early if I get five reviews.