Monday afternoon’s Potions class was the due date for a six foot essay on the uses and properties of moonstones in various potion types. Harry had actually got the bulk of the essay done before receiving the book he borrowed from Draco, but the book had quite a lot of information that he simply couldn’t find in the other sources available in the main section of the Hogwarts Library. Most of those uses were dark, but Harry supposed that was to be expected of any book from the Malfoy collection.As it was he was able to polish his essay and it was actually a respectable amount over six feet, but no longer than six feet six inches, as requested. It was more of a demand, actually, over the years Snape had found that unless he was very specific about an upper limit Hermione tended to turn in ridiculously long papers in very tiny handwriting. And what was worse was that he couldn’t even take points off for irrelevancy. When Snape called for the papers at the beginning of the class Harry fished his out and handed it over to his professor with pride.

“And what is that smug look for, Potter?” Snape almost snarled.

“Nothing professor,” Harry said innocently. Snape sneered down his nose at Harry and, collecting Hermione’s carefully bound roll of parchment, stalked away in a swirl of robes.

When the class was over, Harry and Hermione lagged behind a bit and, seeing that, Draco took a bit longer packing up himself. The three of them left their tables at about the same time and met at the door under Severus’s watchful eye. “I wanted to thank you again for lending me that book,” Harry said.

“Certainly, always pleased to help a classmate,” Draco replied.

“We were wondering, though,” Hermione said in her politest voice, “if you would mind lending it to us for just a little longer.”

“We got what we needed for the essay, but there are a few other things that we didn’t get to pay as much attention to as we would have liked,” Harry explained.

Draco found his eyebrows rising of their own volition. “Absolutely,” he replied.

“We just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t mind too much,” Hermione said.

“Not at all,” Draco assured her in a courtly voice.

“Excellent, thanks,” she smiled at him.

“See you later,” Harry said to the blonde as the pair walked away.

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione said, peering over her shoulder as they hurried to Transfigurations class, “Malfoy knows I’m going to touch that book and he hasn’t thrown a fit yet.”

“I know, but I told you he said he didn’t mind.”

“You know, if it weren’t that whatever is going on is probably very bad, I think I could start to like this new Draco,” Hermione said.

“Yeah. He’s almost worth knowing,” Harry replied. Hermione smirked back at him as they slipped in the door and went to sit at their customary table with Ron.

The trio was gathering their things after McGonagall’s class when Justin Finch-Fletchly stopped by their table. “Hey, Potter,” he said.

“Hello,” Harry said curiously as he looked up.

“What’s up with you and Malfoy and Snape?”

“Nothing’s up, why do you ask?”

“Because the three of you have been acting pretty strangely. Snape isn’t as mean to you as I’ve always heard, and you and Malfoy have practically been getting along lately.”

“Snape’s bound to be a little nicer to his advanced class,” Hermione said in a sensible voice.

“Yeah, I guess,” Justin said dubiously. “But what about Malfoy?”

“Honestly?” Harry asked. “I think he wants to make friends.”

“You’re not going to do it are you?” Justin wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I figure as long as he’s being nice I might as well reciprocate.”

“And when he tries to take advantage of your goodwill?”

“Then we’ll know for sure, but in the meantime we may as well give him a chance, right?” Harry was hoping to play on the Hufflepuff’s sense of fairness.

“I suppose,” Justin said at last, “as long as you’re not going dark on us.”

“I promise you, Justin, you’ve got nothing to worry about on that score.” Finch-Fletchly nodded and walked away.

-

Tuesday’s DADA brought a return to single-opponent dueling with the same partners they had had before. Professor Lyons announced that they were to practice what they had learned from writing their essays. This time he let them have most of the class. He only stopped them fifteen minutes before the end to reverse the spells they had cast on each other. He also announced the homework, a short analysis of what they had learned and whether their assessment of tactics as offered in the first essay had changed.

-

The next class they were instructed to pair up as usual. Then they were to join the pair they had dueled with previously. After that they were to find another group of four. They two groups of four would be dueling each other, thus Draco, Harry, Ron and Blaise found themselves opposing a team of Hermione, Millicent, and a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girl and boy that none of them knew very well. It was a fierce battle.

At the end of the class period they were once again stopped. “Since there is a weekend between now and our next meeting,” Professor Lyons proclaimed as the duelists cast finite charms at each other, “I want you to not only review your previous essay on group tactics just as you did for today’s class, I want you to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of your group members. Make sure that you include both positive and negative attributes. Class dismissed.”

-

That Saturday was the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game. Harry went eagerly to the pitch to meet Malfoy, knowing that the Hufflepuff players would be in a last-minute strategy meeting and probably wouldn’t make it to the pitch until quite some time after breakfast.

Draco knew this, too, and left for the pitch a bit later than usual, meeting Potter on the path to the Quidditch stadium. To his very great surprise, Draco found that he was not nearly as disgusted by the other’s presence as he had been. They were not friends, but they seemed to get along fairly well when they tried hard enough.

Perhaps, Draco mused, he could write to tell his father that he was at long last successful? And when his father received the good news he would know that his son could be trusted with more of the plan. Certainly he would tell him what was going on. Surely he would.

Harry reentered his dormitory wondering what had caused Malfoy’s oddly triumphant mood. The Slytherin hadn’t even pouted when Harry had beaten him to the snitch. Preoccupied with these thoughts, Harry was startled when, as he was putting his broom in his trunk, he heard a throat being cleared from the next bed over. He looked up to see Ron trying not to glare at him. “You know mate, if you wanted to fly that badly, the least you could do was invite to come.”

Harry heaved a sigh, closed his trunk, and sank down onto his own bed where it was nearest Ron’s. “No,” he said, “I couldn’t.”

“And why’s that?”

A flush was beginning to spread through Ron’s face and Harry looked away for a moment. “Because I was already flying with someone, and he doesn’t like you, and you don’t like him, either.”

“Oh,” Ron said, anger building in his voice as he continued until finally he finished with a furious hiss, “I see. You’re giving up your old friendships for this new whoever-he-is. Our years of friendship mean nothing to you!”

“Our friendship, your friendship, has meant more to me than you can know,” Harry said softly, “and it still does.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it!”

“OY!” Dean hissed suddenly, “keep it down over there; some of us aren’t ready to be up yet!”

Ron glared at Harry and Harry gestured the redhead over to sit next to him. “Will you let me try to explain first, please?” Harry asked.

“You better try to explain,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “Otherwise I’ll hex you, and I’ll have Ginny hex you, too.”

Harry winced at this threat and took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve been flying with Malfoy.”

“Malfoy!” Ron interjected.

“Hey!” Seamus said, “Keep that git out of our dormitory.”

“Yes,” Harry whispered, “he’s been acting really strangely lately and I thought if I accepted his invitation I could figure out why.”

Ron gave him an annoyed look, “And you didn’t think to tell me? Does Hermione know?”

“She knows,” Harry admitted heavily.

“And she didn’t think to tell me either?” Ron replied indignantly.

“She did,” Harry hastened to reassure him. “She’s been nagging me to tell you for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I was afraid you would think I was abandoning you or something. Or that you would think that I thought that your efforts to keep me involved with the team weren’t enough.”

“Well they weren’t enough, were they?” Ron muttered sourly.

“Ron,” Harry sighed. “I really, really appreciate that you’ve tried, I really, truly do. But no matter what we do, it’s not the same as actually being on the team.”

“No,” Ron said, “it’s not the same as having you on the team either. We miss you mate.”

Harry gave him a small half smile. “I miss all of you, too.”

“So what do you and Malfoy do, when you’ve got the pitch all to yourself?”

“Play seeker’s matches, mostly, and broom tag.”

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’re helping him practice Quidditch? Is he getting better?”

“Not really,” Harry said reassuringly, “I still beat nearly all the time.”

“You beat him, but can Liza beat him?”

“I think so, Liza’s got real talent. Besides, the Slytherin-Gryffindor match isn’t for ages. There’s plenty of time to train her up.”

“There’d better be,” Ron said mock-seriously, “or I’ll use you as a target at bludger practice.” Harry gave a small laugh. “You do realize the reason why Malfoy’s acting all weird is probably just to get you to train him this way, right?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said doubtfully, “something tells me there’s something bigger than that.”

“Does this have anything to do with what happened over the summer, which you still haven’t told us about?”

“It might,” Harry said, noncommittally.

Ron sniffed when he realized that Harry wasn’t going to give him anymore details than he already had. “Come on then, let’s get washed up for breakfast. I’m starved.”

“You’re always starved,” Harry said teasingly as he stood and gathered his shower kit. Ron just shrugged and smiled as he picked up his own toiletries. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” Harry asked as they left the room.

Ron rolled his eyes at him. “I can’t believe you’re flying with that bloody, ferrety git, but I’m not mad at you for trying to figure out what he’s up to. You’re Harry Potter, that’s what you do. I’m still a little angry that you didn’t think you could tell me about it though.”

“I really am sorry, Ron.”

“I know,” Ron said cheekily as they arrived at the showers. “That’s why I’m not very angry with you.”

He ducked into a stall as he said this and Harry was left staring at the curtain. “I’m going to be pranked for this, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Almost definitely,” Ron called cheerfully.

Harry sighed. “Suppose I deserve it, don’t I?”

Ron peeked out of the curtain, “Too right you do,” he said seriously. “The next time you go around telling secrets you better make sure you tell me, too. I’m not saying you’ve got to tell me everything, just make sure you tell me if it’s important enough that you’re telling everyone else.”

“I will,” Harry promised.

“You’d better,” Ron replied as he ducked back into his stall.

“I will,” Harry repeated as the water came on. Heaving another sigh he walked into his own cubicle and got ready to take his own shower before heading to the Great Hall.

The game took place at the usual time and Harry was seated in the stands beside Ron. Hermione was sitting on the other side of Ron. She claimed she was there to take advantage of the sunlight, though Harry suspected that she considered the match another excuse to spend a bit of free time with the gangly redhead.

After a few minutes Ron said, “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Hermione commented.

“That’s not my fault,” Weasley protested as he withdrew some candy from his cloak pocket. “Every flavor bean, Harry?” Ron said offering him a few of the treats in the cupped palm of his hand.

Harry thought he had spotted the snitch on the other side of the pitch and so absently said, “Thanks,” picking one up and popping it in his mouth.

The next moment all thoughts of the snitch had vanished as he found himself on his feet and singing “I’m a Little Teapot” complete with hand motions. He sat down when he was through, amidst much laughter, cheering and applause.

Red-faced, he turned to his friends to find both of them snickering at them. “Very funny,” Harry commented, which sent them over the edge and both ended up clinging to each other they were laughing so hard. “May I consider myself pranked now, or shall I be on the lookout for something else?” Harry asked with a grin.

“No, I definitely got you good with that one,” Ron assured him breathlessly.

“You certainly did,” Harry agreed.

“Now let that be a lesson to you,” Ron said in a falsely-stern voice, just before he collapsed once more into laughter.

This time, Harry joined him.