The next day was relatively uneventful save for an encounter with Malfoy just before Potions class. Harry was standing in line waiting for Snape to come when Malfoy sauntered up to him. “Potter,” Malfoy said to get his attention.

Harry turned to see that the blonde was standing alone and that Crabbe and Goyle were standing on the other side of the corridor. “Yes?” Harry said warily, mindful of promising Snape to be less confrontational over the summer.

“What are you doing in this class? Last I heard you were taking remedial potions.”

“That was last year, Malfoy,” Harry said stonily.

“You must have had a very good tutor, then, to enable you to get into this class in so little time.” Draco continued.

“Very good,” Harry confirmed.

“Well, let’s hope it was enough, shall we?” Draco said before walking back to his cronies.

“That was odd,” Hermione whispered to him.

“Very odd,” Harry agreed, “He’s been like that all year.”

“I wonder what he’s up to,” Hermione said suspiciously.

“So do I,” Harry replied.

At that moment Snape swooped down the corridor to let them into the classroom and all chance for conversation was at an end.

Tuesday’s classes passed quickly and it was soon enough time for the Gryffindor Quidditch practice again. This time as the rest of the team was walking out of the common room Ron stopped next to the table where Harry sat with Hermione. “Hey, Harry,” Ron said as his friend looked up from the text before him.

“Yeah?” Harry questioned.

“You want to come to practice? You could give Liza some tips on being seeker and just watch the practice. You know, to see if there’s anything you think we should do differently, or anything…”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be at practice unless you were on the team,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well, it’s never stopped anyone else, has it? Besides, I’ve got permission from McGonagall.”

Harry looked down at the parchments in front of him. “I’d like that, Ron. But not today, I have to finish this Potions essay before tomorrow.”

Ron made a face but said, “I understand. Next time then?”

“Sure,” Harry said, “Next time.”

“Right, see you then,” Ron said as he walked off. Harry nodded and looked at Hermione, who gave him a smile, before turning back to his essay.

The next Quidditch practice was on Friday, and Harry got enough homework done before it that he felt he could go with a clear conscience. Ron wanted him to sit where everyone could see him, but Harry insisted on sitting in the back of the stands where he could remain mostly unnoticed. “I’ll see more if they don’t know I’m here,” he said to his friend by way of explanation. Ron agreed and headed over to the changing rooms where the team usually gathered.

Half an hour into the practice, Draco decided to make his move. He had followed Potter as usual and was a little surprised to see him climb into the stands while the weasel went off to practice Quidditch. Professor Snape had said not to make any direct overtures, but after his father had sent him two notes already inquiring as to his progress with the Boy-Who-Lived. His father did not tolerate failure.

Also, given the satisfactorily non-confrontational manner of their last interaction, Draco felt he might be able to manage a short conversation without hexing or being hexed. It was worth a try anyway. After all, Potter was a Gryffindor, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t hex without provocation, right?

With these thoughts in mind Draco Malfoy climbed up the stands to Harry’s seat. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, indicating the seat one away from Harry’s.

“No,” Harry said looking at him suspiciously. “What are you doing here, Malfoy? Are you trying to spy on Gryffindor?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Draco asked with a smirk and a tilt of his head.

“No,” Harry said bluntly.

“Ah, well,” Draco shrugged. “Actually, I was wondering why you weren’t out there on your broom,” the blonde continued after a moment.

Harry, who had turned back to the pitch, examined the Slytherin prefect from the corner of his eye, “What do you mean you were wondering? You heard Umbridge last year I’m quite sure.”

“You mean to tell me that they didn’t repeal the ban for famous Harry Potter?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Come to rub it in?” Harry growled.

“No, I’m actually quite surprised.”

“Well, look at it this way, Malfoy; you may actually have a small hope of winning a match this year. Then again, we do have a new seeker…” Harry trailed off with a wicked smirk.

“Oh, I’ll win this year. Malfoys always win,” Draco replied pompously.

“Right, except when they play against Potters. Then they tend to come out looking rather bad, don’t they?” Harry said, a mixture of innocence and condescension.

Draco worked very hard not to snarl at the annoying Gryffindork before him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said haughtily.

“I’m sure,” Harry replied, eyes laughing.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Draco said, rising. He hated Saint Potter, he truly did.

Harry smirked at him as he walked away, but shook his head in confusion when Malfoy was out of sight. What was going on here?

When at last practice was over Harry congratulated Ron on putting together such a good team. The redhead flushed with pride before asking, “Did you see anything that really needs work?” That launched an in-depth discussion of tactics and player strengths that carried them through dinner, much to Hermione’s exasperation.

Severus discretely watched Harry at dinner that night. He seemed happy, which was a relief as he had been somewhat moody lately. Severus had attributed it to the beginning of the quidditch season and had been considering ways to distract him. It looked like the Weasley boy had come up with a solution. Snape hoped it didn’t distract Harry from his homework.

Speaking of distractions, Severus glanced over at the Slytherin table. Something was troubling Draco again. He seemed happy enough true, but his head of house could see it in the tension of his shoulders and the slight crease between his eyebrows. Perhaps it was time to have another talk with the young man. The only question was when. Saturday was the first Hogsmeade weekend and Sunday he had arranged to meet Harry again. Perhaps the following Monday? Unless, of course, the prefect came to see him before then. It would be disastrous if the Malfoy heir were to run into Potter in his office. Perhaps he should send Draco a note to set up the meeting, that way there would be no dangers. With a small nod to himself Severus turned back to his dinner.

Ron and Harry talked quidditch until they got back up to their dormitory. They had just gotten changed into their pajamas when Ron walked over to Harry’s bed. “Harry, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Harry said in surprise. “Sit down,” he patted the bed next to him.

Ron seated himself and glanced almost furtively around the room. “Are you going into Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

“I’d planned to,” Harry said, “Why?”

Ron was silent and a deep flush crept up his cheeks and tinted his ears. “How, how do you feel about—about,” the redhead fell silent.

“About what?” Harry asked, beginning to be thoroughly confused.

“About Hermione,” Ron finally squeaked out.

“I like her,” Harry said, “She’s a great friend. One of my two best,” he said as he nudged Ron with his elbows. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Ron said hastily.

“Do you fancy her?” Harry asked.

“What?” Ron asked in shock.

“Do you fancy her?” Harry repeated with a smile.

If possible Ron’s flush deepened. “Maybe,” he muttered.

“Have you considered asking her to Hogsmeade?” Harry said with a grin.

“Actually,” Ron said haltingly, “I was sort of hoping you’d take her.”

“What?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Well, I don’t mean like a date or anything. I just mean, keep an eye on her, keep her from following me.”

“Ron, you’re not making any sense,” Harry said.

“Look, I managed to save up a couple galleons over the summer and I want to get her something really nice for her birthday. I want it to be a surprise, so would you mind making sure she doesn’t follow me or anything?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Harry agreed, “I can do that.”

“Thanks, mate.” Ron said as he stood up.

“You bet,” Harry assured him as his friend crossed to his own bed and pulled the covers down before climbing in.