The rest of the week passed quickly and without much to disturb the routine that was settling on the inhabitants of the castle. They went to classes and practices as usual and did their homework in the evenings. On Friday Harry once again trekked down to the Quidditch pitch with Ron and hid himself in the back of the stands, and he was once again joined by Draco Malfoy, who remained mostly silent. On Sunday Harry snuck into the dungeons and practiced occlumency with Snape.On Monday Harry and Ron went to the Great Hall for breakfast with the expectation that everything would be much the same as usual, but found to their surprise that Hermione, usually among the first to arrive, was not at breakfast yet. She came in with barely half an hour to spare red-nosed and glassy-eyed. She was quite pale and had dark half-circles under her eyes. “Hermione!” Ron exclaimed when he saw her, “You look terrible!”

“Gee, thanks, Ron,” she said sharply.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked her in concern. “Should you go see Madame Pomfrey?”

“I’ll be alright,” she replied, “I don’t want to miss class.”

“Hermione,” Ron said in exasperation, “there are more important things than class. Like your health. You’re going up to the infirmary whether you like it or not.” He stood up and walked round to stand behind her chair.

“No, really,” Hermione protested, “I’m fine!”

“Come on, ‘Mione,” Harry said, standing himself. “You are going to see Madame Pomfrey, even if we have to mobilicorpus you there!” With a sigh she got up and allowed them to chivvy her off to the hospital wing.

When she got there the matron clucked her tongue in remonstrance. “If you’d come to me as soon as you started feeling unwell I could have given you some Pepper-Up potion to take care of it. Now there’s nothing for it but to get some rest,” she said as she shoved Hermione into a bed. “Now don’t worry dear, I’ll send a note round to your professors,” she reassured the protesting witch.

“I’ll take it, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry volunteered. “I’m in most of her classes anyway,” he continued.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” the mediwitch replied as she wrote out the note and handed it to him. Briskly she ordered them to clear out and let her work, though they were to come back if they started feeling ill themselves. As they left they saw the nurse rummaging in one of her cupboards as she withdrew several vials of different-colored potions.

The two boys hurried to Charms where Professor Flitwick charmed the lecture notes and homework assignment on to a scroll which he presented to Harry after class. Hit with a sudden idea, he asked the tiny professor to show him how to charm a quill to record notes in class. Fifteen minutes later he and Ron were walking back to Gryffindor tower. “Honestly, Harry,” Ron said, “you’re getting to be just as bad as Hermione! Doing your homework all the time, and what’s with this new charm?”

“Hey,” Harry said, punching his friend lightly on the arm, “I’m not that bad. Besides, the quill charm is purely for my own protection.” He laughed when he saw the disbelieving look on his friend’s face. “No, really,” he said, “I don’t fancy trying to repeat all the lectures for her word for word.”

“No, I guess not,” Ron agreed, “especially Snape’s and McGonagall’s. Hey, speaking of the greasy git, you think you could get Madame Pomfrey to get you out of it?”

“I think she’d see through that, Ron,” Harry said, frowning at his friend’s description of the professor.

“Yeah, you’re right,” the gangly youth sighed.

Later that afternoon Harry descended to the dungeons, which were cooling rapidly with the progression of autumn, and sat in his usual seat. Soon afterward Professor Snape swept in and surveyed the class from the front of the room.

“Where is Miss Granger?” he asked Harry with deceptive softness. “Perhaps she thought that she could afford to be exempt from today’s class?” he inquired, fixing his student with a penetrating gaze that could have been called a glare.

“No, sir,” Harry protested. “Hermione’s in hospital wing. I’ve got a note for her from Madame Pomfrey,” he continued, proffering a folded and slightly wrinkled piece of parchment which he fished out of his pocket.

Snape took the note and, with a faint sneer, perused it rapidly before saying, “Very well, Mr. Potter; you will work with Mr. Malfoy today. I suggest you move your things quickly, I do not wish to delay the class any further.”

Harry frowned but nodded, complying swiftly and silently. Truthfully he’d been hoping to avoid the blonde prefect a little longer. His recent…polite behavior was disconcerting to say the least. He couldn’t help wondering what the Slytherin wanted. He’d even refrained from baiting Ron, though he’d certainly had the opportunity. He had even complimented Hermione on her locket, for Merlin’s sake! Perhaps, Harry mused, Snape had had a word with him, too? Or was something more devious afoot?

Harry nodded uneasily to the welcoming gesture Malfoy offered him when he had reached the new table. Within moments Snape launched into full lecture-mode and Harry hardly had time to do anything but charm the quill for Hermione and struggle to take good notes of his own.

When the practical application bit of the lesson arrived, Draco sent Harry off for the supplies, which garnered him a resentful glare. He took the moment to reflect on Potter’s non-confrontational behavior. He wasn’t sure what had engendered a change in his opponent’s behavior, but whatever it was, he was grateful for it. This whole business would have been made immeasurably harder if Potter were still pulling his wand every time he walked up.

The unlikely pair worked smoothly together, particularly as both seemed determined not to let the other get him a bad grade. Severus was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly the period went. When the end came and the class was cleaning up both students presented him with samples of nearly-perfect potions.

The two were packing up their personal supplies when Draco spoke. “You know, Potter, I’ve been thinking.”

Biting back a retort about how he hoped that hadn’t been too difficult for the blonde, Harry contented himself with saying, “Oh?”

Malfoy’s eyes flicked up to him momentarily before returning to his kit. “Yes. I don’t think I’ve seen you on a broom since last year.” Harry was silent. Draco glanced at him again. He took a deep breath and continued, “You must miss it.”

“Miss what?” Harry said, shooting for an off-hand tone and failing.

“Flying. Especially with others.”

“A little,” Harry admitted after a moment’s consideration.

“Why don’t you fly with me?” Draco suggested.

“What?” Harry asked, certain he had misheard.

“Just a friendly game of Seeker’s Quidditch, nothing big.”

“And just why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy sniffed, “I just thought you might enjoy an opportunity to be in the air again.”

Harry looked at him with narrowed eyes. He was tempted, he admitted. “What’s in it for you?” he asked.

“The chance to play against a talented opponent,” Draco said smoothly.

“I’ll think about it,” Harry said, shouldering his bag and walking away.

Draco let out a small sigh. That had actually gone rather better than he’d been expecting. Perhaps this task wasn’t as impossible as he’d thought.