Transfiguration started late on Friday, as the arrival of their professor was coupled with the announcement that McGonagall still needed to grade a stack of assignments from her other NEWT level classes. She implored the four of them to use this time to meditate, as it would benefit them greatly to do so. Before she could cast the encasement charm, Draco regally declined—mainly due to the encouragement of Hermione.
While she cheered with him, Ron sat beside her on the bleachers, slack-jawed.
Harry, on the other hand . . . well, Harry wasn't paying attention.
He was staring off into space, thinking again about the letter Draco had wrote to Hermione. He never would have guessed Draco could be so heartfelt, so vulnerable. Even now, Draco had foregone the need for a protective shield, but he would never admit the reason why. There was no tension between him and the golden trio anymore. In fact, he considered them his friends. (minus Ron, but that was a work in progress)
It was too sappy and sentimental for Draco to confess, but it still went without saying. When Draco asked them if they would fare well without the additional precaution, they agreed emphatically. The absence of magical restraints perturbed all of no one.
Draco seemed surprised by this.
"I figured by now you would've heard the rumor going around about me," he professed, "that I'm going to curse the school. . ."
Hermione became vehemently affronted, "What a load of rubbish!" She descended down to the bleacher row where Draco sat to comfort him with a hug. "Don't let them get to you, Draco."
Ron whispered angrily to Harry, "What's gotten into her?"
Harry had to monitor his terrible poker face to avoid rousing Ron's suspicions, lest they be without basis. He understood his frustrations, though. It had only been a few weeks, but Hermione and Draco seemed incredibly close. In Ron's eyes, she was more affectionate and doting with Draco than she was with him.
Harry just shrugged, averting his eyes, hoping Draco would be able to clear up the misunderstanding at the right moment. Draco whispered something to Hermione that neither Harry nor Ron could hear, and it seemed to stop her from hugging him.
She pulled away with pink burning on her cheeks. Ron cooled down momentarily after, though he despised the secrecy displayed between the unlikely duo.
Hermione spoke sweetly, as if trying to remind Ron how much she loved him without saying it,
"You should show Harry the book we found."
Ron chuckled harshly, "You mean that I found." He thumbed through the books in his school bag. "It was in between two Quidditch magazines—"
When he looked up, he stopped blabbering. Hermione had a scowl on her face, one eyebrow raised severely. Ron relented, knowing he wouldn't have been in the library to begin with if it weren't for her.
"Okay, okay, we found it," Ron said, handing the book to Harry while trying to shed the fright from his face. "Since you figured your Animagus might be a bird, we thought it could help you."
Harry accepted the book gratefully and thanked them both, not really caring who found it. The book was filled with photos of feathered creatures of all kinds—some magical and others not. The pages featured large enchanted pictures similar to those in the Daily Prophet but in full, vibrant color.
Despite what everyone assumed about him, Harry didn't mind reading; he just didn't like feeling forced to read. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, though, and they knew Harry would find it easier to picture his Animagus with more of a visual aid.
Ron clarified, "It's mainly for wizards who like birdwatching, but I figured you'd be able to use it for reference."
Harry beamed as he and his friends assumed their usual places for meditation, knowing the book would be a huge help to him.
Ron claimed his spot at the top of the bleachers, and Hermione meditated rigidly at her desk. Harry was in his corner, flipping through the colorful pages of his book. There was white text overlay, introducing each bird by name, followed by several paragraphs of filler about every creature that Harry didn't feel obligated to read.
Since Draco had already transformed into his Animagus once, he was busy reading through textbooks that detailed the controlled transformations of Animagi.
Hermione exclaimed from her desk and drew the attention of everyone in the classroom. She had black feathers sprouting from her elbows and the tips of her fingers. She was thrilled, despite how odd it looked. Ron came closer to inspect the black-as-night plumage on Hermione.
"Definitely not a parrot," Ron stated dryly.
Hermione affectionately rolled her eyes with a giggle. Draco returned to his copy of So You've Found Your Animagus, determined not to lose focus—trying his best not to laugh.
Harry, photography book in hand, strolled over and sat at the desk next to Hermione. "Maybe you can use this," he offered.
Hermione contemplated the book's contents. She used her fingers to bookmark images of birds with plumage most like hers, careful not to let the sturdy pages tug at the feathers upon her fingertips. She held out her other hand curiously in the light and noted that the feathers were glossy and iridescent—they shifted to hues of purple, blue, and green.
"Maybe a crow or a jackdaw?" Ron ruminated eagerly.
Draco turned around, prying his eyes away from the textbook in front of him, and added his two cents, "It can't be a jackdaw—their feathers don't shift to different colors in the light."
"So you're a crow." Harry chimed to Hermione, "Your Animagus is a crow!"
Hermione looked unconvinced, as did Draco. He suggested thoughtfully, "Or a raven."
Harry and Ron crowded around Hermione and the photography book to find the page which depicted a bird with glossy black feathers and shaggy neck plumage. The enchanted photograph played like a movie as the corvid squawked. Its beak was shapely and large in proportion to the rest of its face.
Hermione breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, drowning out the excited chatter between her friends. Her arms careened backwards as her sprouting feathers thickened into wings and her figure shrank below the desk.
A black blur fluttered past Ron and Harry—much like a soaring hawk.
McGonagall straightened the spectacles hanging off her nose with a start, "Phenomenal, Ms. Granger! Twenty points to Gryffindor!"
Hermione's black wings flapped rapidly as she braced her gray talons for the landing. She perched upon the edge of Draco's desk, heedful not to scratch his textbook with her claws. She looked up at him inquisitively. Draco had clearly never seen a raven up close before; he appeared a little green in the face, in the presence of such a large bird.
Harry smirked mischeviously, "You know, I hear ravens eat snakes."
Draco skittishly shifted in his seat, "Stop that!"
Hermione cawed with her wings in the air and mimicked Draco's words in a loud, robotic warble. He was so frightened by it that he transformed into his Animagus with a yelp.
Ron peered over the desk to see the discombobulated barred grass snake coiled in the chair. Ron shook his head, "Never heard a raven before?"
"I've never heard one speak English before!" Harry marveled. McGonagall chuckled as Hermione mimicked Harry's voice, too.
Ron petted the raven gently. He clarified, "Not a parrot, but still very similar."
Draco slithered up the back of his wooden chair and flicked his tongue at Harry.
"Don't let Hermione eat me," he hissed, "or I'll haunt you forever."
Harry laughed at the mental image of a ghost snake following him around. Hermione opened her beak and offensively spread her wings at Draco. The snake seemed to tremble anxiously.
"Hermione. . ." Harry tested, "leave the terrified green noodle alone."
The raven backed down, mimicking Harry saying "green noodle" amid the commotion of Ron's bubbling laughter.
She batted her wings, lifting into the air. She circled a vacant area in the classroom before landing gracefully and returning to her human form. Ron darted over to her and wrapped Hermione in a bear hug of congratulations while she beamed with accomplishment. Draco returned to his human form shortly after, though, with less celebratory enthusiasm.
He leaned back decorously in his chair toward Harry, "I think it suits her. Ravens are remarkably intelligent." Harry couldn't help but agree. Draco blushed slightly, laughing a bit at himself, "I just didn't know they could speak."
"I'm suprised that I knew that, and you didn't," Harry said. His remark trailed off without reply when his eyes found Hermione and Ron. They sat at the top of the bleachers, together, as Hermione helped him meditate properly, with experience of her own to aid her teaching.
Harry brought the photobook back to his lonely place on the floor and scanned the pages again, having lost his place. He was looking at a picture of a hawk until he detected a certain wizard approaching with jaunty gait.
"Don't feel too discouraged," Draco said a little smugly, though Harry knew this was his attempt at sincerity.
"I'm not."
Draco's suit wrinkled as he begrudgingly sat down beside Harry. "Remember—no reminiscing." He advised, "Think of nothing besides the incantation and your animal."
"But I don't know my animal. . ." Harry whined.
Draco rolled his eyes tiredly and slid closer to take a peek at the photography book. He instructed Harry to turn the page once he finished reading each introduction, as if he were looking for something specific. He didn't read the entirety of each page, but he seemed to have an idea of what exactly he was searching for.
"Stop," Draco said, pointing to a page on peregrine falcons, but he changed his mind, "Too vicious."
Harry read along and gasped, "They're bloody fast!"
"And they have amazing eyesight," Draco said, pointing to a line within a paragraph that Harry didn't read.
Harry frowned, "Wouldn't that be nice. . ."
Draco turned to the next page himself and smirked, "Try this one."
Harry had to make sure he wasn't just messing with him, but Draco seemed very sure of his prediction based on the book's description and personality of the creature.
At the end of Transfiguration class, Harry snapped back to reality to find his vision was blurred and incredibly disoriented through the view of his glasses. He took them off, put them back on, and took them off again as he walked towards Hermione and Ron on the bleachers.
Hermione choked on her words, "Harry! Your eyes—!"
Ron was equal parts perturbed and thrilled, "They're solid black!"
Harry shoved his glasses into the pocket of his hoodie and ran to Draco, who jumped at the sight of his appearance. Before he could comment on how creepy he looked, Harry badgered him, "I need a mirror."
Draco paused to figure out if that offended him or not, "What makes you think I would have a mirror?" He addressed the others in the class who also looked at Draco expectantly, "Do you all think I'm that vain?" He rummaged through the pockets of his school bag grumpily while muttering under his breath. With an upset shake of his head, he handed Harry a golden compact mirror.
His eyes were like voids—the blackest of black. Nothing else had changed on his face, from what he could see, but he was satisfied with the fact that he made any progress at all.
He light-heartedly pined, "I can even see without my glasses!" Upon taking a second glance at the mirror, he recognized where he had seen it before. "Isn't this the thing you bought at Utter Clutter?" Harry nagged, "I thought you were going to give it to Deja. . ."
It was unlike Draco to procrastinate. He grinned sheepishly and assured Harry, through gritted teeth, that he would get to it sooner or later. Harry gave the compact back to him and positively jumped at the sight of brown feathers along his forearm. In the time it took for him to register that they even existed, the feathers vanished without a trace. He blinked to make sure he was seeing properly with his new and improved vision.
"I had feathers! I don't know where they've gone. . ." He murmured. Soon after, the ruminative rictus of Draco blurred. The only details Harry could make out from his surroundings were the lines on his palm as he brought it close to his face. He cursed under his breath—his eyes had also reverted to their original state.
Draco ineffectively comforted him, postulating that the black scleras would've only freaked Deja out. It was better this way, even with Harry's severe myopia.
McGonagall picked up the papers on her desk and announced that class was over, congratulating the entire class on their noble efforts and Hermione, specifically, for achieving a full Animagus transformation.
After gathering her things, Hermione descended the bleachers like stairs. Ron followed after her, a little despondent, but still happy to congratulate Harry's progress. Before Hermione left for ancient runes, Ron turned to hug her goodbye, revealing a fluffy tail with copper-colored fur.
"Woof, Weasley!" Draco chuckled, all too pleased with himself.
Ron looked down at his newly discovered tail and whooped with his fists in the air. Hermione suggested going to the Three Broomsticks later that evening to celebrate, giving a discreet wink to Draco, as a well-concieved plan fell into place.
-x-
That Friday's Care of Magical Creatures lesson was on the Demiguise—an orangutan-like creature with the ability to turn invisible. Half the class was spent looking for it.
Draco, to the incessant prodding of Harry, finally asked Deja about joining them on a Sunday expedition to Stump Cross cavern.
"That sounds awesome!" Deja cheered, "I'd love to."
Harry fully expected her to say yes, but he was still happy nonetheless. He prompted her, "Don't wear anything too nice, though. I wouldn't want you to ruin your favorite outfit. Draco won't be dressing casually, but that's just because he's Draco."
Deja's chipper laughter mollified the indignation Draco felt toward Harry's comment. He just like to dress nice. Was that such a crime?
Harry stared at him knowingly throughout the length of their conversation, urging him to cave and give Deja her gift. He figured now was as good a time as ever, but Draco held his ground and refused, even after class ended.
Once Deja skipped away to the castle, Draco elbowed Harry in the ribs. "Stay out of it, Potter," he spat.
"If you're nervous," Harry bartered, "just say that."
Draco pouted, whispering that he would give her the compact set after breaking the news of his past misgivings.
Harry accused him of planning to buy her forgiveness, but Draco denied the accusation. In his words, such a good gift needed to be saved for a moment when giving it felt justified.
They bickered about this all the way to the Three Broomsticks, much like children arguing over which Zonko's product was the best. They would've quarreled for longer, but Hermione called them both crybabies and rebuked them for such childish behavior before entering the pub.
The Three Broomsticks was cozy and decently crowded, though less suffocatingly than it was on weekends. Hermione let Draco pick a table farthest from the earshot of other patrons, and they ordered Butterbeers all around. Hermione sent a warm and encouraging smile to Draco, telling him that everything would be okay.
Ron became flustered with jealousy, "Let's keep the flirting to a minimum, shall we?"
Hermione simply laughed, as did Draco. Harry tried his best not to, deciding to avert his eyes to a pair of antlers nailed to the wall.
"You think that's funny, do you?" Ron fired.
Hermione kissed Ron on the cheek, "I love you, Ronald, but you get jealous over the most insignificant things. . ."
She fished Draco's letter from her bag and handed it to Ron, inclining for Harry to read it, too. He obliged, merely staring at the letter until he felt it had been long enough to be believable.
"I'm glad you told us. . ." Harry said supportively. He faked astonishment, not saying anything else lest it prevent Ron from reading to the end.
Once Ron had finished reading, he seemed to be still processing it all. Finally, he smiled, "Thank Merlin."
Draco didn't know how to interpret that reaction. "I beg your pardon?"
Ron explained, "I thought you were trying to steal Hermione from me."
Draco shook his head emphatically as Hermione lectured Ron about jumping to conclusions, and how she was her own person, not property. Draco and Harry sat at the wooden table awkwardly, watching the back and forth of Ron sputtering and Hermione scolding him eloquently.
"No one will be stealing me away." Hermione preached, "I make my own decisions, Ronald."
Ron apologized and waved away the foolishness of his comment, for even thinking such a thing. He hugged her as a remedy. Hermione scared him sometimes, but he kind of liked that about her.
"As you can imagine, she's not really my type," teased Draco, "She was just the first one I told—well, aside from my mother, but that didn't end well." The rest of the table did not find this joke to be nearly as funny as Draco did. "What? It's funny! You can laugh."
But Hermione and Ron only exchanged awkward and obligatory chuckles. Harry laughed genuinely because of how effortlessly Draco disquieted the pub's welcoming, jovial atmosphere.
A waitress in a brown canvas apron brought four Butterbeers to the table, locked eyes with Draco, and left before anyone could thank her.
He took it in stride, "It's alright. I'm fairly used to people not liking me." He took a sip of Butterbeer nonchalantly, pretending to be unbothered.
Harry's grin slanted as he thought back on the first few days of the semester. Draco was once impossible to read and even more difficult to understand. Now, however, things were different. He sensed a lingering sadness in Draco's words, despite how upbeat he appeared. He wondered if the others could see it, too, or if he had developed a keen sense for seeing through Draco's mask, all on his own.
Ron encouraged the Slytherin, thinking back to the letter he read, "They'd probably like you a lot more if they knew you weren't loyal to You-Know-Who."
Draco raised his brows and put his glass down with a clink, pensive, not meeting their eyes. "That doesn't matter to me," he proclaimed.
Harry growled, fed up with him, "You always say that! Doesn't anything matter to you?"
Draco straightened his posture, challenged, "What matters to me is not living with guilt anymore—knowing everything that happened, in one way or another, has led me here."
Hermione half-smiled, "People like us understand that logic better than most, I'm sure. Right, Harry?"
Harry was still contemplating Draco's reply. He nodded absentmindedly. Ron mimed Harry's zoned-out state by waving a hand in front of his widened eyes. Harry didn't even notice.
"So how is your potion faring?" Draco asked Hermione.
She neglected to point out how Harry was suddenly aware of the conversation after Draco had initiated it. Instead, Hermione gushed about what it was like to brew Amortentia, "Ginny says it smells like her mum's mince pies and cookies, but I keep smelling spearmint toothpaste and vanilla shampoo."
"I love vanilla shampoo!" Ron chimed absentmindedly.
Hermione simply stared at him, blinking slowly until it clicked. Ron blushed violently.
"How goes your potion?" Hermione inquired, "The Cure for Dark Magic Wounds?"
"We still need to collect some of the ingredients," Draco considered. He asked Harry if he had owled Slughorn for the bezoars and Ashwinder eggs yet.
Harry nodded, "No word from him, yet."
"We're going to the Muggle Yorkshire this Sunday to get one of the items on the list." Draco bantered, "Would've been sooner if Harry didn't get Saturday detention." Draco snickered to himself.
"You got detention already?" Hermione harped.
Ron marveled, "That's got to be a bloody new record!"
Harry reminded him about second year with the Ford Angelina—they practically got detention the second their semester began because they crashed Arthur Weasley's car into the Whomping Willow. Ron couldn't dispute that.
Hermione tutted at Harry, "If you'd only focus on your studies, you wouldn't need to worry about getting detention all the time."—Draco laughed tauntingly, but Hermione didn't intend to blame Harry entirely—"You needn't egg him on, either!"
"It's not like I want him to get in trouble! " Draco said defensively, "I mean, really, it's quite exhausting."
Harry hissed back, "You're exhausting." Draco laughed, expecting him to respond like that.
Hermione wasn't buying it. "You say that like you don't spend every day together. . ."
Harry and Draco looked at each other sourly, as if they were forced to be friends against their will and weren't doing so voluntarily. They couldn't dismiss what Hermione purported without any evidence, so they just minimized the assertion.
Harry huffed, "I just tolerate him."
"He's tempermental, but at least it's entertaining," Draco shrugged, deciding to provoke him. "Hot-head."
Harry glared furiously, becoming more and more enraged as he replied to each one of Draco's taunts. Hermione and Ron watched them throw insults back and forth as if spectating a wizard tennis match of Swivenhodge.
"Pompous prick."
"Half-wit."
"Bleach blond!"
"Death wish!"
Hermione and Ron exchanged side glances before interrupting their escalating squabble, not wanting to draw a crowd.
"Can we save the fighting for later, please?" begged Hermione.
Harry and Draco denied that they were even fighting at all—maintaining that they always did this. Harry was secretly miffed that he didn't get the last word. He thought for sure "Casper the stuck-up twat" would've knocked Draco off his game, finally earning him a win for the record books.
As a pureblood, Draco didn't understand references to Muggle cartoons, and thus he would have no way of deflecting such a well-crafted insult.
"I promise we're not actually mad at each other," Harry said firmly.
Draco agreed, though he didn't express it explicitly, "It's just what rivals do."
Hermione pointed out the flaw in Draco's logic, "You can't be rivals and friends at the same time."
"We have our moments," Harry half-agreed. He and Draco drank their Butterbeers indulgently, in sync, as if a very good point had been made, despite the fact that one hadn't.
"You know," Draco smirked at Harry, "I'm actually glad you're not dead."
"Moments like that one. . ." Harry rolled his eyes, "Touching, Draco—really."
Draco raised his half-empty glass of Butterbeer to Hermione and Ron and proclaimed exaltedly, "To living!"
They brushed off the peculiar nature of the previous conversation and picked up their glasses, too.
"To living!" They cheered in unison, all except Harry.
Draco held his glass out patiently to him with a snarky grin. Harry sighed and clinked his glass cup to Draco's, unenthusiastically, and took another swig of Butterbeer.
Hermione asked Harry and Draco if they were going to the Chamber again tonight, and Harry nodded.
Ron tittered sarcastically to Hermione, "Shocker." She kicked him under the table.
Draco tried to argue with Harry, claiming that he didn't intend on going back until they had more potion ingredients.
"I thought you still wanted to learn the Patronus charm," Harry reminded him.
Draco pensively looked to his left in order to recall discussing such a thing several days ago. He mumbled, "I forgot about that." Draco was not forgetful, and Harry knew this. He called his bluff.
"I'm not gonna let you chicken out that easily."
"I'm not—"
"Then let's go now," Harry propounded, exiting his seat quickly.
"What?" Draco wavered.
"You heard me."
Harry knew Draco was just feigning absentmindedness to disguise the apprehension he felt about potentially failing in this endeavor.
Hermione wanted to assuage Harry's zealousness but didn't, knowing this lesson would be for the best. Without it, Draco would be completely defenseless if he came across a Dementor in the countryside. While he could always just keep close to Harry, she knew how much Draco disliked having to rely on someone else.
"You're in good hands, Draco." Hermione beamed, "Harry taught us, too!"
Harry and Draco each left two sickles on the table to pay for their Butterbeers. Harry told his friends goodbye and to enjoy their date.
Ron quipped with relish, "You too!" His cheesy smile fell in the wake of simultaneous glares from both Harry and Draco. Once they left, Hermione kicked him from under the table once more.