"I can't believe you actually managed to fall off the broom, Neville. Seriously. Weren't you holding on at all? She even showed you how to hold it properly."

"Really? Draco, she never showed me. She spent a while showing you, though. And after you were saying how often-"

"Shut up." Draco's cheeks turned pink while Hermione laughed, raising a spoonful of the soup they had brought up from the Great Hall for Neville to her own lips.

"Well, I have to thank you both for getting me out of that."

Draco smirked, unable to resist the temptation of the moment provided. "Oh? Is the great Hermione Granger relieved to have missed a chance to learn something?"

"It's not that! It's just that I would-I'm of the opinion that human beings should keep both feet firmly on the ground. It would be-it just makes more sense. If human beings were meant to fly, evolution would have provided us with wings."

"Evo-what?" Both Neville and Draco looked at her in confusion.

"It's a muggle theory-"

"That says humans today are designed by nature to survive."

"That's ridiculous."

"I didn't say that. Don't look at me like I did, Draco- though that is what it is, more or less."

"You didn't?"

"I'd think the male voice would be a dead giveaway, Malfoy."

At this, the three of them looked towards the door of the hospital wing. Harry Potter stood there, pushing his glasses back up his nose. For the first time since they had started at Hogwarts, he was alone. "You lose the Weasel somewhere, Potter?"

"Shut it. No. He's down at dinner. I wanted to check on Neville."

"We didn't ask why you're here, Harry," Hermione pointed out. She stood up, intending to leave Neville and Harry alone. When Draco didn't move, she paused. "Draco?"

"I refuse to leave because Potter's in the room. He doesn't really need that much space; he can put up with my presence for a few minutes." He had developed a habit of leaving the room whenever his father came in while the two of them were staying at the Manor, in an attempt to avoid a strong feeling he was too young to understand. Potter wasn't his father; he would not treat the so-called 'Boy Who Lived' the same way Lucius Malfoy demanded to be treated.

Hermione was quietly impressed with Draco's choice of words. Neville flinched. Harry, on the other hand, stared at him for a long moment before he shrugged. "Whatever you say, Malfoy. I'm just checking on Neville. You okay, mate?"

Neville blinked blankly at him until Hermione nudged him. At that point, he nodded, cleared his throat, and nodded again. "I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute. She told me to stay here and rest, though, and Hermione and Draco came to visit."

"Did they really?"

""Neville is my friend, Harry," Hermione snapped. "Besides, we brought food. See?" She raised the bowl of soup.

"Neville's your friend," he echoed, seeming reluctant. "Really?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Calm down, Draco. He just means that I'm unlikable and have no friends because of it. I've heard Ron Weasley say it more than once- he's not as quiet as he seems to believe he is. Honestly, half the time he seems to be yelling. I'd say it's a wonder nobody has jinxed him, but we haven't learned enough for that to be a real possibility. Not yet, at least."

"Hey, I'm your friend. I'm her friend. You hear me, Potter? She's got friends."

"There's only one of you, Malfoy."

"I was counting Neville, too. You count, don't you?" He shot a look at Neville that said rather clearly what his answer should be. Neville didn't seem to see it, though, as he frowned at Harry.

"Of course we're friends. Hermione's been really nice to me, Harry, and Draco helped me find Trevor on the train."

"Didn't Hagrid find him?"

"I tried, alright? Shouldn't you be getting back to dinner with Weasley?"

"Ron was-"

"Why are you talking to Malfoy?"

Draco, Hermione and Neville each stiffened when the second newcomer spoke. Ron must have followed Harry up to the Hospital Wing, to arrive so soon after. Not surprisingly, his mouth was still full of whatever he had eaten for dinner, muffling his speech. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione grimace. He almost smiled at her inability to prevent herself from letting the whole room know what she was thinking.

The smile died when Ron opened his mouth again.

"What're you doing so close to Neville? If you're trying anything-"

"I just explained myself to your master, Weasel. Ask him."

"Draco, be nice. We're visiting Neville. If he's friends with Harry and Ron, they're as welcome as we are."

"Well, apparently that's not actually very welcome."

"Oh, drop it, would you? There's a time and a place and an infirmary isn't it. I'm sorry, Draco, but that's the fact."

Harry had, apparently, said something to Ron, because he'd stopped trying to accuse the bookworm and the snake of any ridiculous plan to harm Neville. He'd even produced the Remembrall, smiled to himself, and tossed it to Neville, who didn't catch it. Draco did, grinning.

"So what's the big deal with this? Your gran sent it, right? Does she think you're going to forget something important?"

"Probably. I'm pretty forgetful."

"It was rather unfair of her to send it, anyway," Hermione chimed in, apparently thinking it was a good time to speak up. "Remembralls are silly joke pruducts designed to confuse and cause distress in whoever holds them. They're like a magical version of a muggle magic-eight ball or an Ouija board; they prey on the gullible. It was rather mean of her to send you one. Even if you are forgetful."

"Oh, shut up, Hermione," Ron snapped, irritated all over again. "Just because you'll be a bloody Malfoy doesn't mean you can go around insulting everyone. Especially not your so-called friend -"

"Ron-"

Draco was on his feet almost immediately, reaching for his wand. "Don't you dare talk about her that way!"

Ron's wand was already out and in his hand, unicorn hair glinting at the tip. "I will fight you right here, Malfoy, just give me a reason."

"No," Hermione stood up too, grabbing Draco's arm after his wand was drawn. "Absolutely not, Draco, don't you dare-"

"What are you doing?"

Neville cringed as the matron came out of her office at last, glaring at the group. Hermione opened her mouth to explain it, but was distracted by Draco lowering his wand, her fingers brushing against his side before she released his arm. Oh, Merlin, that tickles.

"He started it," Ron said instantly.

"Get out! Get out, all of you, and I'll be calling your Head of House, don't you think I won't! Professor McGonagall will know that her Gryffindors have been fighting in the Hospital Wing!"

"I'm not a Gry-"

"Out!"

✦

"He started it," Ron muttered again. Hermione glared at him.

"Drop it, Ron. All you're going to do is make things worse."

Hermione and Draco were sitting on one armchair, Draco taking the seat and Hermione having perched on the arm after a long moment of staring at him. Ron had shoved the other armchair as far away as he could force it, then had childishly claimed it for himself. Being as tall as he was, when he sprawled out he took up the entire seat. With no room to sit, Harry was left standing in the middle, staring out the window at the grounds.

"I'm not sure that's actually possible," Hermione said, her tone quiet. She was staring at the wall. All this time to get to Hogwarts, and she was going to be expelled, wasn't she? Maybe if I explain. If I tell the truth, and I tell Professor McGonagall that Draco and Ron were the ones fighting, maybe then I won't be thrown out with them. Maybe if she did it right, she could even get Draco out of trouble. Not Ron, though. That Ron Weasley was a troublemaker through and through.

Professor Minerva McGonagall strode into the room at that exact moment, muttering a spell and aiming her wand at first one chair, then the other, expanding each into a two seat sofa. She had tracked them down separately, Harry and Ron in their Common Room, Draco and Hermione in the library. Then she had sent the four of them to her office to wait while she spoke to Poppy Pomfrey and Neville, finding out what had happened. Neville's input was more help than Poppy's, though the poor boy seemed torn between sides. "Ron drew his wand first, but he did it because Draco reached for his after Ron complained about something that Hermione said. I don't understand what. It didn't make sense."

"Why are we all here, Professor?" Draco asked instantly, having moved to the left to let Hermione sit. Minerva wasn't blind to the action, only just managing to stop herself from raising an eyebrow in surprise. A Malfoy, chivalrous? What a world we live in.

"Mister Malfoy, you are here because you and Mister Weasley saw fit to draw wands on another student- on each other, according to Madam Pomfrey. What is the reason for this?"

"Weasley drew his first," Draco snapped.

"Hermione insulted Neville. Then Malfoy got all defensive and tried to pull his wand on me, so I pulled mine first. That's it." Ron was staring at the wall; it was rather obvious that this was not, in fact, 'it'.

"I did no such thing!" Hermione cried, annoyed. "I was just telling the truth. A Remembrall is a toy for children, not a real magical object, and Neville's easily upset, so of course that's what's going to happen, I was just saying-"

"Miss Granger, please be quiet. It is obvious what the cause of this tension is."

"Yeah, Malfoy's ego."

"At least I can afford to have one, Weasley, not like you."

"Mister Malfoy, Mister Weasley, please! This is because of the circumstances. The arranged marriage."

"What?" Harry said in surprise.

"It is not!" Ron snapped, his tone defensive.

"More likely he's just mad because his one doesn't care about him." As Draco said this, he smirked.

"If it is, Professor, then why is Harry here? He's not caused any trouble." Seeing the look Draco and Ron gave her, she frowned at them both. "What? It's true. He doesn't even talk to me, really, only Ron does that."

"Yeah, by constantly saying awful things. Hermione, you shouldn't have to listen to that."

"I'm old enough to learn magic, Draco, I think I can manage ignoring some bullying."

"Some what?"

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy! Honestly," McGonagall looked like she'd rather be anywhere other than where she was, seated at her desk and watching them bicker before the fireplace. "You'd think you were the most immature students of your year, and not the most mature. Stay quiet, all of you," she snapped, looking around as if daring them to challenge her. Then she cleared her throat and began again.

"Of course it's about the marriage law. I believe that this is because of the differing circumstances between the four of you. Allow me to try to reduce that difference.

"It was created to apply to all wizards and witches who were not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts, or any other magical institution, at the time. It's largely because the Weasley's are the only pureblood family who have managed to produce as many heirs to their bloodline as the Ministry has deemed 'acceptable'. Mister Malfoy, you're an only child. Many of the children you grew up with are as well. The Ministry believes that this is because of a defect in pureblood geneology. The purebloods were to choose their would-be brides or husbands from a selection of muggleborn and halfbloods who would be in their own year, or the year above. The theory is that this so-called marriage law will increase the rate of magical births to the old families by mixing new blood into the old. The process would involve a pureblood selecting a partner, who would be pulled from future selections so as to avoid scandal. In the future, there would be a ritual-a sort of predecessor to a true magical wedding ceremony. A ring would be given, or a pendant, it was really up to the pureblood in question. There's a spell involved that seals the bond, preventing any deviation. It's old magic, very old. Professor Dumbledore himself helped to research it.

"The unfortunate thing is, most purebloods were unable, or unwilling, to select their partner. A lot of it was arranged through the Ministry instead when it became clear that their planned process would be 'too time-consuming'. They substituted in a process they have since insisted is fair and well-considered but which probably consists more of pulling names out of a hat, so to speak. And the gifting of the ring has been delayed for the less wealthy purebloods, as well, for obvious reasons."

"I picked Hermione," Draco pointed out, "and the Ministry didn't have anything to do with it."

"You would pick the freak," Ron muttered. Draco glared at him and McGonagall shot him a disapproving look. Then she moved her gaze to the Slytherin, her expression calculating. Hermione got the impression that she was trying to decide whether or not he was lying.

"He really did choose me over everyone else there," she defended.

"Everyone knows that Malfoy picked his future wife, Professor. My dad says it was appeasement. Keep Lucius from killing someone."

"Mister Weasley," McGonagall snapped. "It would benefit you substantially to develop some form of self-control. As it is, that may be so. Miss Granger is marked as a future Malfoy, regardless of the circumstances. It does not change who she would be without that ring. Does it, Miss Granger?"

Hermione started, not expecting to be addressed directly. She answered nonetheless, eager, as ever, to be the know-it-all. "I don't know for sure, of course, but I believe I'm the same. I probably have more books. I know I have more knowledge of the Wizarding world than I would have without Draco sending me these books."

"Precisely. I advise you stop treating her as though she is some form of outsider, Mister Weasley, especially as she is a student in your house alongside you and Mister Potter! And Mister Potter, I expect you to ensure Mister Weasley remains civil, if nothing else."

"Yes, Professor." Harry hesitated, "Do I have one? A match?"

"I believe so, Mister Potter. It would have been selected at random, however, as Mister Weasleys' must have been."

"I see. Thank you."

"You are, each of you, dismissed. Hurry back to your dormitories, it's past curfew."

That had them bolting. Draco found his way back to the Slytherin common room quickly, as there were only two floors between McGonagall's first-floor office and the dungeons.

The three Gryffindors had six floors to travel through. On their way, they almost ran into Filch, the caretaker, and his eerie cat, Mrs Norris. Then they came upon a locked door, which Hermione was able to open swiftly, revealing the monstrous secret beyond.

"It was standing on a trap door," Hermione snapped, "guarding something, obviously. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if nothing changed between us, Ron, except for you to stop insulting me behind my back when I can obviously hear you. It's clear that befriending the two of you is just too much trouble."

She left the words hanging over them as she bounded up the stairs to her dormitory. Merlin, was she exhausted after the chaos of a not-quite flying lesson.