Title: Smarter Than The Average Ferret

Pairing: Ron/Hermione, minor Draco/Astoria

Category: Humour

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ron defends Hermione's honour, and Draco has a very bad day indeed.

-0-

" – And I know that Celestina Warbeck's a singing sensation and can date whoever she very well wants," Pansy continued, twirling a quill around her fingers, "but really, a Healer from St Mungos isn't exactly the man I'd have picked for someone who could pass for a Veela; and honestly, I read in Witch Weekly that he's a distant cousin twice removed or something, I didn't pay attention, of the Nott family; and honestly, Theo's a prat! Not that I'd say anything to him about it of course. And Rita Skeeter was right, of course, Celestina Warbeck's getting past her twenties and her options are probably running out, but a Healer? Who knows where their wand's been at the end of each day! And she used to be dating that Keeper from the Norwegian Quidditch team, I can never pronounce his name – "

Draco Malfoy was, without a doubt, in hell.

Not only had he another two detentions from that old bat McGonnagal to get through because apparently the stress of his father's incarceration was no excuse not to hand in Transfiguarion homework , but apparently Pansy felt the need to flip through Witch Weekly with almost vicious intensity and read aloud the highlights of every single sodding article she found, and then present him with an expansive running commentary of every single sodding article in the damned magazine. And what had started as a gentle pain against the back of his skull had grown with leaps and bounds into a thudding, pounding, angry baby elephant of a headache, stomping through his skull and trumpeting loudly whenever Pansy let out a squeal.

Which, given the sensationalism of the bloody article, was every fifteen seconds.

If he hadn't promised his mother every single time she wrote that yes, as Pansy was a good pure-blood girl, he'd continue to allow her to think they were – eurgh – dating, he'd have thrown himself from the Astronomy Tower.

" – but I know he was tall and blond – just like you Draco – and really, they seemed to get along so well, I honestly thought they'd have the prettiest children – "

Besides the bench they were currently sprawled against in the Entrance Hall was a spiralling, grand brick pillar. He began to knock his head slowly against it.

Honestly. He'd once overheard a rumour that Granger had dubbed Pansy as 'thicker than a concussed troll'. And while he'd promised Pansy he'd hex the girl for it, he couldn't help privately thinking the know-it all was once again right on the money.

He was certain that, were this anyone else inflicting him with this nauseating rubbish, it would be their purpose to get on his nerves. But somehow he doubted Pansy had the brainpower to come up with that idea. Grey eyes scanning desperately through the hall for anyone who would break this ridiculous spiel, he passed over a group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws in his year, over Astoria Greengrass (who was intent on reading a book and unsuccessfully hiding a smirk when she glanced over. Wench) and to Weasley and Granger, who had just entered and were bickering childishly amongst themselves. Well didn't that just enhance his deep and passionate desire to die?

"- I think I actually have the article where they broke up!" Sweet Merlin, was she still talking? Draco twitched slightly as Pansy leant over to press a smacking kiss against his cheek. "I'll nip back to the dungeons and get it Draccy!"

Aargh.

Finnegan and Thomas were openly snickering as she hurried away. Gits. Why in the world he was forced to sit here and listen to hour upon hour of that ridiculous, infuriating rubbish without even being able to just turn around and tell Pansy to –

"For God's sake, Hermione, just shut up!"

"Me shut up? Me shut up? It's not my fault you didn't pass that Apparation test Ronald Weasley! Maybe you should just have concentrated a little more!"

"Oh, just get lost will you?"

That…wasn't fair. Draco glowered back at the arguing pair as they continued to shriek at each other like a couple of banshees. Not only where they prompting the baby elephant of a headache to sprout into a giant woolly mammoth that continued to stomp against all the tender parts of his brain, but Weasley was telling Granger to shut up. Where was the justice in that? Why should he be allowed to tell Granger to shut up when he wasn't even allowed to tell Pansy to put a sock in it?

It wasn't fair.

And he needed someone to make just as miserable as he currently was.

"Trouble in paradise?" he sneered derisively. "And here I thought you two were made for each other."

Of course, as soon as he opened his mouth Weasley immediately spun around to glower at him. "Butt out, Malfoy."

It was entirely possible that he could have backed off and left the two to argue, as they always did. Then again, maybe if he taunted Weasley for long enough he might be merciful enough to murder him before Pansy returned.

"I mean, Granger's such a know-it-all that she can balance out whatever pitiful excuse for brains you have, Weasley…"

"Ladies and gentlemen; presenting the famous 'Why I Am A Bastard' routine, from Draco Malfoy," Astoria muttered sotto voce.

He ignored her.

"And Weasley can balance out that regrettable lack of magic in your blood, Granger." As the red-head twitched, one freckled hand straying dangerously close to his pocket, Draco watched him with malicious intent. Go on Weasley – go for your wand and I can blast you straight into the middle of next week.

Either that or I can go to the hospital wing with whatever ridiculous excuse for a 'hex' you send my way and hide from Pansy.

Both options worked for him.

"After all, a little Mudblood like you needs all the magic she can get, right?"

Ha.

Weasley's face had turned almost as red as his hair. Impressive. "You call her that one more time Malfoy and I swear to God…"

"What; Mudblood?"

He was staring at the business end of Weasley's wand before he had a second to blink. Hospital Wing it was then. Comfy sheets and bed rest for a week…

"That," Weasley snarled, drawing back his wand, "is," down it came in a vicious swipe, "it."

And then he could feel the organs of his body constricting, the sensation that he was going to be sick rising through his gut as he felt his body shooting towards the floor, his skin prickling with acute ticklishness, and the agonising feeling of something growing at the base of his spine, poking straight through his skin…

And then thought: Oh no. Not again.

-0-

He'd never had a hallway full of random students – some of which he barely knew – burst simultaneously into applause just for him.

It was a nice feeling.

"Thank-you! Thank-you very much!" Ron replied smoothly in response to the deafening torrent of applause reigning down on his head (it was very definitely a Hell Yeah moment), taking a moment to make a sweeping bow. Because he wasn't conceited or anything, certainly didn't have an over swollen head like that git Malfoy, but nonetheless it was due to his nifty little bit of spellwork that the small, pure white ferret was currently running around in a panicked daze at his feet, in the place of a six foot something snarky little tosser. He resisted the urge to raise his hands above his head and accept accolades.

Seriously, this was brilliant. Seamus was wolf-whistling, Dean cheering wildly, Terry Boot and Antony Goldstein were holding their sides from laughter. A pair of seventh-year Hufflepuffs he'd never even met were clapping, that Greengrass girl had nearly collapsed from shrieking with giggles, and Hermione…

…Was folding her arms with a very arch, very long-suffering expression, and sighing.

"Oh, Ron."

Well that was…something.

Alright so it wasn't the 'Oh Ronald, my saviour! You've defended my honour from the ghastly Slytherin sod, now let us steal off and snog in the deepest, darkest corner in the library to our heart's content!' he was sort-of, maybe expecting slash hoping for, but it was…something.

Not that he'd ever really want Hermione to call him 'Ronald'.

Still, she could have sounded a bit more grateful.

"Good, eh?" he grinned, somewhat appeased to see the first hints of a smile twitch at her mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How did you learn to do that spell?"

"The day Mad-Eye – well, that Death Eater really – turned him into a ferret." Ron shrugged, unable to quell the triumphant grin tugging at his lips. "Went into the library and found the spell. Practised the arse off it. What d'you think?"

She blinked.

"You barely study for your OWLs and yet you spend half your nights learning that particular spell?"

"Well. Yeah."

"Oh, Ron."

Huh.

Definitely not what he'd expected.

Lavender would have appreciated the gesture. Lavender would have called him a hero. Lavender –would have shrieked, flung her arms around his neck until he nearly choked, and called him 'Won-Won'.

Maybe Hermione's response was better.

"Brilliant, Ron!" By now Dean was slapping his knees and crowing with glee. "Go on mate, go for gold, bounce him like Moody did!"

This was met with almost universal cheers. Cat-calls and whistles were echoing throughout the hall; Astoria Greengrass had actually started a chant of 'BOUNCE HIM, BOUNCE HIM' amongst the audience that was beginning to cluster around.

Consequently, the ferret was squeaking even louder than usual.

Ron smirked, raising his wand once more –

"Ron, no!"

- and lowered it again. Glumly.

"What? You can't say the slimy git doesn't deserve it!"

"I most certainly don't say that, but it's terribly dangerous! You have to change him back!"

"I bloody well don't!"

"Ronald Weasley!"

Bugger. Fine. With a distinctly dark scowl on his face, and to an accompaniment of boos from disappointed students, he waved his wand and uttered an incantation beneath his breath.

The ferret twitched its nose at him.

He blinked. Waved the wand, added a flick for good measure, murmured the incantation in a hopeful voice.

A pair of beady black eyes watched him from the ground level.

The incantation was growled through gritted teeth.

Draco Malfoy remained stubbornly in ferret form.

Ooo-kay.

Bastard. Staying as a ferret just to annoy him. That was probably it.

…and had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn't change him back.

"Ron," Hermione hissed sharply beneath her breath, managing to feign a smile as all eyes continued to rest on the squeaking rodent on the floor, "please tell me you know how to change him back."

He grinned sheepishly back at her.

"Oh, Ron!"

"Well I didn't ever think I'd need to change him back, did I?"

Students were beginning to turn away, assured that this was simply going to dissolve into another patented RonHermioneBickerFest, and with no chance of seeing Draco Malfoy being bounced merrily down the hallways of Hogwarts. Anyone who had intimately studied the transformation of humans into ferrets and vice versa were conspicuous in their absence. Only that Astoria Greengrass picked her way over to where Hermione was now wringing her hands and mumbling something about 'if he was a toad I could probably change him back', and grasped the sleek white ferret by the back of the neck, drawing it up to eye-level even as it struggled to be set down.

"I think it suits him like this," she remarked primly, holding the animal at arm's length. "But if you can't change him ba – "

"Fascinating as your beloved pet must be, Miss Greengrass, I find myself unavoidably in need of your," pause in which the blazing power of a thousand sneers was flung into a single word, "assistance."

Ack.

Snape.

The Head of Slytherin House.

Standing inches away from where a Slytherin pupil had been zapped straight into a ferret.

He'd rather liked Hogwarts. He certainly didn't want to be expelled from it.

As Ron made a rather strangled sound, his skin draining to a particularly sickly shade of grey, Astoria let out a squeak, spinning around directly into the face of the most universally feared man at Hogwarts.

"A-A-Assistance, Professor?" Her arms rather reluctantly folded around FerretMalfoy in what could possibly have been considered a gesture of fondness.

Snape's eyes fixed coolly onto the animal in question. "Yes. Regrettably, as the entire host of sixth years in this school seem too feeble minded even to tell me where one student is, I must ask someone else. Where's Draco Malfoy?"

The ferret let out a shrill noise.

"M-Malfoy?" Astoria was trying not to glance at the bundle of fur in her arms. "Wh…Why would you be looking for h-him?"

"I'm not aware that the business between Mister Malfoy and myself is of your concern, Greengrass," Snape remarked, ignoring the sudden bout of coughing behind him. "I merely wish to enquire as to his whereabouts and is there something lodged in your throat that you wish have removed, Weasley?"

Ron swallowed hastily. "Maybe he's at Quidditch practise, Professor?"

One eyebrow raised. With another Look, Snape graced them with a further sneer and swept off.

"Quidditch practice," the younger girl murmured scornfully as the Potions Master swept off, entirely reminiscent of a big, bad-tempered bat. "As if the broom could take off with his over-inflated head weighing it dow – ARGH!"

Decisive proof that the ferret could indeed understand human speech was shown beyond all doubt as the white-blond ferret pointedly sank its sharp little teeth down into Astoria's finger. Who of course dropped him, allowing the creature to scamper with maddened abandon down the corridor.

"Oh!" This from Hermione, horrified as she began to pelt after the animal. "Come on; we can't let him get out of the castle!"

"Draco! Come back here you furry little sod!"

So. To sum up: he, Ron Weasley, had been the one to defend Hermione's honour, and yet Ferret-boy Malfoy was the one even now being chased by the girls.

Riiight.

-0-

"I can't believe you turned him into a ferret."

Ron glanced up from the third book on Animal Transfiguration he had pulled from the shelf. "Look, I said it might've been a mistake, alright? And that Greengrass kid's looking for him; we've got every transfiguration book the Library can hold, what more d'you want?"

Click of the tongue. "Yes, but honestly Ron, what happens if he gets out of the castle? Blunders into the Forbidden Forest? There's dangerous creatures in there, he could get seriously injured!"

"Good!"

"Oh Ron, don't!"

"I didn't realise you were so worried about Malfoy's safety."

A sniff.

Pause. "Oh God Hermione, you're not, are you?"

Incredulous splutter. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you've started caring about arrogant pricks, is it?"

Another pause. Another, very icy pause.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know bloody well what that's supposed to mean! Cormac bloody McLaggen, that's what that's supposed to mean!"

"Ron – that is completely – if you even think – " Injured sniff. Eyes narrowed, as if to suggest the owner was seriously contemplating how upset Madame Pince would be about a brutal murder in the library. "You know all this research we have to do? Let's not talk while we do it."

"Fine by me."

-0-

Bernie the ferret was, objectively speaking, a beautifully rare creature, the only albino ferret kept in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He lived most of his life comfortably nestled on the pillow of his owner, Chessie Goldstein, and was all in all very well behaved whenever anyone tried to stroke him. He would have been, if the idea of morality and values ever cropped into a ferret's brain, considered a good ferret. As it was, he knew that life was and would always be good, and relaxed throughout it.

Today, however, he was curled up on Chessie's lap, one pink eye drowsily dragging downwards as she sat outside the Great Hall with her Ravenclaw friends. Completely ignorant of all that went on around him, until a frantic flash of white whizzed by, stumbled to a halt, and paused directly in front of him.

Bernie the ferret was not a bad ferret. But he might possibly have been considered a little dim, for a ferret; and he was also lonely.

And the first thing that entered his mind when he saw the white shape was 'pretty girl ferret'.

Approximately ten seconds later, the rodent formerly known as Draco Malfoy let out a horrified screech and set off in sheer animal terror down the halls of Hogwarts once more.

And Bernie the ferret faithfully bounded after him, merry in the knowledge that his new lady friend would eventually stop playing hard to get.

-0-

"Oi! Malfoy! Come straight ba – out of my way!"

Robes catching down against her ankles, Astoria leapt over the outstretched legs of a pair of lounging fifth-years, dodged a dying firework as it whizzed lazily through the hall, all the while cursing merrily under her breath. Honestly, all this trouble just to restore Draco to his original, admittedly extremely offensive human form. It was almost worth leaving him as a ferret just to see which particular wild animal from the Care of Magical Creatures lesson would eat him first.

Her finger was still bleeding profusely.

A ferret was a rather vicious animal. Surely no-one would mind if she stamped on his tail when she caught up with the rotten beast. Just a little bit.

Hair stuck out in mad spirals from her head, one ankle was already dragging from a rather nasty jump over a crate of Potions supplies. She was just beginning to give up – when a blur of white flashed before her eyes, darting beneath an extremely attractive seventh year's skirts even as she shrieked.

Well. It was certainly acting like Draco.

"Got you!" And with that Astoria Greengrass proved once and for all that she damn well should have been picked for Sneeker in the team by making such a spectacular floorwards dive for the ferret that even Victor Krum would have been impressed.

-0-

"I have him," Astoria gasped half an hour later, cradling a much more docile ferret against her shoulder as she wandered into the library. "And I brought reinforcements."

Ron scrutinized the older Greengrass sister with barely hidden dismay. He only knew Daphne Greengrass by sight, not exactly being buddy-buddies with any of the Slytherin crew. All he knew of her was she was part of that Pansy Parkinson's gang, and if she said one unpleasant thing about Hermione's hair -

"Brilliant."

Of course, she could just stare at his handiwork with a look of utter fascination and praise his brilliance for turning Malfoy into a ferret. That was fine too.

"I don't care what house you're in, Weasley," Daphne drawled lazily, one arm slung over her younger sister's shoulder, "or even if your entire family are full to the brim with blood traitors. This is brilliant."

"…Thankyou?"

So even Malfoy's housemates were pleased he was turned into a ferret. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Hermione coughed brusquely. "Regardless of Ron's apparent brilliance; we still don't know what's going to turn Malfoy back."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes!"

"Personally I think he looks a lot better like this."

"Sounds a lot less offensive."

"Turn Mister Malfoy back from what, Miss Granger?"

The fifth, unknown voice was enough to turn Ron's knees to jelly. McGonnagal was far less likely to use an Unforgiveable on him than Snape, but as for detention for the rest of his natural born life…Ron grimaced sourly, turning around in time to see his Head of House narrow her eyes suspiciously at the animal cradled in Astoria Greengrass' arms. Perfect. He could almost see the memories of Mad-Eye bouncing FerretMalfoy up and down whizzing through her mind.

Sometimes he wished McGonnagal's memory wasn't quite so brilliant.

"That ferret, Mister Weasley, looks awfully familiar." Her eyebrows drew up. "Is that – "

"Malfoy," Ron answered glumly. "In all his furry glory."

The look she gave him could have sharpened diamonds.

"And who – "

"Weasley," Daphne answered smoothly. "Weasley's wonderful wandwork."

Ron returned her words with a glower. Apparently Greengrass' appreciation for his handiwork wasn't enough to stop her dobbing him in, even if it was delivered in pretty sharp alliteration.

Whipping out her wand, McGonnagal plucked the ferret warily from Astoria's arms and placed him on the floor. There was a single flick of the wand.

A second.

A third.

"Mister Weasley, it appears you are mistaken."

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"Whoever this is," McGonnagal cast an arch look at the animal on the floor even as it began to snuffle curiously at Hermione's shoe, "it is not Mister Malfoy. Which begs the question from the four of you; where is he?"

-0-

Gasp.

Pant.

Gasp.

Bloody Weasley. Bloody Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and everyone in this bloody school with a bloody lousy sense of humour. Bloody Astoria Greengrass. Bloody stairs. So many bloody stairs. Bloody cats. More bloody stairs. Bloody, bloody amorous ferrets.

Worst. Day. Of. His. Life.

Panting little animal pants, the ferret let out a snuffle as he scrabbled his paws against the bench in front of him, pulling himself up with savage effort. By the flashes of colour above him, this had to be the Great Hall, and by the smell of things, it was lunchtime. Well, that was something at least.

"Food. You eating?"

"Yeah. Starvin'."

Crabbe and Goyle! Surely they would get him out of this mess!

"Don' use the fork, Goyle. Can't eat soup wivva fork."

…Ookay.

Maybe not.

Crabbe and Goyle were barely practicing spells on a second year level. How could they reverse this?

"You seen Draco anywhere lately?"

He let out a squeak. Why was no-one looking down at the bench? Couldn't those oafs look down for two bloody seconds?

"No. Ain't he poking around in the room of Re-quier-ment?"

"Don't know. Hasn't arsked," Goyle cleared his throat awkwardly, "for a lookout recently."

"Well I don' care," Crabbe muttered somewhere up above him. "Just as long as he stops makin' me drink that stupid potion, I don' care. C'mon, I want some lunch."

"Right."

Draco glanced up from the bench approximately two seconds after the ominous shadow started to cast down upon him.

Wait a minute.

Oh no. Oh no.

This was not going to end well.

The ferret closed its eyes with what would be classed, had it been human, as a look of sheer terror on its furry face, and bared its tiny musteline teeth.

"ARGH!"

Goyle flung himself into the air.

"The stupid thing bit me in the arse!"

Still squeaking miserably, the ferret leapt down from the bench and once more fled down the length of the Great Hall. Yep. This was, without a doubt, the worst day of his life.

-0-

"Hey! Hey Luna!"

The Ravenclaw glanced up idly from her work as Ron and Hermione hurried over; the Greengrass sisters and Professor McGonnagal in hot pursuit. She knelt beside a tiny, portable cauldron, the flagstones of the floor littered with various ingredients. Dragon scales dug into whatever surface they could, wormroot curled against the cauldron. And, trembling and shivering, lay a pure white-blond ferret at her side.

"Good morning everyone." Luna gave a polite look upwards. "Ronald; did you know you've gone a curiously bright shade of red?"

"Alright Lu –" No. He has to ask. "What're you doing?"

"Mixing a potion to promote the activity of Wrackspurts."

Ah. Well, he had asked.

"Luna…is that your ferret?"

She smiled, stroking Malfoy behind the ear. "No. But it's a beautiful specimen, isn't it?" Daphne gave a snort even as the younger girl reached beside her to pick up a surprisingly pointed knife. "I'm given to understand that diced ferret liver is most effective in encouraging healthy breeding in Wrackspurts."

An extremely shrill squeak from Malfoy.

McGonnagal started forward. "I really don't think that will be necessary Miss Lovegood – "

"Oh go on Professor, let her!"

"It'll be nice to know he's doing some good at last."

The McGonnagal Stare of Death, Doom and All Other Unpleasant Things swept back at the two girls.

Daphne and Astoria meekly subsided.

It wasn't fair, Ron thought miserably as the ferret was plucked between a finger and thumb with poised deliberation and held by the scruff of the neck as it squeaked, and Luna absent-mindedly stirred her cauldron. Malfoy had probably had an interesting experience, had a bit of exercise, seen what it would be like to have an Animagus form (there was no way the little sod could turn into anything but a ferret as an Animagus. No way). No harm done. And yet, in about thirty seconds, once the Slytherin had been transformed back into his natural state – and he had to agree with the Greengrass sisters; his natural state was far more offensive than his ferrety one – McGonnagal would turn the Stare from the current proceedings and rest it firmly on him.

He gulped.

"I expect the five of you to take particular interest in this," Hermione dimpled prettily at the approving look from their Head of House, "as I do not doubt your interest in Transfiguration will be greatly deepened by this little…incident." As Ron snorted, the older woman smoothly brought her wand down in a direct flick. "One…two…"

The little white figure began to spin flamboyantly, growing and growing until the teacher calmly let go. By the time his feet had touched the ground Malfoy was at the same size as he'd always been, very much free of fur and tail, and looking as if he was about to be sick. His skin was faintly tinged with green.

Luna smiled hazily. "How very interesting."

"You – wha – " He buckled, heaved, and then glanced up past the blond hair that was now plastered over his forehead. When Ron took a step backward the Slytherin made a valiant attempt to lunge forward. Probably would have throttled him if Daphne and Astoria hadn't both grabbed an arm, patiently wrestling him back into place.

McGonnagal arched a single eyebrow. Despite the fact that in his sixth year he was at least two inches taller than the woman, he subsided meekly.

"Mister Malfoy, I expect a trip to the Hospital Wing for a calming tonic will greatly soothed your… frazzled nerves," she deadpanned. The eyebrow rose further.

Alright, so McGonnagal was a terrifying old bat, but he did love her for the sarcasm. Malfoy's scowl was threatening to turn into a pout.

She smiled calmly, turning to Astoria. "Miss Greengrass, I'm sure, will be more than willing to accompany you…" her eyes softened as they fell upon the girl's wounded hand; always the soft spot for sardonic, bookish types, "as I see she had her own reason to visit Madame Pomfrey; good gracious, Greengrass, what on earth have you been doing to yourself?"

Astoria nodded sullenly to Malfoy. "Ferret bite."

The Eyebrow was threatening to disappear beyond McGonnagal's hairline.

"I see." While Astoria companionably slung an arm around the shaking Slytherin's shoulders and began to lead him down the hallway, McGonnagal swivelled imperceptibly to look directly at him. Ron was just a little disconcerted to see the faintest glimmer of a dangerous smile on her lips. "And as for you, Mister Weasley…"

-0-

"You'd think the old bat would've given me some sort of award," Ron grumbled resentfully as he daubed a sponge over a portrait of Wailing Willy Williams the Welsh Warlock and received a torrent of soapy abuse in return. Cleaning. Every time he did something wrong in this school it ended up with him cleaning something. He could open up some sort of agency when he left Hogwarts…

"I mean, he's practically a bloody Death Eater. Is one already, if you believe Harry – and you ignore this fascination he has with Malfoy, which is still bloody creepy…But still, very nearly a Death Eater! If I'd caught his rotten dad like that I'd be given the Order of Merlin! And it was some damn good spellwork! But oh, no no no no no, it's all 'wash the entire third floor portrait section without magic, Mister Weasley'…"

"Ron, you're dripping soap," Hermione reminded him patiently.

He grunted idly, poking Willy's painting one last time with his sponge before moving on. Bloody cleaning. Flipping MacGonnagal and her rubbish sense of humour. The least she could have done would be to laugh. Mad-Eye would've laughed. But no, it was back to cleaning. At this rate he'd miss dinner, miss commiserating with Harry over his god-awful Apparation test, miss going over Quidditch strategies, miss a good evening's chat with everyone –

- Well, apart from Hermione.

"You can go, you know," he muttered, dunking the sponge again.

She shrugged. "I don't mind. Besides, you look like you could do with the company."

"Well, I should bloody well think so. After all, I turned Malfoy into a ferret for you."

Hermione shook her head, pushing a hand back through her hair. "Ye-es. Well I still say you shouldn't have done it."

He gritted his teeth. Of course. Let's tell Ron off, he broke the rules, of course he must suffer…

"Why do you always do that! I was sticking up for you, and you just – "

"Why are you getting so huffy?"

"Why can't you just admit it was a nice gesture?"

"Because I didn't want you getting into trouble just for me!"

"Why – "

Oh.

Well.

Huh.

When you put it like that…

…It didn't sound so bad.

He could feel the first hints of a blush pooling up against his neck. "Oh. Well, I – I get that."

The girl dimpled. She did look pretty…well, pretty when she was embarrassed. Which, if he wasn't mistaken, she was. Almost as much as he was. "I mean, it was a rather nice gesture."

"Hell yeah."

"Quite dangerous though."

"S'pose so."

"Still, very nice."

Ron grinned again, turning back to a full length portrait of Dippy Dorothy and her twin Dangerous Dominic of Doncaster, which all of a sudden didn't seem nearly so intimidating. Not so intimidating at all, particularly as a small hand reached over and gently patted him on the shoulder before hastily withdrawing.

Nope, as a whole, it wasn't so bad at all.

-0-

"That is so sweet. Honestly, I mean, I know Weasley went off with that Lavender girl even though she's completely off her trolley, but those two are so obviously mean for each other; written in the stars and all that sort of thing. Do people's names and destinies actually get written in the stars? I don't know, I mean, Professor Firenze certainly thinks so, but then he's a centaur; I bet Sinistra would know. But anyway, those two are obviously meant to be together, I can't believe they've never noticed it, what with Weasley cursing you just to defend Hermione Granger's honour, which is so nice…"

When one woman stopped being a complete plague on his sanity, another stepped up to take the torch.

"Are you doing this to annoy me?" he growled.

Astoria graced him with a mischievous smile. "Of course I am. You really crossed a line calling Hermione Granger that."

Draco merely snorted. Sitting outside the Hospital Wing with only Astoria for company, being forced to watch Weasley and Granger flirt over cleaning supplies really wasn't the perfect end to his day. Inside her office Madame Pomfrey – who he suspected had heard about the 'Mudblood' incident - was rather unsympathetically brewing up a batch of Shock Solution for him, and had agreed to bring Astoria a draught to combat possible infection, seeing as 'you never know what you might have caught with that bite'.

Thankyou so very much.

"I'd been forced to listen to Pansy talk about Celestina Warbeck's latest ridiculous affair with a Healer or a Hopper or God knows what for three-quarters of an hour," he retorted darkly. "Weasley's lucky I didn't throw an Unforgiveable on his sorry hide."

"How very badass of you."

He rolled his eyes. Over by the portrait of Louis the Lecherous, Weasley had spotted a mark on his little girlfriend's face and was busy trying to wipe it off with the duster, stuttering and making excuses and blushing the entire time. He was close to vomiting.

"They're really very sweet, don't you think?" Astoria responded innocently. Still cradling her injured hand in her lap – wuss – she leant back against him, all the better to crane her neck and watch the sickening display coming from Weasley and Granger. Honestly – as if two people would actually pretend to be friends with such a love-hate relationship when it was perfectly obvious they wanted each other.

He shook his head. "Well I'm so happy my abject pain managed to get Weasley in good standing with his girlfriend…"

"They're not actually dating."

"I don't bloody care, Greengrass!"

A pair of passing first-years nearly wet themselves with terror as he exploded, increasing their pace down the hallway dramatically. As Astoria rolled her eyes, waving shyly to Golstein's sister as the girl passed, Draco felt himself start to twitch at the sight of the albino ferret meekly curled in the girl's protective arms.

"She'll never forgive me for stealing her beloved pet. That's your fault too," Astoria murmured, before casting a pointed Look at him. "And you don't have to shout. What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into me? Me? I was transformed into a ferret! I've been kicked, dropped and damn nearly sat on! I was forced to bite Goyle straight on the arse, was nearly dissected by that twit Lovegood, and I'm quite certain I was nearly indecently assaulted by another ferret! I have not had a good day! I've – why are you laughing?"

She wasn't just laughing. She was nearly crying with laughter.

Draco was loathe to whine 'it wasn't fair' again, but really, sometimes it had to be said.

"It. Is. Not. Funny," he snarled through gritted teeth.

"Whatever you say, 'Draccy'."

Bollocks.

He was never going to forgive Astoria. Or Pansy. Hell, maybe it would just be a good idea to cut all girls out of his life altogether…

…Ehh, maybe not.

"Don't call me that."

"I'm sorry; would you prefer 'Ferret Face'?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, how very mature."

"You're a pain. And you really do take a perverted pleasure in my pain, don't you?"

"I try."

"You're twisted."

"I'm not the one who was nearly sodomised by a ferret, Draccy."

He folded his arms, tightly. Sometimes life was incredibly unfair.

"I don't know why you're sulking so much. You're not the one who got bitten." Astoria held her finger out as evidence.

"Oh boo hoo."

"You tore my finger open."

He glanced down. True enough, there was now a deep gash dragging down the centre of her forefinger and curling down against her palm where his ferret teeth had ripped. Her hand was smudged with dried blood. "Impressive."

"I hate to think what the state of Goyle's rear is right now."

"…I'll thank you to never put that image in my head again."

Her smile was irritatingly sweet. "It's still bleeding, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes. Still, he was a gentleman despite comments from other parties. Shaking his head, and muttering something about her being a completely useless and hapless nit, he shook his sleeve over his hand and took a firm hold of her fingers, folding the cloth firmly over the rip in her skin.

"You have to keep pressure down against the wound. Don't you know anything?"

"Thinking about being a healer? Your bedside manner's pretty crap."

He made a pointed face in her direction. As Crabbe and Goyle thundered past like a pair of trolls, fists crackling between them , eyes trailing determinedly at the floor and Goyle rubbing his rear miserably (shuddershuddershudder), he shook his head grimly. "I think I'm going to need some sort of therapy."

"Poor you." As Draco's pale eyes flickered briefly over his retreating henchmen's backs, over the rip in Goyle's robes and a brief flicker of greying underpants, and gave another horrific shudder, Astoria took pity on him, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. "At least it's all over now."

He managed a faint smile. True. After being turned into a ferret, there wasn't anything worse that today could throw at him…

"Draco? What are you doing holding hands with her?"

Without even looking up he slumped down into his seat. Then again, maybe not.