Five More Points from Slytherin

Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the corridor, scattering silver light across the floor as Harry and Hermione tiptoed out from behind the Fat Lady's portrait.

At Harry's suggestion, they had decided to make another trip to Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom that very night.

Hermione did not approve of Harry's impulsive behavior. She had only read up on Basilisks after dinner and gained a rough understanding of the creature. That scant knowledge was not enough to ensure they would get away unscathed if they ran into one.

Only after Harry repeatedly promised Hermione that they would run away immediately if they encountered danger did Hermione agree to the nighttime excursion.

As for why Harry knew there was a Basilisk in the bathroom, and why she had somehow known beforehand to tell Hermione to close her eyes, Hermione decided not to ask her about it.

Everyone had their own little secrets. Her parents had told her that she needed to respect them, especially those of her friends.

Their expedition was over before it began.

The two had barely stepped out through the Fat Lady's door when they ran into a colorful "wall."

To be precise, it was Professor Snape, still wearing the same dark blue pajamas with gold stars as Dumbledore.

"Wandering about at night, Miss Potter? Miss Granger?" Snape's voice was like an ice blade scraping across slate, especially grating in the silent corridor. He looked down at them, his pale face looking even more forbidding in the moonlight.

Harry's throat tightened. Her mind raced, but she could not come up with a reasonable excuse.

Beside her, Hermione had already lowered her eyes and automatically assumed the properly contrite posture of a student caught misbehaving by a teacher.

She glanced at the still-dazed Harry out of the corner of her eye and tugged her robe. Only then did Harry come to her senses and strike the same properly contrite pose.

Snape's gaze swept back and forth between them before settling on Hermione. "I assume this was your idea, Miss Granger?"

"No, Professor, it was me!" Harry was about to explain, but Snape raised a hand to cut her off.

When he turned to Harry, his brows were still tightly knitted, but he strained to pull his mouth into a twisted smile.

The expression looked as though he had a toothache and was struggling to remain composed. "Miss Potter, as a first-year, you should obey the school rules."

Then he put on a stern face again. "Five points from Gryffindor. Now, go back at once."

The two turned to leave, relieved to have gotten off so lightly, only for Snape to call them back. "Miss Granger," he said, a warning in his voice, "please don't lead Miss Potter astray."

Hermione: What?

Where did that accusation come from?

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. A little embarrassed, Harry quietly squeezed her hand in apology.

Only when the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind them did they both let out a long breath.

"Why does he treat you so differently?" Hermione whispered, a trace of disbelief in her voice. "I've never heard of Professor Snape treating anyone differently! Even Malfoy, his godson! He treats him just like everyone else!"

As she spoke, Hermione mimicked Snape's usual expression. "'Potions is something even a baboon could learn, yet this is the best you can do. Oh, who is this? Mr. Malfoy, your potion could rival a baboon's. Better than the others. Five points to Slytherin.'"

She deliberately lowered her voice and drew out the ends of her sarcastic remarks, making the imitation especially convincing.

Harry shook her head. She did not know how to explain it to Hermione either. To be honest, when she had been a boy, she had been Snape's main target. Now that she was a girl, and one who looked like her mother at that, Snape was probably reasonably pleasant to her thanks to her mother.

Honestly, since being reborn, aside from losing her little brother and gaining two little sisters, she did not seem to have lost much.

She had even benefited from her gender and looks, getting the green light all the way.

...There really was no benefit to looking like Dad.

Harry sighed.

In Charms class the next day, the two arrived a few minutes late because they had been studying information on Basilisks. Only two seats remained empty in the classroom.

One was beside Ron, and the other was beside Draco.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then turned to Hermione and said decisively, "Go sit with Ron."

She did not want Hermione to face Draco's possible humiliation alone.

To Hermione, as long as she could not sit beside Harry, it made no difference where she sat. She had no objection and walked over to sit beside Ron, without even looking at his dejected face.

When Draco saw Harry walking toward him, his gray-blue eyes lit up at once, though he pretended not to care.

She's coming over! She sat down beside me! Does she think she went too far before and want to make up with me and be friends? Hah! Miss Potter! It's too late! I'm not the same Draco Malfoy I used to be! I won't forgive your rude behavior so easily!

But... he was a gentleman, and a gentleman should look after a lady. When a lady was too embarrassed, a gentleman should take the initiative and give her a way to save face.

Draco's hand hung at his side, and he reached for his thigh and quietly pinched it under the desk.

Calm down, Malfoy. Stay elegant! That's right, Miss Potter has taken the initiative to be friendly. As a gentleman, you should accept this olive branch.

Then what should I say? "Good morning, Miss Potter"? No, that won't do. It's too ordinary.

Compliment her accessories? Oh, no, Miss Potter doesn't have any accessories, apart from those black-framed glasses. "Your glasses go well with your eyes today"? No, no, no, I can't! That sounds like something stupid Crabbe would say!

Draco raised his head and pretended to look toward the classroom door, but his eyes flicked toward Harry.

He saw Harry quietly arranging her textbooks, her red hair falling over her parchment.

A bold idea flashed through his mind.

Maybe I could pretend to brush against her hand by accident... no! Too rude! Father would throw me out of the house! How could the heir of the Malfoy family act like some clumsy, handsy boy? Only those crude, brainless Gryffindors would do something like that!

Or I could drop an ink bottle? Cause a little accident?

The moment the thought appeared, Draco rejected it, in less than a few seconds.

The reason was simple.

Childish! That's no better than the Weasley twins!

Just as he was struggling with himself, Professor Flitwick bounced into the classroom.

"Today we'll be learning the Levitation Charm!" His high-pitched voice was full of energy. With a wave of his wand, snow-white feathers floated down in front of every student.

Draco stared at the feather before him, and inspiration struck.

He deliberately cleared his throat and said, in a voice only Harry could hear, "I bet I can make my feather float before you can, Potter."

His tone carried the arrogance typical of the Malfoy family, but concealed a trace of barely perceptible anticipation.

Harry turned back, somewhat speechless, and found herself looking straight into Draco's challenging yet expectant gaze.

She knew that look all too well. Whenever she accomplished something, Draco would match her achievement, whether through money, his own efforts, or his connections.

Then he would look at her like that, as if to say, "Potter, don't think you're so great. Whatever you can do, I can do too."

Of course, it was also entertaining to watch Draco make a fool of himself every time.

Harry accepted Draco's challenge. She raised an eyebrow. "What's the wager?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat.

She responded!

Draco struggled to keep the corners of his mouth from rising, his gray eyes gleaming with triumph. "The loser has to do one thing the winner asks, as long as it's something the loser can do."

"Deal," Harry replied promptly, turning back to get her wand ready.

She did not see the victorious smile Draco hid behind his textbook, nor did she notice him quietly straightening his cuffs three times to make sure every fold was perfect.

While they had been talking, Professor Flitwick had finished handing out the feathers. He stood at the front of the room and demonstrated the proper movement. "Remember, your wrist should be as gentle as the flutter of a House-elf's wings... Wingardium Leviosa!"

Draco took a deep breath and secretly glanced at Harry's focused profile.

This time, he had to win! Not because of some stupid wager, but just so he could see those green eyes turn toward him again.