I t had been a long, drawn out week. Finally the weekend had come and Harry Potter found himself looking into the mirror. Applying the magical ointment to his newly acquired goose egg, he pondered the most recent set of embarrasing events.

It had been a few hours ago already. Tonight had been the night of the Autumnal ball. It happened like this:

"Mmm Granger, I see you got Hagrid to take care of your pet beaver"

"What beaver? I don't have a pet beaver, I have a cat..." said Hermione, not exactly catching the insult.

"What about the one that usually lives on your head?" Hermione's face turned the color of ripe tomatos and she began running up the stone stairs. Harry looked angrily at Malfoy, muttered a quick, "Sod off, ferret," and chased up the stairs after her. He knew she would be heading to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. She always did when something was wrong. There or the library, but this wasn't the occasion for that.

Draco elbowed Crabbe and with that his whole group of cronies began laughing hysterrically. About a minute had gone by and Draco had stopped laughing long ago. He looked from person to person. "Uhm, you can stop that now, it wasn't that funny." Immediately they stopped laughing and continued on into the Great Hall.

Concentrating so hard on getting to Hermione, Harry completely lost control of his feet. He tripped over the top step and split his head on the stone handrail. Fortunately, he was far enough away from the Great Hall that no one saw him, except for a few portraits:

"They're called feet boy, take some lessons." called out the portrait of a disgruntled looking man with no eyebrows.

"I see, so that is the "great seeker" that everyone has been talking about? Standards have dropped so low in this day and age. In my day.." said another.

After performing a mental evaluation on himself, Harry noted that he was fine besides the splitting headache and the blood running into his eyes. He finally made it to the door the the bathroom and stopped. It always gave him this incredibly akward feeling to just waltz into a bathroom he knew was for girls. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Go away," said a quivering voice from beyond the door.

That was her alright. Harry sighed and began to push the door open, "It's me," he announced.

"No really... oh my God Harry, what happened? Sit down. We need to wash that cut out. Just sit down, I can have it fixed in a flash..."

"No, this isn't the time. How can you let Malfoy get to you?"

"He's right, I know it." She was beginning to cry again.

"Oh come on Hermione, you can't believe everything he says. I mean a beaver on your head? If that is the best he can do, I think thats pretty lame... In fact I would say it looked more like a-" Seeing the horrified look on her face, Harry took that as his cue to change the subject. "You really do look quite cracking tonight though Hermione, really." He really did think she looked gorgeous tonight. The emerald green dress robes, the pearls...in fact she was stunning.

"That's quite alright Harry, you don't need to lie. I'm perfectly used to it..."

"No Hermione, it's not perfectly alright. And no, I'm not lying this time. Honestly Hermione, you are begining to sound like a certain asian friend I have from back at the Dursley's." Hermione flashed a questioning look at Harry and for a moment they both sat there in contented silence. It wasn't until Harry brought his hand up to wipe the blood from his eyes that the subject of his head wound came up again. Hermione scooted forward until she was only a few inches away from his face. Harry's face took on a quizzical look. 'Could she? Oh, of course not, what was I thinking...' Harry thought to himself.

Hermione began to examine his head, much more closely. Noting the blood beginning to dry in the already untidy black hair, she sighed internally. 'I wish my hair looked like his...instead I'm stuck with a beaver on my head.'

"Harry, we really need to get you to Madame Pomfrey, this is much deeper than I even thought. How did you manage that?"

"It was nothing really.." Harry mumbled, "Let's head down now, I'm beginning to not feel so great."

They walked down the flights of stairs together, Hermione holding Harry up. Hermione told herself she was doing it if he decided to feint. She knew that was not the case at all. On the other hand, Harry enjoyed his trip down to the hospital ward. It wasn't that often that Ron wasn't around. He didn't mean that he didn't like having him around, but it was just...nice for a change.

Madame Pompfrey made a point of insisting she know the story of how he acquired this huge lump on his forehead. Harry finally budged, and told her the story while Hermione laughed to herself silently. Harry examined the laces of his shoes the entire time, while his face flushed tremendously. After he finished telling the tale, Madame Pomfrey gave him a tube of cream, assuring him that his second forehead would be gone by morning.

They made their way back up stairs slowly, but surely. When they entered the common room, they were reminded that everyone was still down at the Great Hall, enjoying the ball. While Hermione collapsed onto her usual cozy armchair by the fire, Harry set off upstairs to total the damage done to his head.

Afterwards, Harry cautiously went down the stairs, afraid of another tumble. He sat down in the chair beside Hermione and sighed.

"So, Harry who is this Asian girl from the Dursley's?" She said, a large grin forming over her face.