A/N: This is a re-write of the original done by Ali7.

Kappa Got Your Tongue?
Re-Write of Original by Ali7.

"You tired, Potter?" came a voice from across the table Harry sat at in the library. The obvious answer to the question was a yes, but Harry promptly ignored the question and continued to scribble at his essay.

"Tired, Potter?" she repeated. Harry looked up at the girl across from him as she pulled out a chair and sat down. Pansy Parkinson stared back at him, her black eyes glittering softly in the torchlight of the library. Harry shook himself back into focus and once again turned to writing.

He glanced off sideways to discover, to his disappointment, that Ron and Hermione were several bookshelves away. He was alone with an enemy, a vicious predator.

"Well?" she questioned, strumming her fingers against the table, "Kappa got your tongue?"

"Hmm?" was the only word he granted her. Why, of all people, was she talking to him? She was one of Malfoy's closest minions, wasn't she?

"Tired?" she repeated, a third time.

"Yeah," he grunted, "a bit."

He now regretted telling Ron and Hermione that he needed to continue working, rather than head off with them to scour the shelves for a book on Animagi.

"Whatcha doing?" she said in an annoyingly cute way. Her tones made Harry get the goosebumps, as did the way she twirled her hair with her pointer finger.

"Essay for McGonagall." he said flatly. Harry looked up, and, to his horror, she had retrieved parchment, ink, and quill from her own bag.

"It's a doozie, isn't it?" she said, "Mind if I join you?"

Mentally, he answered the first immediately. It most certainly was. The second question, he wanted to beat himself for answering,

"Yes, of course you can." he said simply, his mouth working against his mind, "And it's really not that bad when you get started."

There was complete silence as they scribbled together, save for the occasional grunts from Crabbe and Goyle a few tables over. Harry sneaked the occasional chance to peak a glance to see if, just maybe, Ron and Hermione were returning.

Why, he asked himself again, was she talking to him? And not just talking to him... but being uncharacteristically friendly, of all things.

And why was he talking to her? Being kind to her? He told himself adamantly that it had nothing to do with the attractive way in which she bit her lip, twirled her hair, or smiled while she worked.

She was smiling.

That in and of itself should have sent up a million internal alarms.

None of them went off.

"Look Potter, I need a guy's perspective," she suddenly blurted out.

"A guy's perspective?" he asked cautiously, setting his quill down to pay full attention, "Why are you asking me..?" he shifted uncomfortably, "of all people, me?" he added in undertone, "Why not Malfoy?"

"Please," she begged, "give me some credit. Draco would be to busy trying to weasel his way into my pants to give a care for what I have to say."

"Oh," said Harry, he knew she wasn't exaggerating, "What's the problem, then?"

The next words that came out of her mouth were the last he expected,

"I like this guy and he has absolutely no idea." she said softly. She could feel her cheeks warming as a small blush hit her face, "But... I think he hates me and I really... I don't know what to do."

"Er..." Harry began as he absentmindedly combed his fingers through his hair, "Er... just tell him?"

She felt like crying, or screaming. She, Slytherin Pansy Parkinson, had lowered herself to hopeless clich├ęs, and he was entirely oblivious to the obvious. She sighed internally.

"I'm sorry, Parkin..." he began, "Pansy," he corrected, "I... really haven't the faintest clue about that sort of thing. Girls are probably better suited to give that kind of advice."

She smiled weakly, "Don't worry," she waved her had dismissively in a nonchalant sort of way, "It doesn't matter." He really had no idea. So typical of the male gender.

She gave up.

Sighing aloud, she stood and walked back into the rows between bookshelves,

"Pansy?" Her heart leapt when she heard him call her by her first name. If nothing else came of this, they would be, at least, reluctant friends.

She turned to face him, not bothering to look into his eyes, she'd cry or melt if she did,


At first he hesitated, but brought his courage up as only a Gryffindor could. Throwing all caution to the wind he shouted, "Wait up!". He shoved his incomplete essay into his book bag and sprinted after her.

She stared at him with a look of half bemusement and half confusion.

"I've got to go talk to a few Gryffindors about our Quidditch match tomorrow," he explained, swinging his bag over his shoulder, matching his pace to hers as they set off out of the library.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. Her heart sank. She should have known not to get her hopes up.

They walked till they reached the portrait into Gryffindor Tower.

"I'll see you later, then." she said softly, turning to leave.

Harry's curiosity got the better of him,

"Might I ask who you were talking about?"

She stared at him. He felt his cheeks burn as a blush invaded his normally rather pasty complexion.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, revelation hitting him like a stack of books, "Well..."

Setting his bag down, he stepped toward her slowly and wrapped his arms around her, then kissed her gently.

"Oh," was the only thing to escape her lips as they were released from his.

"Well?" he asked, his green eyes twinkling down into hers, "Kappa got your tongue?"

A/N: I loved this story, but it needed some new spice, several grammatical changes and the like. If you're familiar with the old one, hopefully you enjoy this one as well, if not better than the first. Thanks for Ali7 for the original piece.