The house-elves had outdone themselves once again. The decadent spread should have been enough to keep anyone's attention. Ron's eyes certainly hadn't wavered. Yet, Harry couldn't stop his gaze from sliding across to the Slytherin table. Parkinson and Malfoy were leaning in and snickering together, and Harry knew they were up to something, but he didn't know what it was, yet something told him it was nothing good. Suspicious, Harry vowed to keep a closer eye on the two of them.

"Harry!" Hermione poked him in the ribs. "Don't tell me you're still watching Malfoy."

He was about to deny it when her glare silenced him. He considered his possible responses. He didn't want another sixth year (even though he had been right) but Hermione was both smart and stubborn, and would likely pick up on the true reason he watched Malfoy. He didn't look forward to another talk about his behavior.

"He's up to something," he muttered around a mouthful of a sweet buttered roll.

"Is he?" Hermione's look was entirely too knowing