Defying Gravity

Pansy settled into her seat, crossing her legs daintily and giving Blaise's arm a good shove in the process. His arm, which had been propping up his head, slipped off the desk, and he very nearly face planted into his books.

"Salazar, woman. What's your problem?"

"Your elbow was encroaching on my workspace."

Blaise shook his head. "Women," he muttered. Then he snorted, turning away again.

Pansy craned her neck to see over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Finnegan was just telling a joke."

"Vulgar?"

"Supremely."

"Ugh." She tapped her nails on the desk. "How do you stand them?"

"Who? The Gryffindors?" Blaise grinned at her, a flash of white teeth against dark skin. "They're all right. Did you hear the rumors?"

"That we're going to get some secret assignment this term? Bo-ring."

"I dunno, could be—"

"Ahem." McGonagall stood, rapping the surface of her desk sharply. The room fell silent as the eighth-years all turned to look expectantly at her. "I suppose you've all heard the rumors? Excellent. You will indeed spend the majority of this term on this project, and should you succeed it will gain you an extra point on your NEWTS."

Hermione straightened in her chair, eyes sparkling, and Pansy rolled her eyes. Typical.

"I want you all to pay very close attention," McGonagall said briskly. "Mister Weasley — close the door, if you will. Thank you. Now. Very few students attempt this transformation, traditionally. Even fewer successfully complete it. I hope at least one of you manages it." She clapped her hands. "Now, tell me. Who here knows the process by which one becomes an animagus?"

Pansy gasped slightly. Did she really expect them to become animagi?

An elbow dug into her side, and she turned to glare at Blaise. "What do you want to bet she's just tired of Draco and Potter bickering and wants a month of peace and quiet?"

Pansy snorted. "That is... a distinct possibility. Are you going to try?"

"For now." He shrugged. "A lot can happen in a month."

"You can't expect us to keep these bloody leaves in our mouths for a whole month!"

"It's extra-credit, Mister Finnegan. Think of it as a chance to prove your mettle."

Blaise grinned. "Definitely just a plot to shut us up." He picked up his leaf, studying it, then stared around at the silent classroom. The mutters had died as leaves were placed under tongues. "Well blow me — it's working."

"I'd rather not." Pansy plucked her leaf from the desktop and placed it into her mouth as if it were the finest delicacy.

"The leaf goes in your mouth, Mister Zabini."

Blaise rolled his eyes and stuck it under his tongue, making a face. "Tathts like—"

"Silence, Mister Zabini."

---

The students quickly discovered that holding a leaf in your mouth for any length of time at all is actually rather annoying. Most gave up within a few days — at the end of the week, there were only a handful left. Writing everything on slates and parchment was just too much trouble, and the distant promise of being able to transform into an animal wasn't enticing enough to motivate them.