Not your usual Veela mate

Time for Payback

"Albus, there is something that I believe you need to see," McGonagall said, walking up to the Headmaster where he sat working behind his desk.

"What is it, Minerva? I trust there are no troubles?"

"No, no troubles. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy sent me a letter earlier today in regard to their schedules," McGonagall explained, holding the letter out for the other to take.

Dear Deputy Headmistress,

My mate and I have talked things through and we realise that our schedule is a nightmare the way it stands now. Not to mention that we will be overloaded with far too many classes. Therefore, we made the decision to coordinate our choices and, this is the result. I trust you will find your work easier now and will accommodate our wishes.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

Classes we wish to take:

Ancient Runes,
Arithmancy,
Charms,
Herbology,
Potions,
Transfiguration,
Healing,
Forgotten Arts.

"Very commendable of them," Albus said with a soft smile. He was positive this was Harry's idea, that boy was always so considerate of others. He read the list once more and frowned. "This must be a mistake, they have both dropped Defence," he said, looking up at his deputy.

"That is why I decided to bring this to your attention." McGonagall nodded. "Albus, Harry needs Deence Against The Dark Arts if he is to survive this war, not to mention we can't let the boy lead a defence club if he isn't taking Defence. What example would that set for the students? Not to mention what the parents will say when they find out." She shuddered at the thought of all those Howlers she'd be swamped with.

"Put both boys down for Defence," Albus decided. "I have a meeting with Harry tomorrow night; I will speak with him about this then. I am sure he will be made to see reason, and if he finds the workload too heavy, he can always drop one of the other classes," he stated, dismissing the issue from his mind and returning to his letter. Fudge was demanding his advice again. The Headmaster almost wished the man still had his head in the sand, then he wouldn't be pestered with letters demanding advice on just about everything.

Day Two - Tuesday

Harry woke with a gasp and a shudder. He slowly sat up in bed, his heart beating wildly. Ever since about two weeks before his birthday his nights had been filled with weird dreams of a forest and a woman singing. He had no idea what she was singing since he didn't understand the language, but it was a beautiful song, albeit sad. It filled him with such longing, and he often had to fight an urge to just leave and rush headlong to find the singer.

So far, he had managed to stop himself though. He had no way of knowing where this mysterious singer was. Or knowing who she was, for that matter. What if this was just another trick from Voldemort? But each time he heard that song, the pull became stronger. How much longer was he going to be able to resist the lure?

Sighing softly, Harry threw back the covers. There would be no more sleep tonight, he might as well get up and do something useful. At least it hadn't been another torture filled nightmare of dear old Voldie killing innocent people. It was a wonder he hadn't developed insomnia by now!

Suddenly he smirked. Tonight was the perfect opportunity for some payback. He had been nice for far too long. It was time to make some people realise what it meant to piss off the Boy Who Lived. It was time to tap into the mischievous streak he had inherited from his father. Oh yeah, they would never know what hit them.