Draco thought of a line from one of Hermione’s Muggle books, about believing six impossible things before breakfast. All right, so technically it was noon, but Draco still hadn’t had breakfast yet... And so far, Potter hadn’t hexed him for being plastered to a flushed, moaning Hermione, Hermione had told Draco she loved him, Nymphadora had tried to befriend him, and Weasley had foregone an opportunity to communicate his dislike in favour of being civil. Draco only needed two more impossible occurrences, and he’d have his tally of six. He wondered idly if perhaps Trelawney might suddenly spout a prophecy about Draco being the future crusader for House Elves, or the like. Although now that Draco thought about it, being that he was with Hermione that future might not be so unlikely. Perish the bloody thought. He had his limits, and one of them was fighting for House Elf rights. He might sign a petition, but that was it.