A/N: Written in 2008 for the Ron/Draco Exchange Fest. My recipient wanted, in no particular order: Just Draco/Ron, HUMOR (which can even be on the verge of crack, so long as everyone's in character), I like in-Hogwarts best, boys being [stupid] boys is love, Ooh, and banter, stuck or lost in some place together. And socks.

I took the 'on the verge of crack' bit and hugged it to my bosom like a long lost child.

The Heart Remains a Child

"Aaaah!"

With a display of amazing agility and rather impressive flexibility, Ron Weasley managed to grab hold of the branch closest to him, and thus narrowly avoided landing on his arse twenty feet below.

When his heartbeat had returned to normal, and his breathing evened out, he was finally able to take in the rest of his surroundings (not that there was much to take in).

Apparently, he was up a tree.

How he came to be there, where exactly there was and, perhaps most pressingly of all, who the hell was he again?

These were all questions clamouring for answers; answers that sadly completely eluded him at this moment in time.

As did the identity of the sleeping blond who was lying on the branch with him, currently hugging Ron's left leg and drooling on his knee.

48 Hours Earlier

"Ron Weasley should have been drowned at birth."

Draco Malfoy glared across the room at the redheaded Gryffindor. "After all," he sneered. "Isn't it traditional to slaughter the runt of any litter?"

Pansy looked to where the strapping sixteen year old in question was towering over everyone else on his table and rolled her eyes. Delusional.

Draco failed to notice, too wrapped up in his current tirade. "When the Dark Lord returns and takes his rightful place, Weasley will rue the day he took up with Mudbloods and Half-breeds." He paused, raking Weasley hungrily from head to toe. "Perhaps then, I'll ask My Lord for a special favour; perhaps I'll ask him to gift me The Weasel." His breath hitched. "I look forward to the day I have him chained to a wall and at my mercy."

Pansy sighed. Yes, I just bet you do, Draco.

"Look at him." Draco spat, lip curling in contempt. "He makes me sick; simpering around Potter like a lovesick puppy. He's a Pureblood, by Voldemort; he should be mixing with his own kind, with other Purebloods."

He slammed his knife down onto the table. "Merlin, damn him! If he's going to fawn over anyone, then it should be me." Taking a deep breath, he looked back over at the other boy. "Just you wait, Weasley," he licked his lips, "I'll have you on your knees yet."

Crabbe choked on his drink, while Goyle made a hasty, strategic retreat, red-faced from fighting some inner turmoil.

Pansy just shook her head.

"Malfoy is definitely up to something."

Ron narrowed his eyes and scowled in the direction of the Slytherin.

Harry began pummelling his head against the table. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. She had a feeling that fifth year at Hogwarts was going to be a difficult one.

Hermione huddled further into her robes and stamped her feet in a vain attempt to force some feeling back into her numb toes. It was a bitterly cold November day and anyone with any sense was inside fighting for a seat around the huge fires that had been lit earlier in all the common-rooms. Normally, Hermione would be right there amongst them, using her infamously bony elbows to ensure a comfy seat near the front, but today she'd felt an overwhelming need to be outside and away from everyone.

To say that the last few weeks had been challenging was an understatement of epic proportions.

Between Harry's mood swings (and really, she was beginning to suspect the boy of harbouring a uterus), Ron's increasing paranoia concerning a certain Slytherin, and the pink clad horror that was Professor Umbridge, she was beginning to think a full-scale attack by Voldemort would be a picnic in comparison (and a welcome distraction at that).

She was currently leaning against the side of one of the equipment sheds not far from the Quidditch pitch. Few people came down here on non-match days and the sheds themselves were fortuitously hidden from the school by a small clump of birch trees. Had Hagrid been around, then she may well have worried that he might have come across her during one of his daily rambles over the school grounds, but fortunately Grubbly-Plank had inherited only his teaching post, not his Game-keeping duties, so there was little danger of detection (particularly on a day when the dark clouds above threatened rain to accompany the brisk wind that was already whistling around the side of the hut).

She just needed a moment or two alone.

"I don't know exactly what dance you're attempting, Granger, but of it's the Rumba then you're pathetically out of step. If, on the other hand, it's the Troll Quick-Step, well...you're a natural."

Clearly, it was not to be.

Sighing heavily, Hermione turned around to face Pansy Parkinson. She pointedly did not stop stamping her feet.

"Oh do buzz off Parkinson, there's a good Slytherin. After all, it looks like rain," she glanced heavenwards, "and Merlin knows none of us wants to see what adverse weather conditions might do to that triumph of spells over nature that you call a hairstyle."

She'd never admit it - not even under Cruciatus - but secretly Hermione had always been jealous of the other girl's sleek, black hair.

Pansy laughed, her eyes immediately going to Hermione's hair. "Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I choose not to take hair care advice from you now won't you, Granger?"

"Bugger off."

"My, aren't you tetchy today." Pansy moved to stand next to the Gryffindor. "So, what brings you out here on such a lovely day?"

Hermione didn't sigh this time; she knew Parkinson well enough by now that her not leaving came as absolutely no surprise. Truthfully, this wasn't the first time the two girls had met up over the last couple of years. While they always maintained an outwardly hostile front, the events of recent years and the frustrating behaviour of certain boys in both their lives, had resulted in a surprising - and never openly acknowledged - camaraderie between the two. While neither girl actively sought the other out, if they did happen to come across the other, such as now, then they would invariably seize the opportunity to vent a spleen or two. Thus, Hermione was able to recognise Pansy's opening for the invitation that it was.

"Harry, Ron and Umbridge. Though not necessarily in that order. You?"

"Draco, Weasley and Umbridge." Pansy paused and considered the grey clouds overhead before continuing. "And definitely in that order."

Hermione frowned; why would Ron be bothering Parkinson? But one thought over-rode all others.

"Umbridge? But isn't she one of yours?"

"Sod off, Granger!" Pansy looked appalled. "Don't give her to us. Have you seen those hideous outfits? And what about those creepy plates in her office?" She shuddered. "No, trust me, that woman is an affront to all."

Hermione noticed that the other girl was rubbing at the back of her left hand as she spoke. Looking closer, she could just make out familiar red welts beneath the fingers that were stroking gently over abused skin. Unconsciously, she reached for her own hand to touch the marks that were still smarting from her detention the previous evening.

She raised her eyes to Pansy and frowned in confusion. "But…"

"Yes, I know," Pansy interrupted. "Bit of a surprise, isn't it, Hermione?" She shrugged at the other girl. "Umbridge might favour us Slytherins, but the sadistic bitch is still more than happy to punish us should the opportunity arise." Lifting her left hand she glanced at the scars. "Apparently, Dolores doesn't approve of lip gloss."

She smiled at Hermione and nodded at the other girl's hands. "What about you? What terrible transgression earned you your marks?"

Hermione looked down at where her right hand clasped her left, and suddenly felt ashamed. While it was certainly true that Harry had been the first to experience Umbridge's twisted version of detention, it had been many weeks since the rest of the school had also become privy to her idea of what constituted suitable punishment for those foolish enough to question her rules. Hermione had just assumed that the Sytherins were immune; Umbridge had made as little attempt to hide her favouritism of that House as she had to hide her hatred of Gryffindor. To now discover that the woman's cruelty transcended even House loyalties came as a bit of a shock.

"Granger."

Pansy's voice shook Hermione from her thoughts. Reminded of the other girl's earlier question she cast a quick dismissive glance at her own hand. "Oh this, this is nothing."

She looked up at Pansy. "I'm sorry. I just assumed that your lot weren't being punished. That was wrong of me, I can see that now." She frowned. "Just how widespread is it, Pansy?"

Pansy shrugged again. "Don't beat yourself up, Hermione. I'm sure we still get away with a lot more than you Gryffindors." She paused thoughtfully. "But it's pretty much school-wide now. Luckily, Draco's Potion skills have helped some of the younger Slytherins, sparing them some pain, if not the scarring."

Hermione couldn't hide her surprise. "Malfoy actually deigns to help them?"

Pansy shook her head. "Yeah, shocking I know, but bizarrely even evil Slytherins like us choose not to stand by and watch while little kids are being tortured."

Hermione looked suitably chagrined.

Pansy laughed. "Really, Granger don't worry about it. Draco would be touched to know that all his years of trying to act mean have actually made an impression. In fact, he'd probably be appalled to know I was blowing his cover like this."

"We saw him over the holidays last summer, you know?" Hermione thought a slight shift in subject might be in order.

She was surprised when the other girl snorted in response. "Oh I know! Trust me, I know."

Hermione frowned. "Did Malfoy tell you then? Well, of course, he would have mentioned the Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup, but I wouldn't have thought our presence there would have rated much of a mention. Harry's perhaps, but not mine or Ron's"

"Oh, it rated a mention alright." Pansy was grinning now. "Several times and at length. First by post and then verbally at least once a day when we came back."

Hermione was astonished. "Really? I didn't realise we'd made that much of an impression."

"Oh, I don't know," Pansy paused, as if in thought. "I'm beginning to think 'in a dark wood, during a Death Eater attack' might be a particular kink of Draco's."

"Huh?"

"Erm, never mind." Pansy shook her head and let out a quick laugh. "Sorry, private joke," she added at Hermione's raised eyebrows. "Well," she went on. "While it's been lovely talking to you, Granger, I really must get back, lives to ruin, people to torment and all that. Catch you later."

And with a last haughty toss of her head she walked off towards the school, leaving a thoughtful Hermione behind.

"Ginny," Hermione paused, taking a moment to consider the best way to word what she was about to say to her friend. "This is going to sound, well, insane, but I'm beginning to think that Malfoy might not exactly hate Ron after all."

There. That wasn't too bad, surely? Ease her in, that was the way to do this. No need to shock the girl.

Ginny looked up and grinned. "Oh, bless you, Hermione. So, you finally got there, huh?"

Hermione looked perplexed.

Ginny shook her head and smiled. "I'm assuming you're referring to the fact that the Slytherin git fancies the arse off my brother? Or were you referring to something else?"

Hermione's jaw didn't quite hit the floor, but it was a close thing.

"Harry…"

Hermione got no further as Harry let out a low growl and started to bang his head against the nearest wall. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Hermione made a mental note to speak to him about it later, he really needed to show more restraint before he did some irreversible damage.

She turned helpless eyes to Seamus.

"What can I say 'Mione?" The Irish boy shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head at Harry. "He's been having a hard time coming to terms with the whole Malfoy and Ron wanting to shag thing. I'm not entirely sure if it's the boy on boy thing, a Slytherin on Gryffindor thing or just the idea of his best friend with his biggest enemy thing."

He grinned, rubbing his hands together and looking around at the other occupants of the room. "But I'd be happy to take any bets."

Hermione looked over to where Harry was continuing to bash his head against the wall and seriously considered joining him.

Pansy watched with some amusement as Hermione stood up and threw her arms up in frustration. "So, tell me, am I the only person here who wasn't aware of Malfoy and Ron's feelings for each other?"

Pansy patted her on the arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Granger. If it makes you feel any better, Draco hasn't figured it out yet either, and as far as I know the Giant Squid is still in the dark too." She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lip. "As for your boy…?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, well, there's the rub."

At Pansy's raised eyebrows she shrugged. "Honestly, Pansy? I've no idea. And from what I've been able to find out – and trust me, I've questioned everyone I could – no one else seems to be sure either."

She started to pace the room. "And well, I'm not entirely sure why I'm even discussing this with you."

Pansy took a moment to reply. "Well, Hermione I'm going to assume it's you seizing the opportunity to unite two Houses long at war, or some other romantic bullshit that will give you an excuse to interfere."

Hermione stopped her pacing. "And you would be okay with that?" She sounded surprised.

Pansy laughed. "Oh, trust me, Hermione, I've done my own share of ranting over this. Believe me, when I realised that Draco was hot for Weasley, my first impulse wasn't exactly to rush out to buy them an engagement present."

Pansy didn't think the founding president of S.P.E.W would care to hear exactly how many house-elves had fallen foul of her temper back then, so she chose not to elaborate. In the event, it had been her mother finally threatening to stop her allowance if she had to replace the broken furniture in her room one more time that had brought her back to her senses and a reluctant acceptance of the situation. She'd been very fond of Draco but not at the cost of new shoes and handbags on a regular basis. Boys can be replaced - she glanced down at her new red pumps - some things couldn't.

She looked back up and grinned over at Hermione. "But comes a time when you have to accept the inevitable. And once I stopped stressing over it, the whole Draco/Weasley circus proved pretty entertaining."

She paused, remembering Draco's pink fit last year when he'd realized that Weasley was the thing that Potter would miss the most. Now that had been entertaining.

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

Pansy frowned at the other girl's words. "Do? Well, personally I'm going to take a long hot bubble bath and forget this whole conversation. And frankly, I don't give a flying Fortsecue sundae what you're going to do." She stood up and headed for the door.

"But, we can't just leave things like this." Hermione took a step towards her.

Pansy frowned again. "Oh, why ever not?"

She really didn't understand what Hermione's problem was. So, Draco had a crush on Weasley. So what? He'd felt that way for so long now that just about everyone at Hogwarts, save for the two idiots themselves, knew about it. Merlin, even Granger knew now and her level of obliviousness when it came to Weasley was legendary.

"You're not seriously suggesting that we leave it in Draco's – or Merlin help us – Ron's hands?" Hermione sounded incredulous.

Pansy shrugged. Really what did the silly witch expect her to do? It's not as if she'd lose any sleep if Draco never managed to bag Weasley and currently she was rather enjoying the free show.

Hermione walked toward her shaking her head. "No. Pansy, don't you understand? It's Malfoy and Ron. And now their hormones are involved."

She gripped hold of the other girl's arms. "Think about it, Pansy - it…it could mean the end of the world as we know it."

Pansy had a sudden and violent flashback -

They were six years old and a pouting Draco had just been told that he couldn't have the puppy that he wanted.

Pansy remembered flames. Lots and lots of flames. And the smell of charred wood.

Realisation hit Pansy all at once. Voldemort. Granger was right. She'd never really thought about it until now, but Merlin knew, she was all too aware of what a thwarted Draco was capable of - a sexually frustrated Draco, quite possibly in love…well, the destructive potential was terrifying. Add Weasley's bumbling incompetence…

"Merlin help us, Hermione. What can we do?"

Thus began Operation: Get The Two Silly Gits Together (or as Granger insisted on calling it Operation: Romeo And Juliet But You Know With A Happier Ending).

Pansy had no idea who 'Romeo' or indeed 'Juliet' was, but she had a fairly good idea who would be wearing the dress given the slightest chance.

~o~

"So, Pansy," Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself that losing her temper with the other witch wasn't likely to help the situation. "Weasley Is Our King. Would you care to remind me, exactly where in our plan did 'encourage Malfoy to mercilessly mock Ron' feature again?"

Pansy shrugged. "For the record, Hermione, I didn't encourage him." She took out her wand and pointed it at her right hand, nodding her approval at the colour that spread slowly across each nail. "But actually I think it's quite sweet."

"Sweet!" Hermione leapt to her feet in her agitation. "You think ridiculing Ron's Quidditch skills in front of the entire school is sweet?"

"I forget that you really don't know Draco." Pansy shook her head, then flicked her wand at her left hand with a flourish; she paused to admire the colour for a moment before continuing.

"What you have to understand, Hermione, is that for Draco taking the actual time and energy to compose a song to Weasley, regardless of the actual content, is pretty much akin to him declaring undying affection and opening a vein in the process."

Hermione frowned at her. "And what you have to understand, Pansy, is chanting "Weasley lives in a bin" does not constitute a love-song!"

"Ah, not to you or me perhaps, but to Draco..." At the other girls deepening scowl she sighed. It looked like she was going to have to explain it. In small words. Possibly with pictures.

"Socks!"

Harry looked up. He glanced over at Seamus, who just shrugged.

"Yes, Ron." He spoke slowly and carefully, as he was wont to do these days around his erratic best friend. "They are socks." He nodded encouragingly at the ratty pair in Ron's hands.

Ron looked over at Harry and frowned. "You feeling alright, mate?" He cocked his head towards Harry while mugging furiously at Seamus.

Harry just about reigned in the urge to throttle the annoying git.

"Oi! Don't look at me like I'm the deranged one, you bloody tosser!" He threw his pillow at the red head. "You're the one with the sudden case of footwear Tourettes!"

Ron caught the pillow before it hit him and shook his head at his frustrated friend. "Harry, don't you get it? My socks have been going missing for weeks now and I've finally figured it out."

Harry and Seamus exchanged puzzled looks. Ron had just realised his socks were going missing? And this concerned them how exactly?

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

Seamus grinned at Harry. "Of course it is, isn't it, Harry?"

"Malfoy is stealing my socks."

Harry eyed the bedside table longingly…but he'd promised Hermione. He closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath and ignoring Seamus' manic grin, asked as calmly as he could. "And why would he be doing that, Ron?"

He tried to ignore the rather disturbing image of the many, many ways in which a hopelessly infatuated Malfoy might well be enjoying Ron's socks, and concentrated instead on what an oblivious Ron might consider an appropriate motive for the theft of his socks (he also envisioned a severe headache in his very near future).

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "I haven't worked that out yet." Then, looking up at Harry, as if suddenly inspired. "Harry, when you fought Voldemort in that graveyard last year, did he ever mention anything about needing extra socks?"

Seamus fell off the bed laughing.

Harry reached for the bedside table; surely Hermione would understand.

24 Hours Earlier

Surprisingly, it had been Ginny's idea.

Shortly after a new verse of Weasley Is Our King (containing the words "fat", "stupid" and "mother," amongst others) had been heard echoing around the corridors outside the Slytherin common-room, Hermione called an emergency meeting of The Get The Idiots Together Committee (or GIT for short).

There followed a couple of hours of exasperated discussion during which numerous desperate plans were put forward, only to be rejected one after the other, until everyone was feeling fed up and defeated.

Then, just as Hermione was thinking about calling the meeting to a disastrous close, Neville, ever the romantic, declared with a loud sigh, "If only the two prats had fallen in love before they knew who the other was."

Ginny, to his surprise and delight, immediately jumped up and hugged his neck, declaring. "Neville, you're a genius!"

At the perplexed looks from the rest of her friends, she continued. "Neville's right, don't you see? We know they want to be together but there's just too much bad history between them. Not to mention everyone else's expectations."

Hermione sat up straighter. "You mean what they think their family and friends would think if they got together?"

"Exactly." Ginny nodded. "Malfoy must know that his father would have a stroke if he knew he'd taken up with a Weasley."

"Not to mention a boy." Harry mumbled.

Pansy's head whipped around so quickly it made Harry jump. She glared at the dark-haired boy. "No, actually Potter." She sneered. "We in the Wizarding World aren't as backward as you Muggles. Homophobia," she practically spat the word, "has never been an issue with us."

Harry ducked his head, a deep blush spreading rapidly across his face.

Hermione shook her head at him sadly. Perhaps she should have been more offended at Pansy's contemptuous summing up of Muggle prejudice but, unfortunately, she had witnessed the truth of the other witch's words all too often herself. And besides, she was feeling just as cross with Harry and fully believed he deserved the harsh words. She had been increasingly disappointed with Harry's lacklustre response to their campaign.

Ginny continued the discussion, seemingly ignoring the interruption. "And Ron probably thinks we'll react badly if he gets together with Malfoy." She then turned to frown at Harry's bowed head. "Can't think why he'd feel that way," she snapped.

"Well, that may all be true." Neville responded, cutting through the tension in the room. "But what can we do about it? It's not like we can transport them back in time - time-turners just don't go back that far."

"No." Ginny was grinning again now. "But we could wipe out all their memory of what has happened between them? Let them start from a clean slate as it were?"

Harry's head shot up at that. "Oh my God!" He rarely reverted to the expletives he'd heard growing up in the Dursley household, but sometimes they just seemed right. "Please tell me you are not suggesting we Obliviate your brother and Malfoy?"

At Ginny's seeming shrug of acquiescence, he stood up and threw his hands in the air. "Have you lost your mind?" He turned to the others, waving his arms around in his agitation. "Have you all forgotten what happened to Lockhart?" He turned back to face Ginny. "I know you only want to help Ron, Ginny, but you can't risk putting him in St Mungo's in the process."

Ginny shook her head and rolled her eyes (a reaction not lost on Harry; he'd been getting rather a lot of that from the females in his life lately). "Don't be stupid, Harry"

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Hermione.

"Harry, there are less drastic ways to adjust someone's memory than what you did to poor Gilderoy."

Harry gaped for a moment at the sheer injustice of her words, before responding. "Hermione, how many times do we have to tell you? That whole fiasco was caused by Ron's faulty wand and the cowardly git's own Obliviate charm rebounding on him. Poor bleeding Gilderoy, my arse."

Before Hermione could rush to Lockhart's defence, Seamus cut in. "So, what you're saying is, you know of a way to alter their memories so that they won't know who the other is or remember anything that has ever happened between them?"

"That's exactly what we're saying." Hermione turned to smile at Ginny. "Well done, Ginny."

Ginny grinned, basking in the other girl's praise: it wasn't often anyone came up with the answer before Hermione.

Pansy looked thoughtful. "I suppose it might work..."

"Of course, it will work!" Hermione was adamant. "Look, we're all agreed that the only thing that's keeping the silly buggers from acting on their mutual attraction is their long-standing prejudice towards each other - remove that and there'll be nothing to stop them from..." She paused and blushed then, "well, you know..."

The girls giggled, Seamus groaned and Harry turned a fetching shade of green.

An hour later and the details of The Plan had been finalised.

Hermione explained that there actually existed a Potion that would erase their entire memory but only on a temporary basis. It was a dreadfully complicated Potion and great care had to be taken lest too much was given; they only wanted the boys not to know each other for a few hours after all, not a lifetime.

Harry had panicked a bit when this was revealed. He was remembering Hermione's mishap in second year, when she'd spouted ears and whiskers after taking Polyjuice that contained a cat hair, and he couldn't stop himself from blurting out his concern. Luckily, Hermione was able to stop him before he revealed too much with a well aimed kick to the shin, followed by a very pointed look in Pansy's direction.

Although Pansy was obviously unimpressed by the lack of subtlety, muttering a clearly audible "Oh spare me"; it at least had the desired effect of reigning in any further indiscretion from Harry, and Hermione was able to continue her explanation without interruption.

It soon became clear as she listed the required ingredients that a raid on Snape's supplies would be necessary; even if they pooled their resources - and Pansy quickly offered to 'borrow' most of the stuff from Malfoy's private supply (in fact she was positively gleeful in her offer) - they would still be short of at least two of the essential ingredients.

To everyone's surprise, Harry eagerly offered to distract the formidable Potion's Master whilst the others stole what was needed. Hermione suspected that the dark-haired boy was feeling guilty about his earlier outburst, and that he was hoping this offer might go some way towards making up for his less than enthusiastic response to The Plan thus far. Still, she was worried about how he was taking the whole Ron/Malfoy situation and promised herself that she would sit down with him when all this was over and try to talk through his obvious concerns.

Once they had agreed on the details regarding the stealing of the ingredients, the next step was to decide how, and when, to administer the Potion itself.

After much discussion, lots of raised voices and a fair amount of arm-waving, it was decided that Hermione would slip the draft into Ron's pumpkin juice at lunch; Pansy performing the same duty for Draco. There was a delayed reaction to the Potion of about an hour, that should allow them enough time to get the boys outside before it took effect. Ron had already told Harry that he intended to get in some solitary Quidditch practice straight after lunch, so clearly getting the Gryffindor outside wasn't going to be a problem.

Malfoy on the other hand...

They all turned expectantly to Pansy at this point, who threw up her arms in exasperation and yelled, "Merlin, do I have to do everything? At this rate I'll have to shag Weasley too."

There followed a rather uncomfortable silence (well, silent apart from Seamus and Ginny's sniggering that is).

In the end, Pansy promised to find a way to get Malfoy down to the Quidditch pitch after she received confirmation from Hermione that Ron was already down there.

They were all congratulating themselves on a job well done, when Neville suddenly asked, "But what are we going to do with them once they've taken the Potion?"

And a new round of shouting and arm-waving broke out.

Hermione confirmed that they would probably be unconscious for anywhere between one and three hours after the Potion had finally taken effect. There would then undoubtedly follow a fair amount of confusion. It was imperative that the boys be kept in isolation during this period or all their efforts would be for nought - there was no point in them going to all this trouble to erase their memories, if the first person they came across after taking the draft, simply pointed at them and said "You're Draco Malfoy and you're Ron Weasley. Oh, and yeah, you hate each other."

At some point someone said, "Up a tree." Afterwards, of course, everyone would strenuously deny saying it (Hermione secretly suspected Seamus).

Still, it would certainly guarantee their isolation and would also add the elements of 'peril' and 'inclement conditions.' The girls had all nodded their approval at that, envisioning lots of opportunities for 'hurt/comfort' and 'huddling together for warmth'. The boys, of course, claimed total ignorance of whatever it was they were going on about (although there was a definite glint of something in Neville's eye).

For once, getting into Snape's supplies proved surprisingly easy.

Harry waylaid the professor as he walked from Umbridge's office. He didn't appear to be in the best of moods - though it was hard to tell with Snape as no one had ever seen him in a good mood. Hermione thought it terribly brave of Harry to approach him, but Harry seemed almost happy about it. Perhaps he was over-compensating for his own grumpy behaviour earlier, she mused.

She stayed long enough to hear the greasy-haired wizard snarl, "What do you want, Potter?", and then hurtled her way back to his office where she met up with Ginny. They soon gathered the ingredients they needed and hurried back to the Gryffindor common-room.

Harry joined them quite some time later looking flushed and slightly dishevelled. Hermione immediately rushed over to him. "Oh Harry, you poor thing." She squeezed his arm. "Was he terribly hard on you?"

Harry's eyes went almost comically wide at that and he stammered. "No-no-it was fine. Really." Before collapsing in the nearest chair with a whimper.

Ron appeared then, looking almost as grumpy as Snape. "Oh, there you all are," he snapped at them. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were all in on Malfoy's plan to get me." He trudged disconsolately towards the exit. "Right, well I'm off to lunch. Doubtless, Malfoy will already be there, plotting my grisly demise, but don't feel obliged to tag along and make sure I'm okay or anything. Gits." And he ducked through the portrait hole.

"I know he's my brother and I love him dearly." Ginny turned sincere eyes to Hermione and Harry. "No, really I do." She was nodding now. "But sometimes, just sometimes..." She growled.

Hermione walked over and patted her on the back. "I know, trust me, I know." Then, she grinned. "But just think, if all goes well, this time tomorrow he could be Malfoy's problem."

The smile that spread over Ginny's face was like a little ray of sunshine. If sunshine was evil.

Slipping the Potion into the boys' drinks proved simple enough - both were far too preoccupied in glaring across the room at the other, to notice anything untoward. And, as the draft itself was both odourless and colourless, they both drank it down without suspecting anything was amiss.

As expected, immediately after he finished eating, Ron told Harry and Hermione that he was going to change for his practise and headed out the Hall. Harry waited a moment for the other boy to get out of sight and then got to his feet.

"I'd better follow him". He told Hermione. "We don't want the idiot getting side-tracked or deciding to take a nap instead."

Although this hadn't been part of the original plan it did make sense, so Hermione nodded her approval. "Good idea, Harry. We'll meet you at the pitch."

Harry looked awkward for a moment before blurting out. "Actually, I was going to go to the library this afternoon." At Hermione's frown he stammered out. "I've-I've-got lots of homework to do-and-and-if I don't finish it..."

As her scowl deepened he lost his nerve and ran for the door.

Hermione bit her lip. That was it. As soon as she could, she was going to sit the little twerp down and have a long talk concerning tolerance.

Ten minutes later, she received word via a first year that Ron was at the pitch. She nodded over at Pansy who'd only been awaiting this signal to follow Draco back to the Slytherin common-room.

Hermione watched her leave and sighed. It was up to the Slytherin girl now.

"So, Draco darling, no plans for this afternoon?"

"Bugger off, Pansy."

The bastard hadn't even deigned to look at her. Pansy took a deep breath and forcibly reminded herself that she'd promised Granger that she'd help - for the greater good (apparently they would all avoid Armageddon in the process). She allowed herself one last regretful look at her wand before reluctantly putting it back in her pocket.

"So."

Pansy sat down on the sofa next to Draco, heroically restraining herself from slapping him across the back of the head when the obnoxious snot immediately shifted further to the other end. Merlin, grant her patience.

"No plans, then?"

Draco looked up from the book he'd been reading and turned his head to glare at her. "Exactly, what part of 'bugger off' are you struggling with?" Then he looked back down and carried on reading.

Pansy sat on her hands and ground off about a centimetre of tooth enamel. Armageddon. Armageddon. Avoiding Armageddon. She just had to keep telling herself that she was doing this for the shoes that she would one day own. Forcing a smile, that probably looked more like a grimace, she carried gamely on.

"It's a bit stuffy in here, don't you think?"

The look Draco gave her left her in no doubt what he thought of that comment.

She didn't get it. When had baiting Draco regarding Weasley suddenly become so difficult? And that's when it hit her - she was trying too hard. Subtlety was lost on Draco. After all, the silly git had been panting for Weasley for years now and was still to realise it. A thestral hoof to the head would be too subtle at this point.

"Draco, Weasley is dressed in his Quidditch uniform and practising alone on the Quidditch pitch."

Pansy sighed; it would have been nice if the inconsiderate bastard had at least tried to feign indifference. Or at the very least, made a passing attempt to cover up his exit with some sort of excuse. As it was, the poor first year who had had the misfortune of being between Draco and the door would probably bear the imprint of Draco's shoe on his forehead for quite sometime.

Pansy took out a tattered piece of parchment from her robes and stared determinedly at the words written there. She could do this. She would get through this body and sanity intact. Merlin willing. Her hand clenched tighter around the crumpled paper. She took a deep breath and read the words out in a loud, if slightly shaking voice.

"There will be no new shoes come Armageddon."

She sagged in relief. Granger was right, it did help.

They made an interesting group as they headed out to the Quidditch pitch that afternoon. Four Gryffindors and a lone Slytherin.

This had not been part of The Plan.

It had been agreed that Hermione and Pansy would see to the transportation of the boys, and that they would then observe events from a discreet distance. Ginny and Hermione had insisted on the observers being far enough away that they wouldn't be able to hear what was said between the boys; they felt they owed them at least that much privacy. Seamus unsurprisingly had been quite put out about that. What had been surprising, however, was the apparent reluctance to accept this aspect of The Plan that was demonstrated by Pansy and Neville too. But Hermione and Ginny had stood firm.

Hermione had met up with Pansy as previously arranged, only to find the other three waiting for them too. Seamus was insistent that they all be present, mumbling something about "seeing it through" and "owing it to his mate, Ron." Hermione wasn't fooled for a second. Ginny had simply shrugged and nodded her head at Neville (who had offered no explanation, but looked so imploringly at them that no one had had the heart to send him back).

It was only as they reached the entrance hall that the terrible realisation hit Hermione. "Oh no!" She cried. "What if the Potion kicks in while Ron is in the air?"

They all broke into a run at that, and reached the pitch just in time to see Ron plunge from his broomstick in a dead faint.

Before any of them could react, his rapid descent was suddenly halted and for a moment he was suspended in mid-air, his hair fluttering in the breeze. Then, his body lowered gently to the ground.

Ginny nudged Hermione and pointed to the Slytherin stand. Malfoy had his wand raised towards Ron and was clearly chanting something. The five spectators quickly ducked behind the equipment shed.

As soon as Ron's body landed safely on the ground, Malfoy ran down to him.

Peeping around the side of the shed, the group of eager observers watched as the blond boy leant carefully over Ron's body. He touched the red head's face first, clearly checking to make sure he was still breathing. Then he leant down further, his hand reaching up to run through the unconscious boy's hair, as he continued to lean his own face closer to Ron's.

Ginny clutched suddenly at Hermione's arm. "Oh Merlin," she whispered. "He's going to kiss him."

Pansy pushed past Seamus to get a better look.

Draco was just inches away from Ron's lips now.

They all leant further around the corner, holding their breaths.

Closer...closer...and Malfoy collapsed in an undignified sprawl over Ron's recumbent body.

"Bugger."

The girls turned to look at Neville in surprise.

Neville shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets before looking away, a definite red tinge to his cheeks.

"Right." Hermione broke the silence. "Let's get the two idiots off the pitch and out of sight." She sounded slightly breathless.

Twenty minutes, and two Mobilicorpus charms later, and the boys had been carefully placed in a specially prepared tree.

This tree had been no random choice; it had been carefully chosen for it's proximity to a large clearing - it would be easier to move and they would have an unobstructed view. The branches of the tree had also all been carefully cleared, save for the one on which the boys were to rest. This was to make sure that they didn't simply climb down once they woke up (though Pansy had laughed out loud at that declaring "you could put a bloody great ladder against the trunk and Draco still wouldn't be able to get down, the bleeding wuss!").

The branch that remained had been modified too; it was now wide enough to provide a modicum of comfort and safety. Hermione had also placed a protection spell around the base of the tree (Ron's ability to fall off just about anything and invariably land on his head could never be over-estimated).

Finally, the tree itself had been moved to stand in splendid isolation, at least until the time was right to provide a means of escape, at which point Hermione would move one of the other, less bare trees, to stand next to it. Ron would have no trouble jumping from one tree to the other and climbing his way down, although Pansy had laughed until she cried at Hermione's suggestion that Draco would also be equal to the task. The Gryffindor witch had decided to worry about that later (all the while hoping that by the time that moment arrived the two prats would be so wrapped up in each other, that details such as that would prove unimportant; either that, or she'd climb up there and push the useless snot off herself ).

They'd been moving away from the tree, when Ginny remembered about the wands. It had already been decided that there would be no point in the boys having them, as the Potion would also remove all memory of their Magical abilities. There was also some concern that if they found them it would only lead to more confusion and the ever present worry that such familiar objects might prompt the premature return of their memories. Ginny uttered a quick, "Accio wands", tucking the retrieved wands inside her robes before retreating to the carefully chosen observation spot with the others.

Once they were all settled and out of sight, Hermione took out her Omnioculars. A blanket. A hamper containing sandwiches, sausage rolls, three quiches, four gateaux and lashings of ginger beer. A large, heavy tome entitled Hogwarts: A History. And finally, a flask of hot chocolate. It was going to be a long night, after all.

Now

Several minutes had passed without Ron coming to any definite conclusions regarding his current predicament.

And well, truth be known, instead of panicking (a not entirely unreasonable reaction surely given the situation) he was actually feeling peculiarly content.

While it was undoubtedly true that there remained some fairly serious impediments to his future peace of mind - who he was, why he was up a tree and how he was going to get down - being chief amongst them, there was also no denying that the branch he was lying on was really rather comfortable and his fellow-occupant's hair felt incredibly silky as it slid between his fingers (he wasn't quite sure when - or indeed why - he'd started to stroke the other boy's hair but it had proven to be very calming).

He now felt that all those other pressing, and let's face it, rather depressing questions could wait. He sighed and curled a blond strand around a small, slightly pointed ear.

Harry sighed happily, enjoying his first headache free moment since returning to school that year.

He reached up to scratch his head through the thick leather that encased most of it. It was nice of Ron to let him borrow his goalkeeper's helmet, even if it did make his head sweat and therefore itch. He did feel bad about lying to his friend though. But he couldn't tell him the real reason for needing it. No, all in all, he was quite sure that telling Ron it helped keep Voldemort out of his head was much better than admitting the real reason.

He just wished Ron hadn't felt it necessary to share the information with Dumbledore.

He really wasn't looking forward to his first Legilimens lesson with Snape (just thinking about what sort of secrets he might reveal made him feel positively queasy), especially when it was actually totally unnecessary.

Still, it might take his mind off Ron and what he might be doing up that tree with Malfoy...oooh look a table.

Draco nuzzled his face against his pillow and sighed softly, something smelt nice. He smiled and hugged the pillow tightly. It said "Ouch!"

Odd. He'd never known his pillow to object to being squeezed before. He released his grip and sat up, staring down at the talking pillow. Which now appeared to be a leg. That suddenly said "Hello."

Draco yelped and jumped back.

Then several things happened at once.

Probably most important of which was the sudden and terrifying realisation that he was sitting in a tree, a very tall tree, on a not very wide branch. The more urgent, and definitely much more terrifying realisation a moment later, that actually he was now not so much sitting in the tree as falling off the tree, hit him rather hard and probably explained his embarrassingly girly scream.

The next thing he knew, what had promised to be a very rapid descent and undoubtedly painful landing, was abruptly halted, as a hand reached out and grabbed hold of the front of his robes. Another arm quickly wrapped itself around his back and he found himself being hugged close to a warm and very solid body (and if he took the opportunity to nuzzle the soft neck of said warm and very solid body, well who could blame him; it had been a very trying morning after all).

"What's happening now?"

"For Merlin's sake, Seamus, stop knocking my arm." Hermione removed the Omnioculars from her eyes and frowned at her agitated housemate.

"How on earth do you expect me to see what's going on, if you keep bumping into me?"

"Sorry, Hermione." Seamus looked anything but contrite.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned. "I'm warning you one last time. You better not have any money riding on the outcome of this, Seamus."

Hermione had been extremely suspicious of the Irish boy's excessive interest in the development of things between Malfoy and Ron; a suspicion that had only intensified when Seamus had insisted on being included in their current group. She had warned him early on in the enterprise, that if she discovered anything untoward going on, then she would make him rue the day that he had ever offered odds on anyone's shagging prospect, hinting rather heavily that his own future shagging prospect would become the first casualty. She had thought that her words had been enough, but you never could tell with Seamus, it took a lot to curb the boy's more exuberant tendencies.

"Now, would I, 'Mione?"

The look of wounded innocence that accompanied the words was fooling no one, but Hermione decided to give him the benefit of the doubt - for now - and let the matter drop.

Returning the Omnioculars to her eyes, she adjusted the focus and trained them once more on the branch where the drama was currently unfolding.

"Ooh."

Everyone leant forward in anticipation, that sounded promising.

"Ron is hugging Malfoy." She turned to smile at the waiting group. "And it's surprisingly sweet."

The girls and Neville all "aawed", Seamus "urghed", and if Harry had been there, he'd probably have banged his head on the nearest tree.

The Plan was a go.

Draco's day was definitely looking up.

True, it had had a singularly shaky start, but his current situation seemed to be making up for it rather nicely. He breathed in deeply and wondered if a lick would be worth the possible punch in the mouth that it might elicit. He had just decided to risk it, when another thought suddenly gave him pause. What if the owner of the delicious smelling neck actually resembled a troll? Ah.

He got no further in his contemplations, however, as the person in question chose that moment to release him. As the other boy moved back to lean against the trunk of the tree, Draco was at last able to look upon the face of his rescuer. His first impulse was to kick himself. Soundly. In hobnailed boots.

To think he could have been sucking on that neck. Bugger. Cruciatus was too good for him.

Draco's father was always telling him he should learn to take more risks, seize the moment as it were. He'd never fully appreciated the advice until now. Well, he wouldn't make that mistake twice.

He licked his lips, more in appreciation of the sight before him, than as a necessity to speak (but the other boy need not know that).

"Thank you."

Draco smiled his most charming smile as he spoke. He had no idea what he was doing up a tree with this bloke, or how they were going to get down again (he, for one, had no head for heights, so climbing down was not going to be an option as far as he was concerned) but that was no reason to come across as grumpy. And, certainly not if it might affect his chances of getting in the bloke's pants.

It seemed to be working. At least the other boy was smiling back; which made his startlingly blue eyes shine even more. Nice. Draco's eyes swept over the body in front of him taking in the vibrant red hair, those striking eyes and the long, well-toned limbs. Very nice.

Hermione was distracted by a scratching sound behind her. Lowering the Omnioculars and turning around, she was not at all pleased to discover Seamus, quill in hand, writing in a small, black book.

"Hem, hem"

Seamus dropped his quill and jumped about three feet in the air.

Hermione smiled smugly; it was nice to know that her impersonation of Umbridge was coming along nicely.

"Hermione!" Seamus scowled at her as he bent to pick up his quill from the ground. "You scared the snot out of me. I thought bloody Umbridge had found us."

Hermione was unrepentant. "Guilty conscience, Seamus?" She asked with a smile.

"No." The Irish boy shrugged casually. "You know as well as I do, that we'd all be in trouble just for being out here." He nodded his head over her shoulder. "Never mind what she'd do if she saw what's going on up in that tree."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "And, of course, if in addition to that anyone was discovered gambling..." She looked pointedly at the book in his hand.

Seamus looked down at the book, before looking back up and grinning. "What, this old thing?" He waved the book in front of him. "This is only my diary, Hermione."

Ginny snorted and Pansy muttered, "Yeah, right."

"Really." Hermione was smirking now. "Well, just think of the trouble you'd be in if Umbridge ever got her hands on that."

Seamus turned very pale and quickly shoved the book inside his robes, the quill he stuffed into his pocket.

Hermione shared a triumphant look with the rest of the group before turning back to the Omnioculars.

"So," Draco smiled, "how did we end up here?"

The other boy's shoulders slumped. "Bugger," he said. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

"Ah."

There was no denying it, Draco was definitely disappointed. While enjoying the view currently on offer, he had rather hoped that he'd be able to enjoy it up close and preferably on the ground in the very near future. That was now looking less and less likely. A new thought suddenly occurred to him.

"I don't suppose you know who I am do you?"

The red head laughed. "Sorry, mate. I don't even know who I am."

"Huh. Well that certainly complicates matters."

Draco sat down heavily on the branch, legs dangling over the edge. It wasn't the most secure position he'd ever found himself in and he was fighting a strong urge to wrap his arms around the bough and hold on for dear life.

"Okay, so let's consider the facts."

The other boy - and Draco was really getting tired of thinking of him like that - Red - there, much better - had sat down at the fork of the branch and was leaning up against the trunk. His long legs were straddling the bough and a very pretty picture it made too. It also looked a damn sight less precarious than his own position. Git. Draco swung his right leg over the branch and shifted so he was facing the trunk with his hands placed in front of him on the branch. He might not actually be holding onto the bough, but at least this way it was only a short lurch forward (he could also casually lock his legs tightly around the branch without appearing to be a great big wuss). He felt irrationally annoyed at Red for thinking of it before he did.

"Go on." He waved his hand imperiously to let Red know it was okay to continue.

The red head frowned at him. "Oh, only if you're sure it's okay. I mean, I wouldn't want to stop you getting comfortable. After all, it's not as if our situation requires any urgent consideration."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Well, there's no need to take that tone. Forgive me, if I felt the need to adopt a position that wouldn't result in my plummeting to the ground any time soon."

"Oh, come off it." Red was beginning to sound angry now. "You're just as safe up here as I am and you don't see me poncing around trying to get cosy."

"Cosy!" Draco spat back. "Oh yes, I'm feeling very cosy - stuck up a tree with a ginger imbecile."

"Oi!"

But Draco refused to let the other boy interrupt him. "Doubtless, for an oik like you, clambering up and down trees comes as second nature. I mean look at you." His voice had taken on a sneering tone now. "You probably live in the forest."

Red jumped to his feet at that. "Oi, you stuck up git, who do you think you're talking to?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I. DON'T. KNOW," he said slowly, annunciating each word carefully, as if speaking to an idiot. "Isn't that the bloody point?" He shook his head. "You're really not the brightest candle in the box are you?"

Red had turned well...red, and was quivering with anger now. He looked quite magnificent, although Draco really wasn't in the mood to let him know it. It was all very well the chap looking gorgeous and all that, but he also needed to learn his place. He was quite clearly several classes below Draco's own and should speak to his betters with a bit more respect. Just because they were stuck up a tree, without any memory, it didn't mean that they should let standards drop.

"Oh dear."

Hermione dropped the Omnioculars from her eyes and turned to face the others. She looked quite ill.

"I don't think we thought this through."

"What's happening?"

"Why?"

"Weasley's going to kill him, isn't he?"

Everyone had shouted at once but Hermione only responded to Pansy's question.

"Yes, he is." She frowned at the other girl. "How did you know?"

Pansy shrugged. "It is Draco."

Hermione considered this for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. Then, shaking her head as if to clear it, she sat up straighter and declared. "We have to do something."

She looked back through the Omnioculars. "Quickly!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Ginny lowered her wand and shrugged at the astonished faces. "What? You don't think that's the first time I've used that on Ron do you?"

They all laughed nervously.

"Okay." Hermione was all business again. She checked once more that the two boys were still frozen in place, and then turned to the others. "What do we do now?"

Neville stood up and took a deep breath. "We need to introduce some real danger. A minor injury to one of them would be good. You know something not life-threatening but which the other one could fuss and worry over."

He started to pace. "Oh, and definitely poor weather conditions." He paused for a moment. "I'd suggest wet and cold, a thunderstorm would be perfect. That way they'd get to cuddle together for warmth and well, those Quidditch uniforms look particularly good when wet. Ooh, and if we could rig it so one of them saves the other from some terrible peril, then we've got the whole hurt/comfort thing covered as well as some 'thank God we're alive sex' afterwards."

He stopped pacing and stood looking at the others, red faced and slightly breathless.

Pansy broke the stunned silence. "I have to say Longbottom, I'm impressed."

Ginny and Hermione looked blankly at each other for a moment.

(While Seamus thought he finally had his answer as to what it was Neville had been reading under his covers at night).

After a brief discussion they divided the spells between them.

Hermione was tasked with the job of producing a sudden and very localised thunderstorm.

Neville would break the branch.

Pansy had to injure Ron in such a way that it would appear to be caused by his arm catching on the jagged part of the broken bough (Neville had made disturbing - to Seamus anyway - cooing noises over this development saying that his sustaining the injury in the course of saving Draco was just "too precious"; Seamus had determined there and then to slip some more 'appropriate' reading material under his friend's pillow the first chance he got).

This last assignment had caused the most discourse. It was agreed quite quickly, that injuring Draco would be disastrous - they'd all seen how the big sissy acted when faced by a minor injury on the Quidditch pitch, and no one was at all confident that Ron's fledgling ardour would survive seeing the object of his affection sobbing like great a big girl. But then it seemed none of the Gryffindors were entirely comfortable with the idea of inflicting an injury on Ron. Pansy was the obvious choice. But "minor" and "non life-threatening" had been revisited several times and at length.

With everyone in place and with wands at the ready, Seamus was passed the Omnioculars so he could make sure everything proceeded as planned.

It just remained for Ginny to lift the Body Bind.

"Listen here, you poncy prat," Red was advancing on him now (and not in a good way). He looked very fierce with his eyes blazing and the tips of his ears glowing scarlet. Frankly, Draco was torn between weak-kneed lust and white-knuckled fear, both of which left him frozen to the spot.

Then, well then, everything went black for a minute and when the lights came back on, it was to the terrifying discovery that they were suddenly in the middle of a raging thunderstorm and the branch on which he'd been sitting had broken off right above where his hands had been resting. Draco just had a moment to take in Red's pale, horrified face, before he plunged to the ground.

"Brilliant, Hermione!"

Seamus was clearly impressed with the quick thinking of his housemate. He was still looking through the Omnioculars as Hermione uttered the levitation charm that allowed Malfoy the moment he needed to gather his wits enough to grab hold of the - conveniently placed - branch, just below the one he had so recently fallen from.

In next to no time, Ron was pulling the Slytherin back up. They both scrambled back on the branch until they were resting in a huddle against the trunk, clinging desperately to each other.

Seamus dropped the Omnioculars from his eyes and turned to nod his approval. "By Merlin, girl, you're good."

Hermione blushed (and sincerely hoped that she hadn't just helped the Irish boy send the rest of their classmates into poverty).

For the first few minutes after being pulled to safety, Draco just held on as tightly as he could to any part of the other boy that he could reach. His breathing was ragged and despite the stinging cold of the rain his body felt hot and prickly. Slowly, he came back to himself and an acute awareness of the trembling body he was clinging to.

Red had one leg pressed across the top of Draco's thighs, the other hooked around his back, holding him firmly in place, both of the red head's arms were wrapped tightly around Draco's back, pulling him close to his chest. Draco had never felt so safe.

Gradually, he became aware of his own limbs. His legs felt wobbly, as if he was trying to stand on them after a particularly dizzying Portkey trip. Red chose that moment to press his own legs tighter around Draco's shivering body, as if sensing the other boy's need to feel grounded. Draco gripped his hands deeper into the red head's clothes and pushed his nose against the boy's neck; the slight flutter of Red's pulse against his cheek seemed to vibrate right down to his toes.

They stayed like that for several minutes.

Finally the cold rain trickling down Draco's neck won out over the romantic implications of their current tableau.

Draco forced himself to sit up and away from the comforting embrace of the other boy. He shook his head, not appreciating the droplets of freezing water that splattered across his face as he did so. Merlin, he hated the cold. And the wet.

He released the hand that was wrapped up in the front of Red's top and let it drop down on the other boy's arm.

"Aagh!" The red head jerked his arm back, clearly in pain.

What the hell...

Draco turned to reach for Red's arm and for the first time noticed how the water dripping from the tattered sleeve was tinged with red. "Shit! You're hurt."

He touched the other boy's arm gently, appalled at the stickiness he encountered there. Pushing the boy's torn sleeve back carefully, he soon found the source of the blood. There was a jagged cut running from his wrist, up his forearm, to the crook of his elbow. Several slivers of wood protruded at intervals from the wound, although given the depth and width of the cut itself, Draco was fairly certain that none of them had caused the main injury. With a sickening twist to his stomach, Draco realised that the damage must have been sustained when the red head had pulled him back onto the branch. Suppressing his urge to gag, he began to remove the splinters with great care, wincing at the occasional gasp from Red that accompanied the removal of the bigger, deeper embedded slivers. Neither boy spoke.

Before too long, Draco had cleared the site of the wound and was able to access the true extent of the injury. He was relieved to see, that now the splinters had been cleared away, and the rain had washed away most of the blood, the damage wasn't as bad as he'd first feared. Although, there was no denying that it was a long cut - he ran a finger along the outer edge of the torn flesh, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of firm muscle beneath his finger tip - it didn't appear to be too deep, and Draco felt confident that if he could just bind it, then the bleeding would soon stop. Of course, for that he would need a suitable bandage.

He turned to face Red for the first time since his dramatic rescue and was shocked to find the other boy was smiling at him. He frowned crossly. "Bloody hell, you really are an imbecile, aren't you? You're injured, you idiot. You should be grimacing in pain, not smiling like a buffoon!"

But the stupid boy just smiled wider at him, until Draco felt that warm, prickly feeling seeping back into his whole body (and this time he was certain that it had nothing to do with anything as mundane as nearly falling twenty feet to his death).

"What's happening?"

"Why have you stopped talking, Hermione?"

"Let someone else have a look then!"

Hermione was really beginning to wish that they'd managed to find more than one pair of Omnioculars. She once again put her elbows to good use, shoving the others back, before turning to glower at them.

"Look!" She snapped. "We agreed that I would be in charge of the Omnioculars." She placed her hands on her hips.

The others all took a step back.

"Your constant interruptions are making this impossible!" She took a deep breath and stepped towards them. "Now, Ron is up that tree, wet, injured, and with an eternally grateful Malfoy staring deep into his eyes." She waved the Omnioculars at them. "If I miss them finally snogging, after all we've gone through, I swear I will make every last one of you wish that you had never been born."

She stamped her foot. "Now is that understood?"

They all nodded frantically.

"Good!" And she turned back to face the tree, Omnioculars firmly back in place.

A long, satisfied sigh a moment later was all the verification the others needed to know that they need not worry about her threat.

For now.

"Er," Seamus spoke out the side of his mouth. "you do reckon she's remembered the record facility on those things, right?"

(Years later, Draco would insist that it was he who leant forward first. Ron would just smile that same smile and not really care, much to Draco's annoyance).

Red's lips were incredibly soft. And warm.

Draco snaked his hand up and into the other boy's hair, pulling him closer.

Several minutes passed.

Finally, Draco relinquished his hold and leant reluctantly back. He took a deep breath and licked his lips, savouring the taste he found lingering there.

"Much as I'd love to continue this," he smiled up into the other boy's eyes. "We really need to get that arm bandaged."

Red nodded absently, then grabbed Draco by the neck and pulled him back in.

Draco sighed into his mouth. Oh well, if the ginger git insisted...

It took Ginny three tries but she eventually managed to wrestle the Omnioculars from Hermione's hands.

While she could understand the others' preoccupation with certain developments, first and foremost, that was her brother up in that tree, who was now bleeding and no nearer to getting down. Frankly, the whole Plan was beginning to pall for her.

"Hermione." She took hold of her friend's hand. "Don't you think it's time to get them down?"

Hermione looked slightly dazed for a minute, but the earnestness of Ginny's words seemed to bring her back to herself.

"Right," she said, shaking her head as if to clear it, then turned to the others. "So, are we all agreed? It's time to get them down?"

Seamus and Neville glanced guiltily at an almost tearful Ginny, before nodding their agreement.

Pansy looked momentarily disappointed, but then reluctantly mumbled, "I suppose."

Hermione gave Ginny's hand a quick squeeze then handed her the Omnioculars. The bushy-haired girl then took out her wand from inside her robes, raised it in the direction of the tree closest to the one in which Ron and Draco were sitting, and shouted, "Mobiliarbus!"

The tree began to twist and turn, while the forest around it resounded with the sound of its roots being torn from their mooring.

For a moment the watchers stared at each other in horror, while Ginny peered anxiously through the Omnioculars. Surely the boys would hear the commotion going on around them, and then it would be but a moment before they looked up to see a tree stomping towards them. Ginny let out a sigh of relief, they need not have worried, the boys were still far too interested in each other to notice anything else. She reached a hand behind her and gave the others the thumbs up.

Seamus giggled, slightly hysterically. "Ron and Draco sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G."

Several minutes passed uneventfully (for those on the ground, if not, for those in the tree).

Seamus stopped giggling. And singing. After a few minutes of grateful contemplation of the silence, the others turned their attention back to the boys.

Ten or so further minutes passed.

Then, five more.

It was Pansy who finally broke the silence.

"Look, Granger, nice as it's been bonding with you, I was hoping to spend Christmas at home surrounded by my wardrobes." She nodded her head towards the tree. "And as it's only six weeks away, perhaps you could give the horny little beggers a nudge?"

(Later, Draco would swear that it felt just like he'd been smacked in the back of the head by a branch. Ron, of course, would claim that was because that's how it felt when you fell in love).

"Ouch!"

"Huh?" Red looked at him, slightly woozily.

Draco reached his arm up to rub behind his head. There was a definite bump forming. What the f...

He looked around confused. Then, he looked again. "Is it just me, or does that tree suddenly seem a lot closer?"

Red sat up straighter and looked to where Draco was nodding.

"Huh." He said again.

For once, Draco couldn't blame him. Clearly he'd broken the poor boy's brain. Damn his sex appeal. Still, that tree had definitely moved. In fact it looked close enough, and unlike this sad excuse for a tree, blessed with enough branches for Red to climb down and fetch help. He said as much to the red head. It took him a while as he kept getting distracted by the way the other boy was running his fingers through his hair; he was also side-tracked once, twice, twelve times at the most by more soft, wet kisses.

"Ow!"

"Ouch!"

This time the blow to the back of Draco's head created a ricochet effect, causing his forehead to hit Red's with some considerable force. Surprisingly, neither chose to discuss the cause of the blow (some things were best left unknown) and chose instead to get on with the process of getting down from their current perch.

Initially, Draco scoffed at Red's suggestion that they both climb across to the other more climbable tree next to them. But following several hints from the red head concerning the myriad possibilities that might become open to them should they reach the ground, he allowed himself to be persuaded (Red assuring him that he would keep a tight hold of him the entire time, also went some way towards easing his concerns; as did the boy's demonstration of the exact hold he intended to use).

In fact, such was the red head's considerable powers of distraction, that not only did Draco find himself in the other tree before he'd even realised it, but he was soon stepping down from its lowest branch and onto the ground. He just had a moment to wonder why people seemed to make such a fuss over climbing trees, then Red was in front of him again, and he wisely chose to shelve all further thought in favour of pressing the other boy back against the tree trunk and licking his way into his mouth.

He was just starting to make progress on getting some of the ties on Red's shirt undone (while he would be the first to concede that the outfit itself looked sexy as hell, there was no denying that getting into it took a certain amount of dexterity and multi-tasking skills), when he felt a sudden stabbing pain in his head. For a minute he thought it was the phantom branch wielder again, but this pain felt different, more piercing. He stepped back from Red and doubled over clutching at his head. Then, as suddenly as the pain had started it stopped, to be replaced by the deeply uncomfortable feeling of sand pouring into his head, filling up spaces that he hadn't even realised were empty.

When the sensation finally ceased and he was able to stand up and open his eyes again, one look at the other boy's face, told him that he too had just suffered the same experience.

They stared at each other for a long moment, both looking and feeling utterly shell-shocked.

Then, the red head blinked. "Malfoy," he gasped.

Draco gaped in response. Weasley. It was Weasley. Red was Weasley. And then his brain shut down. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Ginny clutched desperately at Hermione's elbow. She'd given the Omnioculars back to the other girl as soon as Ron had safely stepped down from the tree, declaring that she couldn't bear to watch anymore.

Seamus and Neville were standing close behind the two girls; Neville was chewing nervously on his thumb nail, while Seamus was standing unnaturally still next to him.

Pansy was biting her bottom lip.

This was it. This was the moment that they'd all dreaded - and argued about at considerable length over the course of the last few hours. The one thing that none of them had been confident about was how the boys would react once their memories returned.

Neville, always the optimist, had tried to assure the others that the boys would surely seize the gift that had been given to them, and far from being angry with their friends for interfering, they would thank them for finally opening their eyes, and hearts, to each other.

Seamus, always the realist, had said they were much more likely to tell them to shove their gift up their arse.

"Bugger it!"

Draco's eyes grew round as Weasley took a step towards him, hands reaching out to grab the front of his robes in a terrible parody of the red head's earlier reaction up the tree. This time, Draco was convinced that instead of saving him, the other boy was about to punch him in the face. Instead, he found himself being pulled forward and his mouth seized in a heart-stopping kiss.

Several minutes passed before Draco's brain came back on line, but when it did, he immediately pushed the other boy away.

Looking up at Weasley's face he couldn't fail to notice the slump in the red head's shoulders and the disappointed expression that was spreading rapidly across his face.

He shook his head sharply at the other boy. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Weasley! You don't think I'm saying 'no' do you?" He grinned at the sudden look of hope that lit up the Gryffindor's face. "I have no idea how we came to be up that ruddy tree, or why we had no memory, but I've wanted to kiss you for a long time and I'll be damned if I'm going to stop now." He grabbed hold of Weasley's hand. "Come on, you lumbering great oaf. Let's get inside and find somewhere warm and soft to continue this."

The relief he felt when the red head grinned and pulled him back into his arms, he would deny for the rest of his life (no matter how much, or often, Ron teased him about it afterward).

24 Hours Later

Hermione had told Harry to meet her in the Room of Requirement straight after Transfiguration. She wasn't surprised to arrive before he did and just hoped that the dark-haired boy turned up at all. They really needed to talk. Which was really ironic when you thought about it. She had thought that the most uncomfortable conversation she'd have to face, would be her confession to Ron concerning recent events, but that conversation had actually gone very well (no doubt helped by the fact that the red head had just returned from his first 'official' date with Malfoy, and was sporting a huge grin and several hickeys).

She looked around the room and nodded approvingly. Once again, the Room had come through, providing everything that might be needed to make an awkward, and possibly emotional, conversation with one's close friend as comfortable as possible. Two large, comfy-looking arm chairs were settled near a big, open fire. A low table between the chairs was laden with plates of scones and cream cakes, a tall, silver jug of hot chocolate was sitting in the middle. Hermione eyed the box of tissues next to the jug and sincerely hoped that it wouldn't be needed.

She looked up as the door opened and a slightly sheepish looking Harry walked in; clearly he too was expecting a less than cheery talk. She frowned as she took in what he was wearing on his head.

The boy followed her eyes and automatically reached his hand up to touch the helmet that covered his head. "Er, Ron lent it to me," he said, sounding guilty. "I have to give it back after dinner." He continued, looking a little nauseous now.

Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Harry swallowed, as if trying to keep down the bile. "He needs it for his date with Malfoy. Apparently, the Slytherin git has a thing for Ron in his Quidditch gear." He looked decidedly pale now.

Right, that was it. Hermione had had just about enough of this. She rolled up her sleeves, placed her hands on hips and narrowed her eyes. "HARRY JAMES POTTER! THIS HOMOPHOBIC NONSENSE STOPS NOW!"

Harry's eyes had widened in fear at first, but his fearful look had quickly turned to one of confusion. "Huh?"

Hermione deflated. "Oh, just sit down, Harry." Clearly, he was still in denial; this could take some time.

She waited until they were settled in the chairs with a large mug of chocolate each and Harry had devoured a couple of cakes (she always found he and Ron were much more manageable when slightly sedated under the weight of food).

When she judged the moment right, she leant forward, adopted her most caring expression and said, "Harry, what is it about Ron's homosexuality that you find most upsetting?"

Harry looked momentarily perplexed, before his face cleared, and he nodded in sudden understanding. "Well," he began, as Hermione nodded encouragement. "The fact that he's obviously happier to shag Malfoy than me is pretty damn irritating."

"I know," he went on, totally misinterpreting Hermione's frown. "The time and attention I've lavished on that boy, and then, the ungrateful git picks Malfoy instead of me."

"Harry!" Hermione was on her feet now. "Are you mad?"

"Mad, Hermione?" He shook his head as he spoke. "I'm furious!"

48Hours Later

Hermione was surprised to find Pansy at the equipment shed before she was, usually the other girl turned up after her.

"Parkinson, what brings you out on this unseasonably warm day?"

Pansy frowned at the snow that encased her feet before replying. "Look, Granger, I realise that we very probably saved the world by our actions but that doesn't mean I have to sit around and listen to Draco wax lyrical about Weasley."

She shuddered and Hermione had a feeling it had nothing to do with the cold.

Hermione was frankly shocked; that really didn't sound like the Malfoy she knew and she said as much.

Pansy shrugged and then admitted. "Yes, okay, so the fool isn't even aware that he's doing it most of the time." She grinned. "And it does have Draco's own inimitable spin." Her smile faded. "But sometimes, it's just a little too much."

Hermione nodded sympathetically, she understood all too well. She stared out at the wide expanse of snow that covered the grounds. Christmas would soon be upon them.

Pansy interrupted her thoughts. "So, is Potter over is homophobic hissy fit yet?" She asked contemptuously.

To her surprise, Hermione started to laugh. Loudly. And with a definite hysterical edge.

Pansy shook her head, as if she still couldn't quite get her head around these latest revelations. "So, you're saying that Harry never actually had a problem with the 'gay thing'...just the whole 'why Malfoy and not me' thing?" She shook her head again. "I just don't get it? What has Weasley got that makes all these boys fall for him?"

Hermione frowned, she didn't appreciate the other girl's question. After all, she'd had hopes in that particular quarter herself.

"So," Pansy interrupted her thoughts. "Is Harry still jealous then?"

"Ha!" Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that. "No, he's not jealous any more. Apparently, he's moved on." She decided against revealing Harry's final confession concerning a little crush he had on a certain Potions Master. "No, now he's just worried that he'll have to make nice with Malfoy. Oh, and he's also not looking forward to having to witness Ron and Draco making googly eyes at each other, or Merlin forbid, snogging!"

Both girls considered that possibility for a moment, a sly grin breaking out on both their faces. Some hardships just had to be endured.

Epilogue

They had both been stunned by everyone's seemingly easy acceptance of their new relationship (actually the lack of surprise in certain quarters had been downright unsettling).

Draco had even received an owl from his mother that very morning stating her support of his 'lifestyle choice' (clearly the woman was watching far too much daytime Muggle television). She had gone on to assure him that his father too would come around in time (probably some time after his current little spell in St Mungo's).

Draco sank into Ron's arms, head nestled comfortably between shoulder and neck, he breathed the other boy in. He didn't care what had brought them here, what had brought them to this moment, he was just relieved and happy and warm and a little sad. It wasn't an easy future that they faced but he'd think of that later. For now, there was…well, now.

Lifting his head, his lips found Weasley's and just for that moment Draco lost himself again. For now, this would do.