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Insomnia

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Hermione, Draco or those little Harry lolly pops I've seen around. And quite frankly, those disturb me.

AN: Review if you love it, review if you hate it. If it's all mediocre to you I'll understand if you don't review. But I will cry.

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The Ravenclaw door slipped shut behind him, louder than he'd like for this time of night. Draco took long steps, enjoying the way the muscles pulled as he stretched out his legs. He fixed the buttons on his shirt in a long-practiced routine. The scent of sex hung off him, thick and wanton. The moonlight slipped into the corridor and ran its fingers through his hair, glossing it like white gold.

All he wanted now was to get back to Slytherin and wash her flavour off his body, before curling up into black silk and maybe get some sleep. He laughed at that thought and shook his head, shaking his hair out and feeling the sweat at the nape of his neck chill with the night air.

He stiffened when he saw a figure approaching him. How had he missed that, he wondered, and thought that maybe his insomnia was blurring his concentration more than he wanted to admit. But the figure walked closer, almost floating and he realized it was because they were silent. Their robes swirled out behind them with the inertia of their movement, and still they were absolutely silent. Not so much as the dry brush of the robe on the floor.

Magic, he curled his lip. At least it wasn't Finch, that slimy git would never be that cunning. Draco felt a nervous pressure lifted from his chest from that realization that he didn't care to acknowledge. He hadn't been caught in three years; it was a matter of personal pride, not fear.

"Granger," he murmured, recognizing slowly the soft curves of the face, the perfect upturn of the nose and the chocolate curls hugging her face underneath the hood. Her eyes – perfect circles of brown – stared straight ahead, not even flickering to him as she passed.

"Mudblood," he announced, louder. He planted his feet apart and assumed his usual it's-not-arrogance-when-you're-really-this-good stance, waiting for a hurt look or a snappy ill-thought insult. He wasn't choosy.

"Malfoy," she stated. She didn't so much as glance at him and her pace didn't falter. Draco felt his mouth fall open as he stared at the robes flowing around her, disappearing back into the blackness of the corridor. He wondered then, what the hell just happened?

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Ginny rolled out of bed with dawn just lighting the horizon, her hand slipping over her alarm to stop it going off. She shrugged on a robe and made her way quietly to the Head Girl's chambers.

"Hermione," she sighed, as she swung the bathroom door open, being greeted by a familiar sight. Three weeks ago she had thought this year would be a good one, maybe the first wholly good year. She'd thought that Harry and Ron would get into stupid trouble but not enough to stop them graduating, and that Hermione would be a great Head Girl, and maybe that tasty Ravenclaw Albert would finally find feisty redheads were the way to go. But no, fate had to screw her royally.

She sighed again as she linked her arms under Hermione's and pulled her up out of the bath. Hermione shivered and stirred, blinking up at Ginny with a smile.

"G'morning," she drawled.

"You're a ray of sunshine," Ginny smirked and rolled Hermione into a fluffy towel, before helping her back to her bedroom.

She was learning to get used to things. Not to like them, but to accept them. Ginny accepted that she'd be getting up before what any other Gryffindor thought was a sane time for Saturday. She accepted that she'd find Hermione asleep in an ice-cold bath. She even accepted the dark marks coating Hermione's skin, and the way she flinched when Ginny moved her. But the way the light in Hermione's eyes was fading; that was something she couldn't accept.

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Hermione stirred as the moon came fully overhead. She stretched out her muscles lightly, before throwing back her bedsheets. She was grateful for the expanse of the Head Girl's room and the stretch of mirrors along one wall. Hermione stood in front of it and lifted her nightgown over her head, naked underneath.

The bruises seemed almost black in the dull light. They stretched across her stomach, down her legs, up her thighs. Even her wrists were encased with dark bands. Hermione cracked a wicked smile, thinking how her nightly activities could be mistaken for a sadomasochistic edge.

She watched the mirror as she repeated a simple set of movements, moving her entire body, until they were fluid. Then, she undid the lock-charm on her end closet and pulled out what'd she come to think of as her night-uniform. Throwing the cloak on afterwards she pulled the hood up and flowed silently through the corridors, down a maze of stairs, and out into the yard.

She noted everything as she passed. Blackness under every door she'd passed in Hogwarts. The place was asleep. Outside, the moon was waning, and clouds were coming over. The ground had the slightest frost, which she felt crumple under her leather boots. Hagrid's hut was dark some distance away. She needed practice at this part, she knew. The observing, the cataloguing.

'Know your surroundings better than you know your lover,' he always joked. Then he'd give her a certain look, to remind her of the rules of their game.

"Hermione."

She shuddered, thinking that she'd been oblivious to another student. Ahead of her, another cloaked figure emerged from the tree-line.

"Professor," she let herself smirk, "You're not supposed to wait here."

"You're not supposed to be late," he growled.

"I'm barely conscious as it is." She shook the sleep off her head, growing more alert by just being around him. Her body knew what to expect next, and it was getting ready. He frowned and turned, striding back into the forests. Hermione looked around once more, out of a sense of practice more than to actually look. But she saw a blur of white in one tower window, dropping back as quickly as she'd turned around. Hermione frowned and squinted at the window. The casing was green and silver.

She snarled low under her breath and turned back around, following her master deeper into the forest.

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