Hermione had been having one of those days, when she seemed to be moving up-stream. She'd already had near-collisions with every Hufflepuff inhabiting the school, and a number of the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws tended to step out of the way at the very last minute and never actually touch her, and the Slytherins just tended to avoid her.
Except in the case of Malfoy, but he never got close enough to run into, only close enough to call out "witty" insults.
Hermione was not a happy camper. When she had gotten out of bed this morning, she had immediately slipped on a stray essay from the night before, and only avoided either twisting her ankle or destroying the essay by sheer chance. Thankfully, upon noticing her near-impact with the side of the portrait hole, Harry and Ron had, after many manly chuckles, taken to being her bodyguards—literally—and would simply steer her out of the way of accidents. Unluckily for her, they had both just left for Quidditch practice and she had to make it from the Charms classroom to the library, and finally to the common room, all on her own.
Of course, they might show up while she was in the library and escort her back. But considering how easily those boys were distracted by broomsticks and balls, it wasn't likely.
Ha! There were the library doors, and she had yet to run into anyone—had yet to see anyone, if truth be told…
Oomph.
Well, there was someone, Hermione thought from her interesting vantage point, sprawled on the floor.
And Merlin was he someone.
"I never took you as clumsy, Granger." The husky voice from above snapped her out of her daze.
"I'm having an off day, Zabini. Ever heard of one?" she snarled, attempting to stand up. Technically, she did manage to stand, if only to fall back down when Zabini tried to put a steadying hand on her, from which she pulled away instinctively. In fact, they both ended up on the floor.
"You can get off me any time now, Zabini. I do have better things to do." She managed to spit the words out, although she was sure her voice was shaking. As well it should be, with five feet eleven inches of male body on top of her.
"I'm quite enjoying it here myself, Granger."
The boy was laughing at her. Laughing.
Clearly, he had to die. But because she wanted to save her 'get out of Azkaban free' card for someone else, she did the next best thing and shoved him off her.
So now they were sitting facing each other, her glaring, and he with a cunning look in his eyes she didn't like at all. "What are you looking at, Zabini?"
"Just you," he said loudly. Then more softly, as he rose to his towering height and began to walk away, "Always you."
Hermione gaped after him for a long moment, before coming to the conclusion that the whole world was crazy, Zabini was simply a particularly loony inhabitant of an absolutely crazy world, and that if something didn't start making sense, then she'd just have a long talk with Ginny. That girl was always good for putting things in perspective, mainly because she had, as she was fond of tartly remarking, had an imaginary relationship with The-Boy-Who-Sometimes-Spoke-Only-In-Caps, as well as his archenemy.
Yes, that's what she'd do. She'd skip the library, go straight to bed—obviously she wasn't getting enough sleep—and when she woke up tomorrow, the world would make more sense.
Or she'd talk to Gin.
"Oh, that's so romantic!"
Hermione could practically see the hearts in Ginny's eyes as she clasped her hands below her chin.
"Romantic? It was basically an admittance of stalking! Stalking is creepy!"
"Well, yeah, I'll admit that. I'd know of course… still feel a little bad about that… not that I was as creepy as Creevy or anything. I mean—"
"Could you please focus, Gin?"
"Right, right. As I was saying, stalking is creepy, yes… but Zabini's a God, I mean have you seen his—"
"So you're saying it's okay because my stalker is attractive?!" Hermione knew her voice had gone to that shrill place of panic, but she simply couldn't help it. She was panicked! Sod it all, Ginny was supposed to help her, be all comforting, and whatnot, not defend him!
"Er, well...If you put it like that, I suppose not. All I'm saying is you could do worse, I mean, if a Slytherin had to stalk you, it could be worse, you know. Like Goyle." At this, both girls cringed.
"You could have made the point without the mental trauma, I'm fairly sure of this."
"Wish I had," Gin said, cringing again. Then she grinned. "So, what are you going to do about it?"
That eager, squee-ish tone of voice forced Hermione to realize it may have not been the best idea to bring this matter to Gin's attention.
"Er, do? I don't plan to do anything about it. Except avoid him!"
"What? You can't! Sod it, I haven't had something this romantic happen to me in—oh, let me think—ever! And if I'm going to live vicariously thorough you, you need to do something. One of us needs to be getting some action!"
"Ginny!"
Another voice stole the words right out of Hermione's throat. Unfortunately for her, and Ginny as well, that voice belonged to Ron, who had, as had Harry who was standing slack jawed behind the redhead, heard at least the last bit of the conversation. If not more.
"Oh bugger," Ginny mumbled as Hermione's head was reacquainted with the table.
Even with Ginny's mild psychosis—really, it wasn't that romantic, was it?—she was obviously the best choice to have told the tale too. This much Hermione knew as she was once again frog marched between her two self-titled bodyguards. Of course it was comforting to know that Ginny, as well as all the other Gryffindor girls of Hermione's year, were undergoing the same torture.
Mainly because when Hermione, with a number of not-so-helpful interjections— "And his eyes!"—from Ginny, told the story to Ron and Harry, she really should have told them somewhere else.
Or lied.
They, of course, caused a ruckus, and as they were in the Gryffindor common room, the others had come to investigate what had caused The Boy-Who-Didn't-Tremble-At-Certain-Death to scream.
This, of course, wouldn't have changed anything, had not Lavender and Parvati, upon hearing the topic of discussion, started gushing about attractive Slytherins. Namely, Zabini, Nott, Pucey, and Merlin forbid, Malfoy.
This, of course, set the Gryffindor boys who weren't already having epileptic fits, into them. After they were done twitching, they had gotten together and decided that the girls were obviously ill and should be watched.
Constantly.
Thus they decided to act as bodyguards.
Constantly.
To be fair, Hermione thought it was sweet. Or she had, but it was now the ninth day of her body being guarded, and she was furious. It would have been okay; maybe, if they could keep quiet while she was studying. But they were boys, and they couldn't, and she hadn't managed to finish her Potions Essay—which was due in two days! Two days!—because of them. She was going to kill them.
But first, she needed chocolate...lots and lots of chocolate.
"You have to stop them Hermione!"
"Blurg?"
Needless to say, Hermione wasn't at her best first thing after being woken up at, oh, two forty-two in the morning.
"Wha?" she managed a little more coherently as she peered up into her dorm mate's, plus Ginny's, faces.
"They're driving us crazy! I mean I'm sure they're driving you crazy too, so I suppose we can't ask you to stop them. But please Hermione! Come up with a plan, any plan! We'll all help; just make them stop following us around!" Lavender pleaded.
"Yeah!" Parvati's eyes were darting all over the place and she looked extremely tense.
"Bloody annoying it is!" This last bit came from Ginny, who seemed annoyed, both that she was being followed by over-protective males, and that the person she was living vicariously through was as well.
"Couldn't we discuss this in the morning?" Hermione asked while yawning.
"Not really, if we don't come down on time tomorrow they'll try to get up here again, remember what happened last time? And we won't be left alone to plan tomorrow during the day." It seemed to Hermione that Parvati was thinking far to clearly for this early in the morning.
"Okay, fine. What are our resources?" The blank looks Hermione was expecting upon this question never came; instead, Lavender hoped off of Hermione's bed and went to rummage around in her chest.
"We made a list before waking you up. The seventh year girl's have offered their help, as have the fifth through second year girls. The first years are still a little overwhelmed so I didn't even ask them. We also have everything in here, of course, a wheelbarrow and the about twenty mousetraps. Nineteen to be exact I think."
"Really?" Hermione's mind had already begun to scheme. "Alright, listen closely, here's what we have to do."
The four girls continued planning throughout the night, but the thought of being free of their bodyguards made the lack of sleep worth it.
It had failed. Their wonderful plan was a failure. The boys were now convinced someone was targeting the girls and were more inspired then ever to be good bodyguards. The girls didn't give up; rather they began to scream at the boys, which unfortunately didn't work either as the boys were still convinced the girls were 'ill'.
So now, it was time for Plan D. (They had skipped Plan C upon realizing that they had no idea where to get that much pudding.) Hermione didn't like Plan D at all, mainly because she had made it up thinking that self-sacrifice was the noble thing to do and that they'd never have to use it. However, upon realizing it was their last choice, noble self-sacrifice seemed less noble and more moronic.
Which was why she found herself sneaking down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, hoping that the house elves would be willing to part with ridiculous amounts of pudding.
As always the sight of the fruit bowl brought back fond memories to Hermione. She tickled the pear and entered, spotting Dobby right away.
"Dobby, you wouldn't happen to hav-"
"My, my, my. What do we have here?" said a voice behind her. "Why, I do believe it is Granger, and without her bodyguards too. Snuck out did you?"
It was him. Of course it was him. Her luck, as of late, seemed to require that people appear just where they were least wanted. And people disappear when wanted as well--or so a glance at where Dobby had oh-so-recently been showed.
Before she could think, Hermione spun around and shouted, "It's all your fault!" She was shocked, probably more shocked then Zabini even, as she covered her mouth and took a step back. That hadn't been what she'd meant to say.
"And how, exactly, is it 'all my fault'?" Zabini had an odd look on his face. He also appeared closer then he'd been a second ago.
She took another step back, took a deep breath and said, "If you hadn't admitted to stalking me, I never would have felt the need to tell Ginny what happened and Harry and Ron wouldn't have overheard and I wouldn't be dealing with two bodyguards all the sodding time!"
He laughed. Laughed.
Obviously, he still had to die.
"When did I tell you I was stalking you Granger? I promise I'm not."
"Of course you are! You as much as said you were! 'What are you looking at, Zabini?' 'Just you, always you.' What else would you mean by that comment if not an admission of stalking!"
Zabini had paled considerably over the duration of Hermione's comment. "Yo-you heard that?" He took a step back and looked to the side. Under his breath he muttered something she couldn't make out. Then in a normal volume, if not tone, of voice, he added, "Forget it Granger. Look, it was nothing. If you want I'll have a talk with your bodyguards and convince them you don't need any protection from this 'Big Bad Slytherin.' Sorry for causing you so much trouble, I'll leave you alone now." He turned away and started walking briskly away as Hermione stared after him in shock.
Her amount of shock doubled when she called out, without conscious thought, "Wait, Zabini!"
Of course, she now had no idea what to say, and her head was starting to hurt from all the thinking. Her mouth seemed to have ideas of what to say, and for once she decided to let it.
"What if I don't want to be left alone? What if I don't want protection from the 'Big Bad Slytherin'? What if I want you to cause me trouble? Aren't you even going to ask me?" her voice was wavering slightly, though she did manage to keep from whispering the whole thing which was a major accomplishment in itself.
He pivoted on a foot to stare at her. He stared for what felt like an eternity to her, and she was sure she was blushing bright enough to power a small lamp. She looked down, unable to take it anymore, and missed the slow grin that spread over his face. She looked up when she heard his footfalls, afraid that he was walking away. Instead, he was stalking forward.
"Do you want to be left alone, Hermione?" He seemed to growl the question in his husky voice as he came closer. She took a step back while shaking her head 'no'.
"Do you want protection from this 'Big Bad Slytherin'?" This time when he asked it there was an odd light in his eyes. He continued moving forward, and she took a step back while shaking her head 'no' again.
"Do you want me to cause you trouble?" This question he purred as he got closer and closer. Hermione tried to take another step back and realized she had run out of floor and was flush against the wall. This time she nodded. And he swooped down and captured her mouth for a soft kiss.
"Good, because this 'Big Bad Slytherin' doesn't want to leave you alone and would love to cause you trouble." He was still purring, but this time his face was about four centimeters away from hers and his hands were braced on the wall behind her.
"You talk too much," she said, right before tangling her hands in his hair and dragged his lips those four inches to hers.
She was snuggling down in bed when she remembered her original reason for going to the kitchen. To avoid Plan D.
That hadn't worked at all, especially considering she had met the other participant of Plan D down there and snogged him senseless. Of course, the girls would be happy that so far Plan D was a success, if not quite as it had originally been planned.
The original plan was to hunt Blaise down and ask him to pose as her boyfriend so she could then tell Harry and Ron that their meddling had sent her into Zabini's arms. The new and improved plan was to snog her boyfriend the next morning at breakfast and tell Harry and Ron that their meddling had sent her into Blaise's arms. She quite liked the new and improved plan.
End