Waking Up Is Hard to Do
By Headupintheclouds
Hermione Granger, our favorite practical, responsible Head Girl, the very picture of maturity, did not want to wake up. It was the morning after a lengthy study session, alone, in the Heads' Common Room.
Hermione had been up until the wee hours, studiously and laboriously poring over an essay she'd written for History of Magic, the first class she had that morning. Luckily, it was the Heads' only night off from patrol duties, so Hermione could fixate fully on the task at hand.
The essay was supposed to encompass the politics behind the 1374 Revival of Magical Code. It was a topic Hermione was thoroughly familiar with before even beginning to research, but the deeper she delved into the dusty books lining Hogwarts' library, the more difficult it was to lay on paper.
Around one in the morning, Hermione was satisfied with the content of her essay, and began to inspect the essay for grammar mistakes. It didn't take long before she was completely pleased with the essay overall, and she wandered up to bed, slightly perturbed at the fact that Draco Malfoy had been out all night and had not yet seen fit to return.
Relief struck Hermione as she crawled into bed and fell straight asleep.
As the bright rays of a morning sun greeted her, however, Hermione found herself snuggling ever deeper into the covers.
A few minutes later, Hermione's alarm clock joined the coalition trying to awaken her. The alarm clock told her that it was an hour and a half until her first class began. This allowed time enough to dress, scurry down to the Great Hall for some breakfast, and then return to her dormitory, collect her books, and arrive in class at least 5 minutes early.
Hermione quickly reset the alarm to wake her in one hour, which left her roughly enough time to throw on some clothes and scurry down to Professor Binns' class. This was quite a bit closer than Hermione would generally approve of for a schedule, but in her sleep-deprived state, she found it perfectly acceptable.
Not everyone, however, could be trusted to leave Hermione's plans untouched. Although the irksome Malfoy had returned some time after Hermione the previous night, he'd had less trouble rousing himself from bed.
So when he passed Hermione's room on the way to the Head Common Room, he was quite surprised to find Hermione still curled up in bed, looking ferociously determined to remain asleep, despite the fact that the sunlight streaming into the room almost made it fully lit.
Draco crept in and deftly took the alarm clock from its position, trying not to envision the bodily harm this might cost him. Then Malfoy stumbled down to the Great Hall, and gleefully devoured breakfast, all the while envisioning Hermione's face as she rushed in late to Binns' class- highlight of the lesson, he expected.
Wondering how much more time she had to sleep, Hermione peered at her alarm clock… or rather, where it ought to be.
When she realized it was missing, Hermione bolted awake. She wasted no time seething about Malfoy, who was the only possible perpetrator. She flung open her trunk, which sat at the foot of the bed, and threw on some robes. Then she rushed into the common room, grabbed her History of Magic book, and threw open the portrait door. She flew down the stairs until she got to the 4th floor- on which the History of Magic classroom was located.
Bursting into the classroom, sweaty and her breath coming in gasps, was generally something Hermione Granger would frown upon. Today, however, was a tremendous exception.
She pushed open the weighty oak door, fearing Professor Binns' reaction.
"Miss Granger?" the ghost drawled.
"I'm so sorry, Professor. It will not happen again." She was tempted to throw a threatening glare in Malfoy's direction, but he was turned away from her, dutifully facing the front, although Hermione could see him shaking with silent laughter.
"Very well. You've been an exceptional student up until now." Hermione felt herself blushing a bit, grateful at his forgiving reaction. "Turn in your essays atop that pile over there," the ghost gestured vaguely to his left, "and take your seat, Miss Granger."
Horror-struck, Hermione realized the essay would be just where she left it last night- sitting pristinely on top of the Heads' coffee table, in the Common Room. Where it would do her absolutely no good.
"Prof- professor, I forgot the essay! It's sitting on top of our coffee table, and if you'll allow me, I'll just run and-" Hermione struggled, speaking at top speed.
She eyed Malfoy's back, as it erupted in a silent fit of laughter once more.
"Miss Granger, I'm afraid the essay was due at the beginning of class today. If you don't have it now, I'm afraid I won't be able to accept it."
"Couldn't I just turn it in right at the end of class, Professor?"
"No, Miss Granger, you may not. Now please take your seat, take out some spare parchment for notes, and stop interrupting my class."
Hermione felt like crying. She was humiliated, and, worse, she would be receiving a zero on the essay she worked through the night perfecting.
Taking her seat, Hermione begrudgingly withdrew some spare parchment, a quill, and some ink.
As she tried to focus in on Professor Binns' lesson, she glanced down at her parchment, only to find an unfamiliar scrawl gracing it, with the simple message:
Very amusing, Granger.
She looked around the classroom actively, and everyone else seemed to be asleep. Except for Draco Malfoy, who was smirking at her from across the room.
Malfoy, if you had anything at all to do with this, you had better begin to fear for your life, and be prepared to lose a few body parts along the way.
Hermione wasn't entirely sure what sort of spell he'd put on her parchment, so she was glad when he read something off of his own parchment, then rolled his eyes at her. Dipping his quill in ink, he penned a reply:
Yet somehow, I'm not actually feeling too intimidated. Granger, your tiny little fists can't do much. In case you hadn't quite grasped that.
Outraged, Hermione shot him a death glare. Then she responded, writing frightfully quickly:
Perhaps my "little fists" won't do much, but when one of them is holding a wand, I wouldn't expect you to last long.
Malfoy smirked and laughed a bit at her, writing back:
No wands?
Hermione frowned down at that message, unsure of what it meant.
Excuse me?
Malfoy gave her a look like she was completely incompetent, and then explained:
No wands. I'll fight you.
Hermione shot him a completely disapproving look.
I will not "fight you."
Scared?
Hermione gawked at the page.
What if it were a non-violent fight?
Trying to discern what type of fight would be nonviolent, Malfoy gave her a confused glance. His face lit up in triumph, and he wrote back quickly:A tickle fight, you mean?
Hermione had to cover her mouth and pretend to cough in order to keep herself from erupting into a fit of laughter. Her, having a tickle fight with Malfoy, the idea was completely ludicrous and somewhat alarming.
No, Malfoy. Not a tickle fight. Let's arm wrestle.
Malfoy had a similar reaction to her response- he struggled to hide his own laughter. His reply was simple:
You're on, Granger.
The rest of class passed uneventfully, as did all of Binns' classes. At lunchtime, Hermione opted to skip the Great Hall, instead returning to her Common Room. Draco Malfoy did the same.
When Malfoy walked through the portrait hall, Hermione wasted no time in setting them up on opposite sides of their coffee table. They raised each of their right hands into position, and counted down.
"One-
Two-
THREE!"
And with that, they began to arm wrestle. Hermione's small arm muscles were bulging, while Malfoy looked quite content.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," said Hermione, who was quickly losing ground.
"No?" asked Malfoy, easily pushing her arm down.
Hermione, looking frustrated, rolled up her left sleeve. "Other arm," she announced, though she knew she had little hope with this one, either.
Draco obliged, and quickly pinned her arm down again.
Hermione frowned, crossing her arms.
"We can move on to that tickle fight, if you want," Draco suggested slyly. Hermione merely glared in return.
Sighing, Hermione asked resignedly, "May I please have my alarm clock back, by the way?"
"Did you beat me at arm wrestling?" Draco asked.
Hermione looked at him as though he were completely daft. "No," she answered, as though this were obvious.
"Then you can't have it back," replied Draco, flashing her an infuriating grin.
Hermione, enraged by this response, solicited, "How can I get it back, then?"
"Well, Granger dearest, you've got to beat me at something."
"Wizard chess," Hermione challenged.
Draco produced a board.
Not five minutes later, Hermione's king was being brutally destroyed by Draco's knight, and he was giving her that same triumphant smile.
"Have you got any cards?" asked Hermione.
"Never heard of them," Draco returned. "And besides, it's time for Potions. Before realizing was he was doing, Draco offered her a hand up. Hermione took it, just as confused. The two collected their belongings and headed silently off to Potions.
Upon returning from dinner, Hermione had another idea for how to "beat" Draco. When he returned shortly after, she posed her plan:
"Snowball fight," she said simply.
"No go," replied Draco. "No way to determine a winner."
Sighing, Hermione racked her brain again. "Alright, what about that tickle fight?"
Draco grinned up at her, "Knew you'd come around. Unfortunately, you've missed your chance."
Hermione let out an angry yelp, before sitting down on the couch beside him and staring into the flames, trying to concoct a new plan.
Turning to Draco a few minutes later, she asked a simple question: "What exactly constitutes 'beating' you?"
"Well…" began Malfoy, stroking an imaginary beard in thought, "I suppose that you would have to do something I couldn't top. Catch me off guard, maybe."
Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Not in the field of academia, Granger."
And then Hermione's eyes darkened again. She sat for the better part of the evening in front of that flame, trying to imagine something she could beat Malfoy at.
"Time for patrol duty," he informed her.
They both rose, and began to tour the castle.
Patrolling that night was fairly uneventful- a couple of students out of bed, sneaking back from the kitchens with their arms full of food. A general collection of couples from different houses sneaking a few late-night kisses. Run-ins with a couple of professors.
But it all gave Hermione an idea.
With patrol duty complete, Hermione and Draco headed back to their dorm. Draco was looking drawn, perhaps his late-night activities of the night before were catching up to him. He headed straight to his room when they arrived at their common room.
"Draco-" Hermione called, before he completely disappeared from view.
She was right on his heels, and as Draco turned around, she did something she never thought she'd do. Without thinking, she planted her lips on Draco Malfoy's.
Horror shot through her brain, but she suppressed it. After a moment, she felt Draco respond.
Satisfied, she pulled away. "Beat you."
Draco, his mouth agape, stared at her for a moment. He finally figured out what was going on and glared at her.
Stomping into his dorm, he retrieved her alarm clock. Thrusting it angrily into her hands, he seethed, "Here's your damn alarm, Granger."
He then proceeded to storm into his room and slam the door.
This left a very confused Hermione standing in the hallway, trying to puzzle out just what to make of his reaction.
She floated distractedly off to bed that night.
A few mornings later, Draco peeked into Hermione's room, only to find her still asleep. It was far past the time she normally awoke at, now that he'd returned her alarm clock.
Trying to decide what to do, he slowly approached her bed. Leaning over her, he pressed his lips gently to her forehead. It wasn't entirely intended to awaken her- it was more of an experiment. Unfortunately, it did awaken her, which left him with a bit of explaining to do.
"Time to wake up, Granger."
Hermione eyed him a little curiously, but nodded in her pacified state. Before she quite had a reign on her thoughts, she decided that Draco Malfoy certainly knew how to wake someone up.
So she told him so.
"Draco, 's a very good way to wake someone up," she said, slurring her words a bit with sleep.
For the rest of her seventh year, Hermione no longer had to worry so much about waking up. Draco Malfoy could be counted on in that department.
A/N: Kind of dissatisfied with that ending. The rest of the fic was acceptable, I hope. Well, please reviews, m'dears. Oh, and I'm sorry to ambush everyone with all this fluff. I'm sort of annoyed with myself. I think I'm going through Twilight-withdrawal.