The weekend had arrived. I slipped on a pair of track shorts, an oversized sweatshirt that possibly belonged to Harry, from the looks of the faded Scooby Doo decal on the front of it, and a pair of flip flops. I ventured out of my room, hastily putting my curls in a bun, acutely aware of the possibility that Malfoy might be hiding in a corner, just waiting for the optimal opportunity to lunge out and revenge last night.

However, when I stepped into the common room, there was no one in sight. All there was, was the early morning sunlight slanted through the windows, patterning stripes of light onto the maroon couches. There was a rush of relief; I did not want to face an irate Draco Malfoy. I made my way down the steps into the Great Hall, catching sight of Ron and Harry seated at their usual spots at the middle of the Gryffindor dining table. I took a seat next to Harry, and across from Ron.

"I told you she favors me," Harry said offhandedly to Ron, noting my seating choice. Ron rolled his eyes in return, and after a hurried "mornin'" to me in acknowledgement of my presence, immediately turned back to his breakfast, avoiding any further attempts of conversation. Harry, too, was engrossed in the Daily Prophet that had just been dropped onto his plate.

"Did you know that Rita Skeeter is going to be having a book signing appearance for her new autobiography?" Harry noted, moving the page over so that I could see the photo that accompanied the article. I was keenly observing the plastic wide smile on the blonde 'reporter's'- if that word could be used so loosely, face, as she waved back and forth on the page, when Professor McGonagall approached the table.

"Good Morning, Miss Granger," She acknowledged, continuing, "May I speak to you for a moment?" I looked up at her in confusion for a moment, but quickly got up and followed her out of the Great Hall.

"Is there a problem, Professor?" I was rather nervous. Had she found out about my almost-kiss with Malfoy last night? Or how about that tryst with Finnigan in the broom closet, last year… ?

Oh god. That was a bad one.

"No, no, there's no problem," she hurriedly corrected, "I just wanted to see how you and Malfoy are doing with the Prefect's patrolling schedule. I need it by Monday, you know," She said, raising an eyebrow.

I cursed inwardly, choosing a few other select phrases of Ron's favorites to run through my head. I had forgotten all about that, and my other Head Duties, in the excitement of the idea of my final year at Hogwarts. "Oh… of course, Professor!" I tried to cover up cheerily, but from the look of half amusement and half suspicion on her face, it seemed as if she wasn't fooled.

"Well, then, just to make sure Miss Granger, that I have that list in my hands by Monday. It's vitally important." She made a move to leave, but turned around after a sudden thought. "Also, I hope you've compiled a list of school-wide events and activities to propose to the Prefects meeting on Monday," She added.

"R-right, of course! We're merely tying up loose ends right now!" My stammering probably didn't help the validity of my argument. She smiled a little knowing half-smile in response, and nodded quickly. She turned and quickly walked off, as the clicking of her stocky heels against the marble floor matched the rhythmic pounding in my head.

- - - - -

"Malfoy! Malfoy!" I shouted, banging on the door to the boys' changing rooms. I had finally found out where the bugger had been all morning: practicing in the Quidditch pitch. After much fair bargaining with Pansy ("I'll take off fifty bloody house points if you don't tell me where the hell he is, Parkinson"), I had hurriedly made my way to the splintered wooden door, where questionable odors were emanating from.

There was a second of pause, and the door swung open, to reveal a shirtless and very toned Blaise Zabini. He was clad only in his uniform pants and padding. He unabashedly swung his gaze up and down my body, finally resting his fixed stare onto my chest.

"Eyes up, Zabini," I snapped. He looked up in acknowledgement, and smirked.

"I'd say the same would go for you," He shot back, as he had apparently noticed my gaze on his torso. To accompany the comment, he pursed his lips and air-kissed me, and winked when I shot him an appalled look in response.

"MALFOY! YOUR WIFE'S HERE!" He shouted, and turned without a last glance in my direction. Lucky for him, because he might've ended up infertile, had he stayed a second longer.

Malfoy came up to the doorway, putting a hand on the doorframe and leaning against it. He was also shirtless. And very good-looking. But I had to concentrate on the matters at hand.

"You called, love?" He raised an eyebrow.

I shot him a smothering look.

He had the audacity to smirk. "Honestly, Granger. You couldn't have waited 'til I got back to the common room? You really do want me that bad, yeah?"

"Shut. Up." I accentuated each syllable with a hard poke in his chest. "We need to set up the Prefect's patrolling schedule, and organize a list of possible school-wide functions to propose to the Prefects meeting on Monday," I prattled off, as he rubbed his chest, and gave me a 'spare me', sort of look.

He did not seem to share the same sort of urgency that I felt.

"Come on!" I tugged at his forearm. To my absolute surprise, he didn't move an inch.

"I don't have a shirt on, Granger," He said, with a trace of faint amusement in his voice.

"Well, put one on then! We're going to be working all day, and possibly part of tomorrow," I answered back, sharply.

"In order for me to do so, you'd have to let go of my arm first," He said lightly, never breaking my gaze.

And I did. Not before digging my nails slightly into his flesh, making him hiss in pain and mutter a sort of profanity at me.

"You got three minutes, love," I mocked to his retreating back.

- - - - -

We were both sitting on the common room floor, poring over my sheet of paper. I was sitting properly cross-legged, whereas Malfoy was sprawled in an undignified manner on the floor. He had propped his feet on the coffee table, and was looking at me from an upside-down position. We were arguing; but what else was new. Better that, than relive the steamy confrontation from the night before.

"I bloody refuse to be paired with MacMillan. I am not spending an hour every week to patrol the fifth and sixth floors with a stupid, squat, spineless, poof."

"You only don't like him because he's Hufflepuff."

"So? If I'm going to be patrolling the fourth and fifth floors in Peeves' territory, and having the damn ghost chuck things at my head, then I would prefer to do it with someone less idiotic."

"Well, you're going to have to patrol with a Hufflepuff."

"For God sakes, why? Can't we just pair two of their lot together, and call it a day?"

"No! Absolutely not! I have to patrol with you and Zabini on two separate occasions! Compared to you lot, Hufflepuffs are a walk in the park."

"That's rather insulting, Granger."

"Tell me that the next time you stare at my chest."

"That's rather insulting, Grang- Ouch! Hell! Was that even necessary?"

"You bloody asked for it. Now anyways, would you prefer Susan Bones or Lindsay Grisham?"

"…"

"You have the mentality of a five-year old. Stop pouting, for god sakes. Choose, or I'll choose for you."

"Bones. She's got a thing for me."

"Doesn't everyone."

"You know it, love."

"HERE. Look over the chart. Does it go over well?"

"You put Weasley and Patil, together? Good idea."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Friend's best interests at heart, yeah? The two will probably wake up the whole damn floor with their shagging."

"…"

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Fine. Padma will go with Lindsay, and Ron will go with you."

"Yeh, thought so- wait, what?"

"Good idea, love."

- - - - -

"Have any ideas for school-wide events this year?"

"I'm tired."

"Come on, Malfoy! If we finish this tonight, we'll have all of tomorrow for ourselves."

"What will you give me?"

"How about what I won't give you, if you cooperate."

"Sassy."

- - - - -

"How about a Halloween Masquerade Ball?"

"Cliché."

"Fine! Then you think of something, Malfoy."

"Quidditch."

"What about Quidditch?"

"Game."

"Playing against whom?"

"Everyone."

"Oh, wait! That's actually a good idea. We could set up four teams, with players from every house. The captains would choose their players, right? But they would have to choose players from different houses… And we could host it on a weekend. They could all play against each other, whereas the winning team could get, well, a lot of butterbeer or something like that. It would promote inter-house unity!"

"Exactly."

- - - - -

"I still think we should host a few dances."

"Mhm."

"Halloween, Valentine's Day, and definitely the graduation party for the Seventh Years, I'd say."

"Mhm."

"Also, I think you should cut off your dick and mount it to the wall as a semblance of your overwhelming indignity."

"Mhm."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Mhm."

- - - - -

"WAIT A MINUTE!"