"Why hurry out? It's Saturday," his velvety voice droned, and she could almost taste his mocking tone.

She gripped the handle tightly with her hand.

He laughed softly behind her. "You don't remember anything, do you?" he asked, but it wasn't a quesiton. She began to turn the knob silently, gritting her teeth.

"I could explain everything in detail," he smirked, "but then again, it would be a lot more fun for you to try and figure it out."

She could have said something biting back, but...what could she say? She turned the knob and opened the door, suddenly realizing that they were in the Room of Requirement. Whoever required this room needed nothing else but a bed, she thought miserably as she quickly walked out, ignoring Malfoy's malicious chuckles.

She stood, her back against the door of the Room of Requirement, her face red and breath uncontrollable. She managed to force a simple smile as a girl she knew passed by, but her heart was thumping like mad and she felt a bit nauseous. She fumbled for her wand and quickly fixed up her torn clothes.

"Hermione?"

She sharply turned at the familiar voice; it was Harry, in his unmistakable jet-black hair and glasses.

"Where were you? We were looking for you everywhere."

"Um..." She was at loss of what to say. Her eyes nervously followed Harry's curious gaze until she realized she was leaning against the door of the Room of Requirement.

He cocked his head. "You were in there?"

"Er..."

She quickly said a prayer to God, or whoever was up there, that Draco Malfoy does not suddenly decide to come out that door, too.

"Ah," Harry suddenly said, as if realizing something for the first time. He grinned mischievously and lowered his voice to a whisper. "After the party? Thought that was your room?"

A look of pure horror dawned upon Hermione's face. "The party. I remember that."

And she did: there had been a party, just for the seventh years. Kind of welcome-back-to-school kind of a party, and a secret one somewhere beneath the castle grounds that Fred and George Weasley had somehow figured out. There had been drinks, passed out even to those who were not yet seventeen. And she did remember drinking, at the urge of some of the classmates. And...not much else.

"I didn't think you'd drink," said Harry, chuckling. "But you sure did! Ron passed out, too, and by the time I was done helping him off the floor, you were gone!"

"I was?" she said in whisper.

Harry arched his brow. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Nope."

"Well, let's see how well you managed to recreate your room," said Harry gleefully, reaching for the doorknob behind her.

"Wait, no-"

Harry never got to open that door. It opened from the inside, by the shirtless Draco Malfoy himself. He was in his jeans, but had not bothered to put on a shirt, which he held in his hand. Harry fell back in a shocked gasp, and Hermione let out a small cry of distress. Malfoy rolled his eyes a bit and smirked at Harry.

What are you doing here, Potter?" he droned.

"The same I'd like to ask you, Malfoy," growled Harry, instinctively taking out his wand. He shot a side glance at Hermione, asking her what was going on, but she was staring at her shoes with tearful eyes.

"As much as I'd like to elaborate, I'm not sure if the mudblood here would want me to," Malfoy replied with a smirk, not even flinching as Harry's wand shot up to his eye level at the word 'mudblood'. "But of course, when did I care what she cared for?"

"Watch your mouth, ferret," growled Harry.

"I would watch yours," said Malfoy coldly. "Or, better, watch where your filthy mudblood friend decides to throw her drunken body at."

Then, it all happened too quickly. Instead of hexing Malfoy as he intended, Harry threw a jab with his other hand right at the Slytherin's face, who fell to the floor back into the room.

Hermione was inconsolable. Her whole body was shaking at Malfoy's malicious words, and she felt sick.

Draco Malfoy grabbed his aching jaw and looked up at the two, looking pissed-off but not completely humiliated. "You will pay for this."

"Oh, will I?" Harry shouted sarcastically. "And leave Hermione alone, you bastard." And he grabbed her by her wrist and practically dragged her off to the Gryffindor Tower.

Neither said a word until they arrived. Harry angrily muttered the password to the fat lady, who seemed annoyed to be awaken from her nap. Only after they were safely inside Harry let go of Hermione's wrist. She sat down on one of the sofas, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

He looked as if he was waiting for her to explain something, but there was a long silence. Then it seemed to finally dawn on him that girls probably didn't like matters like this being blown up or talked about, especially by a male friend. He sat down. "It's your own decision if you want to tell Dumbledore, or go hex him, tell the authorities-"

"-Harry, it's just that...I have this gut feeling that I wasn't really...that nothing happened last night."

Harry stared at her skeptically.

Hermione sighed, her face red. "I know, Harry. Let's just...let me figure out what happened first. Please? Don't tell anyone?"

"...fine," said Harry reluctantly.

"Not Ron, not Ginny?"

"I said fine." He sounded a bit grumpy. "But if you don't figure out what happened soon enough, I'm going and telling Dumbledore what that, that ferret, did to you. And you," he pointed his finger at his friend, "you stay away from Malfoy."

"I do have to figure out what happened," said Hermione patiently.

"This is not some type of research project, Hermione!" cried Harry, exasperated.

Hermione rubbed her temples. It was just that she didn't feel anything. Of course, the memory bit could have been easily modified, but then again why would have Malfoy modified her memory if she was to wake up next to him? Something told her nothing had happened, that this was just another one of his nasty pranks. But then...why would he pull such a prank? Wouldn't it have been a better laugh for him if she had woken up next to Crabbe or Goyle? Somehow, that made her even shudder more. At least Malfoy was kind of good looking. He really had looked gorgeous that morning, sleeping on that white bed...

Draco casually made his way back to the Slytherin dungeons. He wondered how Blaise was doing. It had been a rather...extreme measure to make Granger think she slept with him (she better feel honored), but it got the job done; he knew she would be flushed whenever she saw him, and he could easily play with those feelings like a hand of cards. And also, it had the effect of angering Potter, and possibly even Weasel. He wondered why he hadn't done this before. As he strolled, the conversation of two nights ago played in his head, and he smiled a wicked grin...

Pansy stormed off. Blaise stared at his friend with an amused smile.

"That was rather nicely done, Draco."

"Thank you," droned Draco lazily. "She was getting rather boring, really."

Blaise nodded approvingly. "All Slytherin girls have been rather boring lately. Not...difficult, at all."

"No girl is difficult," said Draco matter-of-factly.

Crabbe and Goyle stared at Draco admiringly. Clearly they didn't think so. And, surprisingly enough, Blaise was not really convinced.

"Some girls would be difficult. Just because some girls would throw themselves at your feet, it doesn't mean all girls will."

Draco sighed and clicked his tongue. "No girl is difficult," he repeated.

Blaise's eyes flashed with a mischief which Draco did not miss.

"What are you thinking, Zabini?"

Blaise leaned back. "Nothing, really. I just don't think you can win over any girl."

"I could if I tried," said Draco.

"No, you couldn't."

Draco arched a brow.

"As much as you would hate to date, say, Ginny Weasley, she would never want to date you," Blaise explained.

"I already told you. If I wanted the filthy Weaslette, I could have her."

Blaise was not to be convinced just yet. "How about Granger?"

"Granger, too," Draco said automatically.

This time, Crabbe snorted. Draco shot him a glare and Goyle punched his burly friend in the back, but the Slytherin prince did not miss the silly grin on Goyle's face.

"What are you two getting at?" spat Draco menacingly. "You two honestly think that Granger won't want me if I tried?"

"Of course not, Draco," said Goyle hurriedly in his stupid voice.

"It's just...she's Granger, and after how you were with her..." Crabbe trailed off after another one of Draco's icy glares.

"They do have a point, Draco," Blaise said, as he was never to stoop for his friend as much as he respected him, "you weren't exactly civil to her."

"That can change," Draco said with a shrug.

"What are you getting at?" grinned Blaise. But it seemed as if he knew exactly where this was going.

"What are you talking about?" asked Draco.

Blaise leaned back again and grinned. "I suppose it won't hurt to have some fun now that you're free of Parkinson's noisy chit-chats."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No."

"Yes."

"I don't want to waste my energy on that mudblood, never."

"Sounds like you're scared," Blaise whispered. Crabbe and Goyle both snorted.

Draco's jaw was clenched. "Scared?"

"Yes. That Draco Malfoy could ever fail to get a girl." Blaise was clearly enjoying all of this.

"As I told you, I could get Granger if I wanted to-"

"-then prove it."

There was a bit of silence.

"Fine," Draco said at last. A smirk creeped up on his lips. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to play with her a bit."

"And to make it fair," said Blaise, grinning, "I will try Ginny Weasley."

"Oh, ho, ho," laughed Draco, amused. "You do fancy the blood traitor!"

"I told you, just because I think she's hot, it does not mean I fancy her," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

"Well..." Draco grinned. "Likewise."