So it looks like I definitely have a fetish for the whole 'Damsel in Distress' theme, and unfortunately Hermione is the victim of circumstance. Thankfully she has two attentive Slytherin Princes to save here though!

Here's a second drabble! Again, University is over for the year and I'm getting lazy with my grammar so please try your best to overlook any errors I may make. Like I said, I'm lazy, it's my summer, I'm just leisurely throwing down words : )

Rated M once again just in case and for legal purposes I have absolutely NO claim to the Harry Potter franchise.

1-2-3

A pretty pink flush staining her cheeks, Hermione laughed, hands clutching the broom tightly beneath her as she watched her two friends zoom past her once again at a simply delirious speed. The day had begun normal enough, with Hermione silently slipping out of the prefects dorms and allowing her two entwined lovers to remain asleep. Just how she managed to slither through their twisted tangle of limbs without waking them was beyond her; however, it gave her a silent thrill each time knowing that she was able to best her domineering lovers who would rather her stay confined to their bed every day.

Tossing back her rebellious hair in an agitated manner, Hermione gazed on fondly at her fellow Gryffindor companions as they once again lapped the quiditch pitch in a frenzied haze – both determined to be the last one airborne.

"Getting tired yet Weasley!"

"Never Harry! You may have the firebolt but I've got the skill!"

Grinning at their competitive antics, Hermione watched in awe as they continued on at an even faster speed and felt a surge of guilt wash over her.

They still didn't know.

It wasn't as if Hermione had gone public with her very unorthodox relationship with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, however keeping such a secret from her two best companions was beginning to weigh down upon her.

"You know we can't let her tell!" Draco hissed silently to Blaise, unaware of another set of ears overhearing their conversation. "I mean I know those idiots are her best friends but do you actually think that they would allow this? They likely wouldn't have a problem with you Blaise, but me? I'm the self righteous prick who made enemies with Pothead on the first day and after everything I've put both them and 'Mione through? No...I love Hermione too much. Those bastards would probably make her choose between them or us and that scares me Blaise...it really does..."

Covering her mouth with a slender hand, Hermione slunked further away from the bathroom door, ignoring Blaise's muffled response as he attempted to soothe his fair haired lover. As much as Hermione longed to reveal her secret life to Harry and Ron, her lover had a point. Harry saw Draco as a monster and no better than your average death eater – Ron was very much the same. The fact that Draco and Blaise accepted them as her friends and did little to put strain on their relationship was a godsend, and while Hermione appreciated their graciousness, she doubted that Harry and Ron would reciprocate...

So caught up in her thoughts regarding her lovers and best mates, Hermione had failed to notice the wayward bludger until it was too late. Unknown to Hermione, the Slytherin quiditch team had arrived early for their practice. While most of the team was still in the dressing rooms, a few eager second years had already assembled on the pitch and had begun releasing various equipment onto the pitch, including the bludgers. Releasing a strangled yelp as the bludger cracked against her knee, Hermione's vision swam as she saw stars. Falling from her broom on impact, Hermione vaguely thought to grab her wand, to call for Harry, to do something, but before she could even open her mouth, she collided roughly with the ground.

"Hermione! Oh god! Hermione!" frantic, Harry touched down not milliseconds after her fall, cursing himself for not having kept a better eye on her. "Hermione?" turning her head, Harry gently patted her face, noting her laboured breathing as she had evidently been winded from her fall. Eyes sweeping down to her knee where the skin had burst and blood had begun to seep through her jeans, Harry's eyes widened.

"Oi Pothead what did we tell you about practicing on our-Mione!" Stopping dead in his tracks as his stormy eyes locked onto Hermione's slumped form, the Slytherin quiditch captain felt his icy heart clench painfully. So caught up in his inner turmoil, Draco neglected to realize he had used his affectionate nickname for Hermione in lieu of the usual 'Granger' and failed to notice Harry and Ron's sceptical gazes. "What the hell Potter!" he snarled, brushing past Ron and shoving Harry aside to gaze worriedly at his disheveled lover. "What in Merlin's Beard happened!"

Surprised at Draco's seemingly genuine concern for Hermione, Harry and Ron exchanged glances before resuming their own concerned states for her their friend. "What happened," Harry begun to explain, pointing wildly at Draco's quiditch team, "Was that your team released the quaffles and bludgers as soon as they arrived on the pitch without clearing out the rest of us who were using it for leisure!" Harry snapped.

"Yeah and a bludger just hit Hermione! Out of nowhere! As hard as we tried we couldn't get to her in time!" Ron shouted, sending a glare towards the Slytherin second years who stood sheepishly by the side of the pitch.

"My Slytherins' fault was it?" Draco asked softly, eyes glinting dangerously as he hoisted Hermione's groaning form up into his arms, wary of her battered knee. "Gentlemen," he addressed Harry and Ron softly, "How fucking high up in the air was she?" Noting their clueless expressions, Draco snarled once more, the feral beast within him raging as he eyed the two Gryffindorks. "And how many times has Hermione actually been on a broom!" he demanded, once again met with equally unsure gazes. "If you two really cared about her, you would have given her a fucking Shooting Star to practice! Not tossed her on a Comet!" He growled, abruptly turning on his heel. Instantly remembering his cold hearted facade as he began to stride away from the two, Draco turned around. "You better not hope that this isn't serious Potter, I don't want this little mudblood giving Slytherin quiditch any trouble because of this," he shouted, cringing when he used the derogatory term and glad that Hermione was unconscious. "And you!" he snarled, looking back at his team, "I want twenty laps around the pitch for carelessness, even if she is a dirty Gryffindor we still need to play the game with integrity!" he bellowed before turning once more and sauntering towards the castle. Looking down at Hermione's bruised form, he grimaced, speeding up his pace.

You are in such trouble princess...

1-2-3

"What do you mean she wasn't on a Shooting Star! I've never actually seen her fly! Are those two trying to get her killed?" Blaise queried, his silky voice laced with venom. "I can't believe this...I just can't believe this," he muttered, quickly reverting to his native tongue as he murmured something fiery under his breath in Italian, brushing back Hermione's hair to gingerly brush the bruise on her cheek. Grimacing, Hermione blearily opened her eyes, quickly regretting the decision as twin sets of furious optics greeted her gaze.

"Nice of you to finally join us Bella," Blaise murmured sarcastically, grasping her hand and playing with her fingers nervously. "You have been sleeping for over three days," he informed her loftily, anger steadily rolling through his handsome frame.

"What were you thinking!?" Draco finished for him, his own eyes holding a hint of relief as he strode forward, gingerly laying beside her on the small hospital bed. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb Ass thought it was a good idea to pop you on a Comet instead of a Shooting Star and you agreed to it?" he questioned tauntingly, entwining his long fingers in her hair as Blaise proceeded to pull a chair closer to the bed, his lips finding the sensitive places on Hermione's neck as he began to liberally pepper it with kisses.

"I...I," stammering to find a good explanation, which was rather difficult when a pair of Italian lips were steadily teasing her nerves, Hermione took a deep gulp. "I wanted to be able to be like you," she whispered, innocently lifting her eyes to meet Draco's skeptical face. "Children use Shooting Stars Draco...I...I just wanted to experience what you do each time you soar around the pitch. Feel like I'm good at something other than books-"

"-Hermione," Draco interrupted smoothly, pressing a finger to her slightly chapped lips, "Shut up." Tilting her head back, Draco captured her lips in a possessive kiss, his tongue gaining dominance over her own as he intensified the kiss, only breaking it when he was certain that they both needed air.

Gasping for breath, Hermione's back arched as Blaise's teasing fingers slipped lower beneath her hospital gown to trace loving patterns against her flat stomach. "I'm really sorry!" She squeaked, noting that her lovers were not convinced.

"Hermione," Blaise purred, crawling his fingers up her body until their reached her neck, gingerly fingering her collar bones, "You don't know what sorry is." Smiling wickedly, he proceeded to once again attack her neck with gentle love bites.

"Indeed," Draco smirked, leaning down to brush her earlobe with his lips. "The only time you'll ever be on a broom again is with me behind you," he promised, scraping his tongue along the shell of her ear. "And hopefully you enjoying your last meander out of our bed this morning princess, because if you think we're ever letting you out of our sight again you're sorely mistaken."