A/N: Without much further ado, I give you the next chapter. It's longer than the last ones, and I hope you like it! Thank you for your support!
Beta love to MrBenzedrine, who so patiently deals with me, even if I'm not at my nicest!
"Spill."
"Before we can start, and you're going to be very happy at this, there are some rules, or rather tasks for you to fulfill." Hermione assumed he had put some thought in this, because he spoke like he had a plan.
"Slytherins get what they want. That's our rule number one."
"I feel like I signed up for a Slytherin exchange, or worse, adoption program," Hermione commented, half-serious.
"You wish, but no. For you to have fun like a Slytherin, you have to act like one. Though, I doubt you can, given your background." Even leaning against the kitchen counter, coffee in hand and clad in sweatpants (that hung low enough to reveal the dark green waistband of his boxers) and a loose Slytherin Quidditch t-shirt, Draco managed to exude aristocratic arrogance and sexiness in heaps. Enough of both, at least, to make her blood pressure rise a fraction.
She narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a threatening way. "Background? If you insult my blood status again, I'm going to hex you to next week - sans your balls."
"Easy, spitfire. I merely insulted your House," he said, chuckling, though pressing his legs a bit closer together. "The rule is very functional, as you will see. Let's say you want this weekend free of your duties because you've got plans for a night out."
"But I don't have plans."
Draco tsked. "If you are a good student and follow the rules I set, you are going to have some. I trust you to get the weekend off somehow."
As someone who never skipped her duties or procrastinated, this was really a challenge for her. "But how?"
"I have seen so many Slytherin girls using their special assets to get what they want. You could do that, too." Draco grinned at her.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
His grin widened, and he stepped closer to her. "Probably. All I say is it's no shame when you use your feminine wiles from time to time. A bit of flirting hurts no one. I do it quite often." He stopped mere inches in front of her so she could smell his cologne now. Hermione had to tilt her face up to look into his eyes - grave mistake when she desperately willed away the instant effect he had on her. It was like stepping into silver quicksand. - You want out, but this mass doesn't let you, drags you deeper in what your instinct says is dangerous.
The wizard's hand reached up to her face, and her first impulse was to back away. But then, he gently tucked an errant curl behind her left ear, lightly scraping her cheek with his fingers in the process. All without interrupting the eye contact. "And I don't think it's going to be problematic for you, pretty girl. Will you try it?"
He winked at her, and that freed her from the undoubtedly hormone-induced stupor. The palms of her hands flat on his Quidditch-toned (grumble) chest, she pushed him away from her.
"You're trying to sugarcoat me!" And she couldn't believe she was so easy to play!
"It worked, didn't it?" And with a very smug expression on his handsome face, he turned on his heels and disappeared into his room.
Hermione decided to go with Draco's plans for her because of different reasons: for one, she wanted to prove to him that she could do anything if she wanted. Second, she knew he was right in all his observations concerning her and provided her an outlet. And, lastly, the witch doubted he would do her any real harm - even if he probably had his own intentions.
That was why, when she entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, she didn't take her usual route to sit with Harry and Ron (and Ginny...and Lavender…). Instead, she stopped behind Dean and casually placed her hands on his shoulders. The wizard, upon having his shoulders squeezed lightly in ways of greeting, was obviously surprised that it was Hermione. She treated Harry and Ron like that regularly, but she wasn't so touchy-feely with him or Seamus, who sat on the other side of the table. With a cheerful, "Hi boys!" she settled down next to Dean and poured herself a glass of water.
"Hey, Hermione. How are you?" Seamus asked with his lovely Irish accent.
Alright, she wanted to try. 'Take what you want. And you want the weekend off,' she repeated in her head. She nestled with the top buttons of her white blouse as if checking that they were secured - of course, they were - wanting to represent a regular Slytherin, not...Pansy. The boys' attention thus focusing on the general area of her chest, she stretched languidly, rubbing her back.
"All in all, I'm fine. But...those hours in the library, bent over a table...my back hurts like Hell. I so want to take a long, relaxing, hot bath. But there's no time, you know?" Dean and Seamus blinked owlishly, eyes transfixed on her breasts as if suddenly realizing she had some. "I wish I could at least have one on Saturday, but I'm on patrol duty that night…" she thoughtfully trailed off. Seamus absent-mindedly poured himself some pumpkin juice - on his dish. Hermione felt both disgusted and amused at the sight. Dean, gulping loudly, jumped in.
"If you want to, I-I could take that shift. You should take care of yourself - and your body. We don't want our brilliant Head Girl to collapse, right?" He smiled at her, honest and open, and she almost felt bad to manipulate him like that. But, then again, she really wanted to take care of herself for once. And that meant delegating some tasks and doing whatever Draco had planned.
Hermione tousled his hair while getting up from the bench, giving him the look of a petted dog. "You're such a good friend, Dean. Thanks for helping me." She briefly thought about adding a Slytherin-y, 'I'll make sure to reward you.' But that would have been too much. Glancing over to the Slytherin table, she spotted Draco between Blaise and Theo, soundlessly clapping his hands and applauding her to following his instructions.
"Oh, Mister Weasley, that still doesn't look remotely like a proper Protego Maxima," Professor Dawlish chastised Ron while checking on their work in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Miss Granger, would you mind helping?"
"Yes," Hermione stated as firmly as she could muster.
Dawlish hadn't even registered the answer. "Fine, then come over here-"
"I said I do mind." The clocks stopped ticking, her classmates stop breathing, and Hermione half-expected a headline in the Daily Prophet about this, 'From Teacher's Pet to Rebellious Amazon - Hermione Granger talks back to a teacher.' Her insides squirmed as if digesting something sour. Well, it was something sour for her. "I won't help him."
"And what, pray tell, Miss Granger, qualified you to decide so?" The class was deadly silent. Draco, practising next to her, whispered, "It's alright, consider this ticked off. You may save him before your moral compass explodes."
But she didn't do things halfway, and so she straightened her back and explained, "Experience, Professor. Imagine this would happen in a real duel. No one would be there to help him. I believe he's going to master this all on his own."
Dawlish, it seemed, decided to consider them as the adults they were and turned back to Ron. "Mister Weasley, Miss Granger appears to have more faith in your abilities than me. Better not disappoint her." With that, the professor focused his attention to Justin, who, if you asked Hermione, was more lenient to take someone's eye out than throw up a stable shield.
Her redheaded friend still stood there with his mouth open, processing what had happened. Somehow, he was so cute that Hermione wanted to snap a photo of it. But cuddling wasn't the adequate tactic here. "Don't give me that look, Ronald! Do you want to become an Auror or not? Then practise your arse off! I can't come to your rescue every time you're too lazy to read the instructions!"
Ron grinned, went over to her, and hugged her firmly.
"What-" she muttered, confused. Shouldn't he be angry at her?
"Let me. I'm just glad you have some of your fire back," he spoke and returned to his task immediately. Hermione frowned. So she had followed Draco's second challenge 'Deny a professor if you have the opportunity'. But that shouldn't feel so good, should it?
"Where are we going?" Their footsteps echoed through the nightly silence of the dimly lit hallways of the castle.
"You will see."
"What are we going to do there?"
"Whatever we are going to do."
"When are going to leave again?"
"When we're finished."
"Why can't we do it in the daylight?"
"Merlin, Granger!" Finally, Draco cracked under her incessant nagging. Mission accomplished. "Have you ever considered Snape was absolutely right to call you an insufferable know-it-all?" he asked rhetorically, because, yes, Hermione knew her personality could be quite challenging for others. "Can't you simply lean back and go with whatever it is we're going to do? It's not as if I plan to kidnap you and test my performance in the Unforgivables at you!"
"You know, there was a time where you would have done that. And you would have been forced to do so." All playfulness was gone from Draco's behaviour at Hermione's so brutally true comment.
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, finding sudden interest in his shoes. "I won't contradict you here. I apologize for my insensitivity."
She nodded curtly, grateful for his maturity, but not wanting to dwell on the past any longer, as it haunted her enough.
"Soooo...where are we going?" she voiced, her tone deliberately light. Draco rolled his eyes, but his lips curled upward.
"You're worse than niffler on a gold trace! 'Doing something not entirely forbidden, not not exactly allowed,' is tonight's motto. Interested?" He wriggled his eyebrows.
"Forget it, Malfoy, I'm not partaking in an orgy with your snake and its friends," Hermione quipped, though she didn't feel the need to express that a one-on-one with his snake wasn't entirely in the realms of the impossible for her.
Draco laughed, "We're not there - yet. Such an event would need a lot more preparation. Anyway, we're making a trip to the kitchens and are going help ourselves to our favourite desserts." The brunette was almost disappointed at the tameness of the plan, but that was quickly scattered at the his boyish grin. Unfair.
"What are you going to get?" he wanted to know.
Hermione answered truthfully, "Oh, I don't know. I'm not so much into sweets."
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, scandalized. "I haven't told you to lie like a Slytherin!"
"I didn't lie! My parents are dentists, so all the sweets in my childhood were sugar-free. When I arrived at Hogwarts, I tried the sugary versions, but I don't enjoy them. Though, I like fruits!"
"Not much into sweets...unbelievable," the blond mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "But fruits...I think I can work with that!" Hermione didn't know if she should be anxious or excited at the mischievous undertone.
Five minutes later, Draco placed a bowl filled with liquid chocolate between the witch and himself. A bowl of strawberries followed. The aroma of the ripe, sweet fruits filled her nose and watered her mouth. She reached out to take one, but a slap on her hand interrupted her.
"No. I don't let you have simple, Gryffindor-y fruits. You have to cover them with delicious darkness." Merlin, she knew he was talking about dessert, but still, his words led to a certain dampness in her knickers. "Here, let me show you." He picked a strawberry and dipped it into the chocolate. After a bit of spinning it, the fruit was covered almost wholly. Captivated, Hermione followed his movements with her eyes, observed how Draco engulfed it with his sinful lips, the tip of his tongue showing for a second. The strawberry disappeared into his mouth, and her gaze was still fixated on him when he chewed and then swallowed. Hell, Hermione wanted to be that strawberry, covered with cavity causing substances or not.
"It's your turn." Draco dived into the bowl again and dipped another fruit. His elbow on the table, he offered it to her, his eyes never leaving hers. She leaned towards him, fully intending to play her biblic part and accept the forbidden fruit the snake had talked her into. She parted her lips, anticipating the sweet treat-
- And then felt something wet at her nose. Irritated, she broke the unholy eye contact and attempted to look at her nose. That must have given her quite the dumb expression because Draco broke out in barking sound was so distracting that it took her at least three seconds to realize what had happened: she had chocolate dripping from her nose and the fruit was still in his hand. Draco must have missed her mouth while their eyes were locked.
"Oh, you! Stop laughing! Good thing you're playing Seeker and not Chaser, as you miss the loop from the smallest distance!" She threw a strawberry at him, and, to her own surprise, it landed directly between his eyes.
Draco squinted, and stood up from his stool. "Revenge is a dish best served with strawberries!" he shouted, and a moment later, one of the fruits collided with her chest.
She laughed, but tried to sound menacing when she hauled one at him, "Your new hair colour is going to be strawberry blond, mister!" She ducked under the table. When nothing happened but silence, the witch carefully peeked over the top. No Draco.
"Awww, is the big bad Slytherin hiding?"
"No." A voice behind her reasoned, and Hermione turned with a start to find the blond standing directly behind her. "Waiting, so I can strike!" From nowhere, he produced the chocolate bowl - and emptied it over her head. Hermione squealed, the warm substance covering her hair and face, trickling down on her shirt. He grinned triumphantly, taking in her disheveled appearance. "Ha! I didn't miss this time! What do you have to say now, witch?"
Laughter bubbling up in her chest, Hermione brought forth, "That we Gryffindors are terribly touchy-feely!" Before he could register what she had said, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly and distributing the sticky brown substance equally between them. While she expected him to push her away, the wizard snickered and hugged her back. She wanted to pause for a bit here, relishing the embrace, but the sneaky git had other plans: his fingers scurried under her blouse and started tickling her sides. So, instead of enjoying his hands-on approach, she giggled helplessly.
"Please, tell me I had one whisky too much and merely having hallucinations!" A strict voice resonated through the kitchens. Draco and Hermione jumped apart as if electrocuted and were met with Headmistress McGonagall's incredulous glare.
"We, uhm…"
"You see, there's…" The young adults spoke at the same time, failing miserably at a reasonable explanation.
The impressive witch sighed. "After all those hard times you had, I think you deserve to be young and foolish sometimes, as long as it's not too heavy. Let's put this away as 'unconventional promotion of house unity,' yes?" Her expression softened; still she managed to condemn their behaviour with a stern look over the rim of her glasses. "You better clean this mess up now." With that, McGonagall turned on her heels and left them alone with chocolate and strawberries covering every surface in a few meters diameter, including themselves.
More sober, but with a remaining giddiness, the two of them scourgified the chaos. When they were almost finished, Hermione spoke up, "Thank you. I had more fun than I'd like to admit tonight." And she really meant it that way.
Another knicker-dampening smirk. "Well, I should offer your my congratulations, then; you've mastered all three challenges in stride." He pocketed his wand and winked at her. "We're going out on Saturday. Doll yourself up if you can." He was challenging her again, that much was clear.
And she enjoyed it.
