A/N: Wow! A whole bunch of reviews right off the bat! Well, since you guys are so awesome, I'm going to try to match your awesomeness and write another chapter immediately! Even though I probably won't post this until like three days after I write this Author's Note, I'm going to do my hardest to try.

Disclaimer: I got a meningitis shot yesterday!! Ouch my arm hurts! (Does that make this mine? Nooo. Pity gets you NO WHERE!)

Chapter Six: Bedchamber Nightmares

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, may I speak to you two please?" asked a weathered looking Professor McGonagall. Malfoy, who had been walking about ten feet behind Hermione and the rest of the Golden Trio, paused in the middle of his conversation with Blaise Zambini and Hermione nodded, glancing back as if to search for his approval. Pansy Parkinson hissed at her.

"Of course Professor," she replied graciously. Malfoy nodded almost imperceptibly, and they walked off, Malfoy a little in front of Hermione this time, so she could admire him walking. Even injured, he was graceful.

Little did she know that was exactly what Malfoy had been doing when she was walking in front of him. This time, as she walked away, Ron was the one staring at Hermione while Harry was trying to talk to him.

"Ron, are you even listening?" he asked, nudging his arm.

"She looked really pretty today, don't you think?" Ron asked as a response. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, she looked so pretty," he said mockingly, flailing his arms around.

"She looked positively hot."

"Ok, that's where I draw the line."

Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall amid whispers. They seated themselves between Seamus and Ginny, who both immediately started talking about Quidditch. Hermione was still gone when the Sorting began, and she was still absent when the feast appeared. Ron dug into his food politely, startling everyone around him, who had braced themselves for a flurry of food.

In Professor McGonagall's office, Hermione and Malfoy sat beside each other while the Professor talked. Hermione was acutely aware that their arms were almost touching. She could feel heat waves crashing over her right forearm, and wondered what would happen if she moved an inch to the right. Her arm twitched a little in response.

Malfoy himself smirked when her arm twitched. He himself wanted to close the gap of air between their arms, but he, at least, had enough control to keep still.

"Ok, well this year we're planning on throwing balls," McGonagall began. Malfoy snorted, and the corners of Hermione's mouth twitched. "Oh, grow up," she snapped.

"The Halloween Ball, the Yule Ball, the Valentines Ball, and the Graduation Ball," she rattled off quickly, ticking them off of her fingers. "As Head Boy and Girl, it will be your responsibility to plan them with the help of the prefects. However, you two will have to do with first bit of planning on your own, because we want the ball to be a surprise. We will announce it in a week's time, but until then, please keep it quiet."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, nodding. Malfoy rolled his eyes at her and she nudged him.

"You two will, as I'm sure you know, be sharing a Tower, which includes two bedchambers, a connecting bathroom, a common room, and a small kitchen area. I must implore you that you two are role models in this school now. You must act civil in each other's company. No names," she finished, glaring at Malfoy.

He nodded once.

"Now," McGonagall looked around, then perched herself on the edge of her desk, peering at Malfoy intently. "May I see your stitches?" she asked.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at Hermione.

"She's part of the Order, Malfoy," she said. "I'm sure Lupin told her."

"I'm the only other person who knows," she assured Malfoy quickly. "Just so I can be sure you aren't hurt at school. Well, besides Dumbledore, but no one needed to tell him. He's just omniscient."

Malfoy lifted his shirt and McGonagall stared at his torso as though transfixed. She clicked her tongue. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I'm astounded you managed to survive that."

"Thank Granger, Professor."

"Yes well, you should too, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, back to business. "I think the feast is almost over, but I sent plenty of food up to your tower for you to eat. I shall see you two tomorrow during class."

And they took their leave, weaving through staircases and tapestries until they came across a painting of a small woman holding a vase of flowers. "Password?" she asked.

"Uh…we weren't given one," Hermione said wringing her hands.

"Silly girl, you get to choose one," she said.

"Draco is sexy!" Malfoy called out quickly. Hermione turned around and glared at him, raising an eyebrow and scoffing. The portrait nodded and swung forward. Malfoy chuckled at the blush rising on Hermione's face as she followed him into the dormitory.

She had to admit, she had grown accustomed to Malfoy's chambers in the Manor, and she was not disappointed. The couches were leather, just like the ones in Malfoy's room, the bookshelf was even bigger than his, and the fire looked positively inviting. The spiral staircase in the corner reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, and she suddenly remembered that she forgot to talk to anyone. Ron and Harry were probably worried sick.

She ran up the spiral staircase and into the room on the left. There was a scroll hanging from the doorknob. It was written in Dumbledore's friendly cursive.

"Dear Head Boy or Girl,

Feel free to tailor this room to your liking. Just think of what you want and it will appear. Don't think too much however. You can only change the room a certain amount of times before it stays that way, much like your face if you keep your eyes crossed for too long.

Well, pip pip, you have classes tomorrow.

Yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore"

Hermione grinned, then closed her eyes and thought hard. When she opened them, the walls were scarlet, the four poster was gold, and her trunk appeared at the foot of her bed. She laid on her bed and felt off.

Something wasn't right. She closed her eyes again and let her mind drift to the room she was most comfortable in. When she opened her eyes, she gasped.

The four poster was fitted in black silk. Silver and blue tapestries hung from the walls. A small couch appeared in the corner, with her trunk as a coffee table.

Her room looked just like Malfoy's. She quickly ran out of the bedroom, slammed the door behind her, and leaned against it, panting heavily. This was freaking her out! Malfoy stood at the other door, reading the scroll that was hanging from his doorknob.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just losing my mind, that's all."

Malfoy smirked. "Really?" she nodded. "Let's see your room, then," he said, closing the distance between him and her door in three long strides. She pressed herself against the door, as if that would keep him away.

"Come on, Granger, let's see."

"No!" she shook her head emphatically. "Do you ever respect people's privacy?" she asked.

He just stared at her. "Oh come on, surely you can come up with something better than that. Do you have my poster hanging on the wall?"

She blushed bright red.

"You do!" he chuckled.

"I do not!"

"Then let me see!" He reached around her and turned the knob. She had pressed herself so far against the door she tumbled into the room, successfully leaving the path clear for Malfoy.

"Wow. You take decorating ideas from the best," he said calmly. She just stared at his impassive profile.

"That's it?" she said. "No jokes, no making fun?"

He turned to her and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Are you comfortable in here or what?" he asked.

She just nodded a little.

"I figured it would be decorated like Weasley's room, that's all," his smirk grew.

"Oh get out!"

He laughed again and obliged, letting her slam the door behind him. She closed her eyes and imagined Ron's room. When she opened her eyes, she grimaced. The piles of stuff everywhere made her head pound. She quickly thought of Malfoy's room again and breathed a sigh of relief. The room did calm her now. Although sleeping in the bed she normally saw Malfoy in made her a little uncomfortable.

She showered, changed, and climbed into bed. She heard Malfoy turn on the water in the shower and tried to ignore it. But she stared at the ceiling until the water shut off, and even longer after that. She tried closing her eyes and shutting all thought out of her brain, she tried counting sheep, even though she thought that was rubbish. She tried reading. She just couldn't sleep in this bed. It wasn't going to happen.

She ambled over to the couch, almost tripping over her trunk in the process, and curled up on it, much like she used to do before. Immediately, she started drifting off to sleep. Until she heard a thump come from Malfoy's room.

She jumped up, wrapped a blanket around herself, and snuck into Malfoy's room from the connecting bathroom, careful not to make any noise, even though it didn't matter. Malfoy was a heavy sleeper.

He was having another nightmare, she could tell. This time, he had knocked something off of his nightstand. Hermione smiled as she looked around. The room was just like his in the Manor, and just like hers next door. She picked up the picture frame he had knocked to the ground and put it on the top of his trunk, out of his reach. It was a picture of his mother, with Mittens beside her. It had to have been taken when Malfoy was only a few years old, because Mittens' bandages on her hands were almost pristine white, and Narcissa Malfoy looked younger, much unlike the weary version of herself floating around the Manor now.

She hurried to his side and untangled him as much as she could from the silk sheets, placing her head on his lap like she had before. "Malfoy!" she said, slapping his face lightly. When he reached out, she caught his hand so he couldn't scratch her. But his other hand came up almost as fast, but he scratched her neck instead of her face. She sighed.

"Malfoy!"

He opened his eyes, and tried to suppress a sob. She smiled wearily down at him, and let go of his hand. But he wouldn't let go of her. He closed his eyes for a second to take a deep breath, then turned his face away from her so she couldn't see him cry.

"Malfoy? Can you tell me what the dream was about?" she asked. He didn't answer her. She snaked her arm around his shoulders and pulled him upright so they were sitting side by side against the headboard.

"Please."

He started speaking and she jumped. She hadn't expected him to say anything.

"I'm walking through a hallway in the Manor, dressed in the finest clothes I own, because the Dark Lord ordered it so. My father is calling my name, and my mother looks scared. We go into the ballroom, and the Dark Lord is sitting on his throne, as usual, and everyone is looking at me. Aunt Bella says she's proud of me, and my father claps me on the back.

"The Dark Lord asks me to step forward and hold out my arm. I refuse, and tell him I don't want the Mark. He crucios me, and I fall. I refuse to scream. So he grabs my mother and crucios her until she starts screaming. I try to get up and help her, but Bella holds me back. I'm calling for her, crying like a child, and my father is disgusted with me for embarrassing the Malfoy name.

"Malfoy's don't cry. Malfoy's are stone. Finally, my mother's screams stop. She's dead, lying on the floor, and no one cares. No one but me. And the Dark Lord stares into my eyes, and I can feel my soul dying inside. He asks my why I don't want the Mark if I completed my mission. And he shows me your dead body."

Hermione looked up quickly, her stomach plummeting. She didn't know when her hand had found Malfoy's or who had taken whose hand, but he squeezed it quickly.

"That's my mission. I'm supposed to kill you. And when I do, I get the Mark." She tried to let go of his hand, but he pulled her back down next to him. "But you saved my life, Granger. I could never kill you. And I won't. And I don't want the Mark. I've seen what happens to people after they get it. They go crazy." He took a deep, shuddering breath, loosening more tears behind his eyes. "I won't hurt you. Trust me."

She sobbed once, and Malfoy wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Come into my room," she said.

Malfoy had the shadow of a smirk on his face. "Why?"

"Because I can't sleep without you in there." She said, trying not to sound too freaky. "Please Malfoy. I have lessons tomorrow."

"Ok fine."

Ten minutes later, Hermione Granger was fast asleep on the comfortable couch she had grown accustomed to. Malfoy shook his head and waved his wand, transforming the couch into a bed.

"Crazy girl."

Hogwarts was in an uproar already. There were a flurry of rumors going around.

One said that Hermione Granger was actually a pureblood and Draco Malfoy was now betrothed to her.

Another was they just had lots of sex all the time and now couldn't be apart for more than a minute.

Another was Malfoy was trying to make Pansy Parkinson jealous by dating a Mudblood. Although that rumor was started by Pansy herself.

Another was Hermione was a part of the Dark side now.

Another was Malfoy was using Hermione to get to Harry Potter.

Another was Malfoy was using Hermione to make Ronald Weasley mad.

But no one had the thought that maybe Hermione and Draco just liked each other's company. Not that they would actually admit that out loud. No one thought that maybe Hermione and Draco were planning the Halloween ball. But Hermione and Draco kept it a huge secret. The only time they spoke of it was in their Tower or to Professor McGonagall.

The only time they had even spoken to McGonagall about it was to tell her the theme. "When Hell Freezes Over."

Hermione thought it was ingenious, since it was her idea. Malfoy secretly thought it was ingenious too, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Why can't it just be about hell? Why does there have to be ice brought into it?" he badgered her for the millionth time.

"Malfoy! Shut up!"

Malfoy chuckled, and Hermione just stuck her tongue out.

"Hermione, can I talk to you?"

"Sure, Ronald," she said, and left Malfoy sitting at a table in the library.

"What's up?" she asked. Ron crossed his arms over his chest, and Hermione knew what was coming.

"Oh, come on, Ronald. He's Head Boy! We're working on something very important," she put her hands on her hips and just glared at him.

"Do you even know what the rumors are going around school?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Surely you don't believe that rubbish! It is so far-fetched, I bet even the teachers laugh about it."

"Hermione, I don't trust this guy, and you don't either. I don't know what kind of SPELL he cast on you, but you hate him!"

"Of course I do, Ronald, but that doesn't change the fact that I have to work with him. Now will you calm down? This is getting ridiculous," she opened her arms, inviting him in for a hug.

He hugged her close and lifted her chin to kiss her. He ran his tongue around her bottom lip and poked it into her mouth, running it over her teeth and exploring her mouth hungrily. His hands that had been on her waist started inching up her shirt to her breasts. She pulled away and placed her hands on his chest.

He pulled her to him again, leaving her hands on his chest, this time his hands roaming down to fasten themselves into the back pockets of her jeans.

"Ron, stop."

"Come on, Hermione. Don't you love me?"

She blinked. "Of course I do."

He grabbed her hands and tugged. "Then let's go. Take the next step."

She frowned at him. "I'm…I'm not ready," she stammered, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Ron dropped her hand. "I thought you loved me," he said.

She lowered her eyes. "I…I do. Just…give me some time," she said.

When she looked up, he was walking away from her. She sighed heavily, and returned to the library, where Malfoy was waiting, undoubtedly to argue with her about the theme again.

Minerva McGonagall was afraid. Albus Dumbledore looked troubled. He was always calm, always collected. But when he summoned her to his office that evening, he looked preoccupied.

"Minerva, another Prophecy has come to my attention, and I thought I should share it with you," he said.

McGonagall was surprised. Albus never shared anything unless it was absolutely necessary.

"The final Horcrux cannot be destroyed by our young Mr. Potter."

"What?"

"There are two students that must come together, use their amazing intellect, and only together, when they are one, can they find and destroy the final Horcrux, leaving Voldemort mortal for Mr. Potter."

"Who is it?"

"They must not be informed yet."

"Albus!"

"It is crucial, Minerva. You must not tell them."

"Tell me!"

"It is young Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy."

A/N: I WIN!!!