Draco saw Hermione fall, but struggled to get up from his desk, as he was feeling rather spaced out himself. He took a step towards her, but the classroom tilted sideways, and he slumped back in his chair, breathing hard and feeling nauseous.

Various thoughts fought for supremacy in his head:

I've got to get to her.

I've got to do something.

What the fuck was that interfering old bastard thinking?

Blaise made his way through the throng of gawkers rushing to Hermione and crouched down next to Draco. 'You all right, mate?' he asked doubtfully.

Draco gulped in some more air and closed his eyes. 'Yeah. Think I got up too fast and got light-headed.'

Blaise knew he was being fed a load of tripe, but just replied 'If you're sure,' and stood back up.

Meanwhile, Ron narrowly beat Harry in the race to get to Hermione, but his first aid skills were only limited to expleting 'Bloody hell!' over and over again and gently slapping Hermione's face, so he wasn't much help until Parvati elbowed him out of the way and checked Hermione's pulse.

'She's fainted,' she reported to the assembled company. 'She'll come around, but I think she should go to the Hospital Wing, where she'll be more comfortable.'

Professor Clarence, concern scribbled all over her face, immediately agreed and levitated Hermione's body.

'Uh, Professor…' called Harry.

'Not now, dear,' she responded, distracted.

'Malfoy doesn't look too good, either. I think he should go to Madam Pomfrey's, too.'

'Look, Potter,' Draco snarled, but stopped when he saw Harry's face.

A look passed between them.

'Uh, yeah. Come to think of it, I don't feel too well.' He hauled himself out of his chair, weaving a bit and swallowing back some bile. Blaise steadied him.

'Goodness, you don't look it either,' the Professor clucked sympathetically. 'How odd that two students immediately fall ill just like that! Oh well, come along, Mr Malfoy. Mr Zabini, can you give him a hand? Mr Potter, you're in charge until I get back. No, Mr Weasley, you cannot come with us!'


Hermione's consciousness returned a few minutes later, but she was initially nonplussed to discover that she was staring at the Hospital Wing's ceiling.

Then she remembered what happened.

She curled into a ball and moaned.

''Mione?' It sounded like Draco's voice; but scratchy, almost panicky. She scoffed to herself. Malfoys don't panic. They pay people to panic for them.

Cool, slender fingers brushed her cheek, like Draco does when she's falling asleep in his arms. Instinctively, she turned and reached her arms out. Two hands caught hers; two lips kissed them and one low, intense voice said 'It'll be okay, love.'

A polite cough sounded from another direction.

As if someone had jabbed Draco in his delicate parts with an electric cattle prod, he leapt up and stumbled backwards, making up some crap about hearing a sound and checking Granger wasn't choking on her forked tongue.

'Pft,' said Madam Pomfrey and waved her hand airily. 'The Hospital Wing is the keeper of a great many secrets. No-one else is currently admitted, and whatever I see or hear is a matter of patient confidentiality. Besides,' Madam Pomfrey leaned forward confidentially, 'I'm glad you two buried the hatchet. You make quite the striking couple.'

'Oh.' Draco was at a loss for words. 'Uh, thank you.'

'How do you feel, anyway?' she asked.

'Okay. I – we, rather, just experienced a shock. I'm more worried about Hermione,' nodding at her, who was still curled up in the foetal position and gibbering to herself.

Madam Pomfrey held Hermione's wrist and counted her pulse. 'Ms Granger, how are you feeling, dear?'

'-will never work and his parents will probably kill me and disown him and Merlin knows how my parents will react to me having a boyfriend that's not Ron and what if they find out we're lovers and will Dad kill Professor Dumbledore for allowing all to happen under his roof and what if he forces Draco to marry me and Draco doesn't want to marry me because he'll get disowned and it's way too bloody soon to think about marriage and –'

Draco and Madam Pomfrey exchanged looks – Draco's panicked to Madam's merry.

'Ms Granger!' Madam Pomfrey clapped her hands together sharply.

Hermione stopped mid-babble, and she looked up. 'Madam Pomfrey?' she whispered.

'Yes, dear. How are you feeling?'

For an un-Gryffindor-like moment, she was tempted to hide beneath the bed's soft sheets and figure out a way to portal herself to the opposite ends of the earth. Then she sighed, and pulled herself together.

'I'm feeling better, thank you,' she said despondently, pulling herself up to a sitting position. Then she looked at Draco curiously. 'Why are you here?'

'Mr Malfoy experienced a less intense but similar reaction to yours,' Madam Pomfrey said helpfully.

'Oh.' Hermione reached out and took his hand.

'Well,' said Madam Pomfrey, 'if you think you can walk unaided, I hereby prescribe you both to your common room for the rest of the day. Sounds like you two need to talk about something.'

Hermione swung her legs over the bed, and gingerly stood up. Once she made it a few paces without falling flat on her face, Madam Pomfrey nodded and waved them goodbye.


Once Blaise dropped Draco off at the Hospital Wing, he took advantage of Professor Clarence's twittering about and getting under Madam Promfrey's feet to head back to the Muggle Studies classroom under some steam.

The classroom was in the usual bedlam it quickly descends into when a teacher disappears for longer than five seconds. Harry wasn't even bothering trying to keep order, or keep the peace, aside from trying to hold Ron back from the Slytherins. Apparently, despite Draco being affected at the same time as Hermione, Ron was convinced that Slytherin was somehow responsible for her condition.

Blaise approached Harry, keeping a wide berth from Ron, whom Harry had restrained by his shirt collar. Nodding outside, he said 'A word, mate?'

Harry let Ron off the leash and followed Blaise outside.

Closing the door on the unholy din, Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and said 'Yup?'

Blaise leaned against the opposite corridor wall. 'What's with Malfoy and Granger?'

Harry flushed and found something further down the corridor considerably worthy of his interest. 'Not sure what you're on about.'

'Cut it out, Potter. I've got eyes. Ever since the auditions Malfoy's been like an overprotective mother to Granger. Well, more accurately, he's been stopping himself from acting like an overprotective mother to Granger. And yeah, I get that this play's brought our houses closer together, and we're all getting on – except for Weasley – but all you have to do is watch them together, and you can see there's a connection between them that never existed before. So. Are they together?'

Harry prevaricated. 'Why are you asking me?'

'I saw you and Malfoy look at each other when he was about to bite your head off, then he did an about-turn. Like you were telling him to go with Granger to the Hospital Wing. Right after that silly bat dropped the bomb about our parents.'

Harry stayed stubbornly silent.

Blaise sighed. 'Look, I'm not trying to cause trouble. You want my opinion? I know every single bird Malfoy brought back to the Slytherin dorm. Vacant airheads, the lot of them. Aside from the ones who wanted him for his family's money. The most meaningful conversation you get out of them is who's featured on the cover of Witches' Weekly and why. He dumps them after a couple of shags because if he tries to stay with them any longer he's afraid he'll go insane and kill them. Or himself. Or every person in Hogwarts.

'He's an intelligent bloke who needs intellectual as well as physical stimulation from a woman if he's going to be with them for the long term. Granger's as intellectual as you can get, and she's a bloody beautiful bird, too. If it weren't for our houses and prior prejudices, you could say they were made for each other. So if they are together, I'm behind it. Hundred percent.'

Harry allowed a small smile to drift across his face. 'Sorry, mate. I can't tell you anything.'

Blaise noted Harry's emphasis on 'I' and nodded. 'All right.'

'Boys! What are you doing out here?' It wasn't often that Professor Clarence successfully managed to catch students unawares.

Both jumped and guiltily faced the Professor, who was tapping the floor with one foot and had her 'Your Explanation Had Better be Good' expression on her face.

'Sorry, Professor.'

'Sorry, Professor.'

'Oh, never mind, get in, get in – oh, my Gods! Mr Weasley, what are you doing?'


Draco slowly walked another circuit of the Heads' common room and glanced again at the woman he loved, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head buried. Patience wasn't a game that Draco was good at. He recalled some absolute hum-dingers of arguments at the beginning of their relationship because he kept pushing Hermione to say things she couldn't get her head around to say properly. Just as she did to him.

He wasn't sure if their reluctance to talk about personal things was a relationship compatibility, or incompatibility.

He checked the time. He had First Years' detention to supervise soon. He may as well go now if she couldn't communicate; it would beat standing in the common room like a spare prick at a wedding.

He cleared his throat. 'Babe, I've got First Years' detention soon – '

'Did you hear what I said when I was rambling in the Hospital Wing?'

Draco was both relieved and caught off-guard. 'Is this one of those questions where you want me to answer honestly or tactfully?'

She looked up and narrowed her eyes. 'Can't you do both?'

Draco thought about it. 'Do you want the honest or tactful answer to that question?'

'Malfoy!'

'All right!' he said. 'Going for honesty. Yes, I heard you.'

Hermione reddened. Then she said a swear word so rude that even Draco was a little shocked to hear it coming from her mouth. He was impressed nonetheless; he resolved to use that word as soon as possible; preferably on the Weasel.

He perched on the armrest of the couch. 'Shall we approach the problem logically?'

Logic? Hermione perked up a little. Yes. Quantifiable, tangible logic. Far more reliable than that waffly emotional bollocks.

'Our parents have been invited,' started Draco.

'This means one of two things can happen per parental unit,' took up Hermione. 'They attend; or they don't attend.'

'If both parental units don't attend, the problem is deferred.'

'Deferred?' Hermione looked up, confused. 'Shouldn't it be solved?'

Draco reached out and touched her cheek. 'They have to know about us sometime,' he said gently.

She blushed; he could feel her cheek warm under his fingers. 'Yeah. They do.'

He smiled, feeling his heart swell. Then he returned to the problem. 'If one or both parental units attend, we need to develop a strategy that will minimise discomfort, embarrassment, screaming matches and challenges to duels.'

'I can't imagine Lucius indulging in a screaming match.'

'I bet I could make him, if I tried.'

'Uh-huh, sure. How about we work on some strategies, instead of indulging in your narcissistic fantasies?'

'I know what I'd rather do,' he leered.

'What did I say about your one-track mind?'

Draco eased onto the couch and collected Hermione in his arms. 'We shouldn't feel guilty for doing something that isn't wrong. Yeah, it's possible, or probable, that our parents won't approve, but we're too old to be banned from seeing each other. If my parents stick to their old prejudices, they're the ones that need to examine their thinking, not us. If your parents think I'm some arrogant, stuck-up rich prick that's going to break your heart at the first opportunity, all I can do is tell them what my intentions are.'

Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes. 'What if your parents disown you?'

'We'll probably be poor, then.'

'Ha, ha. But seriously, you'd hate it.'

'Love, have some faith. We're both indecently intelligent, fabulously good-looking, and throughout school we've both made friends who will stand by us even if we're down to our last knut. In five years, probably less, we'll have taken the world by storm. We'll be okay.'

Happy tears began to splash onto Hermione's legs. 'And if my father forces us to marry?'

'Then we'll marry.'

'What?' Shocked, Hermione turned to him.

He shrugged. 'I'd rather we get married because both you and I want to marry, instead of having a… pistol wedding?'

Hermione smiled through her tears. 'Shotgun wedding. Oh, I don't even know why I'm crying!'

'Women's thing,' was Draco's response.

She shoved him off the couch.

'Oh well, time for me to terrorise the First Years,' said Draco, getting off the floor and heading for the portrait hole.

'Don't be too mean to them.'

'Moi?' Draco struck a pose of wounded innocence.

Laughing, Hermione blew him a kiss.

He was just about to respond when there was a tremendous banging on the portrait. Draco opened it, and Ginny rushed past him, her hair flying in all directions.

'Hello Red, how are you?' Draco muttered under his breath.

'Hermione! Harry just told me what happened in Muggle Studies today, and I rushed right over! How are you – oh Merlin, why are you crying?'

Hermione, sniffing and rubbing the tears from her face, said 'It's nothing – '

'You skinny, slimy bastard, what have you done to her?' Ginny whirled around furiously, and advanced on Draco with her wand pointed at his heart.

From habit, Draco pulled his wand out, but managed to keep it pointed at the floor. 'Keep your knickers on, Red, there's nothing wrong.'

'Liar!' Ginny spat. Draco took a reluctant step back; she was renowned for her Bat-Bogey Hexes, and he had a classroom full of First Year detention students to glare menacingly at. Rather hard to do with bat-bogeys flying everywhere.

'Ginny!' Hermione had leapt up from the couch. 'Draco didn't make me cry. In fact, he did the opposite. He helped me solve a problem and cheered me up enormously.'

'Oh.' Wand still trained on Draco, she pivoted around to look Hermione up and down. 'You're sure?'

'Yes! May I fail all my N.E.W.T.S if I tell a lie.'

'Oh,' Ginny said again. Then, rather sheepishly, she turned back to Draco and lowered her wand. 'Well. Um. Sorry, Malfoy. Red-heads and tempers; whaddya gonna do?'

A stinging rebuke bubbled up from within; but seeing Hermione's face, he swallowed it back down, and in a tone as neutral as he could make it, replied 'No worries.'

Ginny beamed, then rushed over to the couch and leapt upon it, dragging Hermione down her with her while both shrieked.

Draco smirked. 'Is this what the ladies get up to when the blokes aren't around? I think I might stay in, after all. The First Years can supervise themselves.' With that, he flopped down in a nearby comfy chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

The girls laughed. 'No chance!' said Hermione. 'Go down and practice your glower power on the poor things.'

'Fine, I can see when I'm not wanted.' He stood up. 'See you later.' Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed Hermione lightly on the lips.

Then realised, with horror, what he'd just done.


Hermione and Draco stared at each other; then slowly turned to look at Ginny. Ginny, in turn, was staring at them both with saucer-like eyes.

No-one moved.

Suddenly, there was a ginormous whoop from Ginny and she bounced up and down on the couch, clapping her hands with delight. 'I knew it!' she crowed. 'Well, I didn't really know it, exactly, but I definitely thought there might be something possibly going on, maybe!'

Hermione and Draco both watched her bounce up and down. 'So, you're okay with us?' Hermione ventured.

''Mione, look at you. You're happy. Way happier than you were with Ron, which is sort of sad because I always wanted us to be sisters, but even I agree that he's a trial at the best of the times, and if Malfoy is the cause of your happiness, then I'm happy for you. Besides,' Ginny added, 'if he breaks your heart, I'll just kill him – slowly, and over the space of many, many years.'

'Get in line behind your boyfriend,' sniped Draco; then wished he could just cut his head off and be done with it.

'Harry knows?' Ginny worked up a pout. 'That secret-keeping wanker.'

'Harry knew it was up to us to decide whether to tell you. And we did; we just got a bit distracted.' Hermione drew Ginny into a hug. 'And we'll always be sisters, no matter what.'

Ginny sniffled. Then she looked up. 'Does that mean Malfoy's my brother then?'

Draco headed for the portrait hole. 'And there's my cue to leave. Good night, ladies, try not to behave.'

'Oh, we won't,' they said together, before cracking up.


When the portrait hole closed, Hermione excused herself to freshen up. Ginny looked at the stairs, the portrait hole, then the stairs again. She jumped up, and dashed out of the portrait hole.

She found Draco not too far away, and lo; he was passing a convenient tapestry.

Being suddenly dragged behind a tapestry was not one of Draco's most favourite pasttimes. Anticipating a prank from twits like Crabbe and/or Goyle, he whirled roughly around, breaking the kidnapper's hold on him, then faltered when he saw it was Ginny.

'What have I done now?' Draco asked, irritated and mystified. 'It's only been a couple of minutes since I left. Surely I haven't managed to break Hermione's heart in that amount of time.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'No. Actually, I wanted to thank you.'

'A Weasley thanking a Malfoy? Don't tell me. When I pull back the tapestry, the sky will be raining blood and Muggle boy bands will rule the world.'

'Well, the idea of being ruled by boy bands does sound intriguing, but in actual fact, I want to thank you because that's how my Mum raised me. And if you drop the arrogant prick act, who knows? Maybe we can be friends, too.'

Draco bared his teeth at her. 'Baby steps, Red. And it's not an act. It's an essential part of my existence. If I lose the arrogance, I'll crumble to dust.'

'Cool! Can I see?'

He rolled his eyes. 'Can you just go back and keep 'Mione company?'

Ginny smiled. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a big, Weasley hug.

Draco retained enough presence of mind to briefly return the hug before peeling her off him.

'We're a touch-feely family,' she explained.

'Not your family, Weaselette!' he gritted from behind clenched teeth.

Ginny poked her tongue out.

'Go!' he ordered.

'Going!' She skipped off.


Draco was five minutes late for the First Years' detention, and the little bastards were practically swinging off the wall sconces when he opened the classroom door. When they saw who their supervisor was, they all shrieked and bolted for their desks, trembling like blobs of uniform-coloured jelly.

He hid a smirk before sitting at the teacher's desk and bestowing an evil grin upon his captives.