DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.

WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.

A/N: I'm uploading this because this chapter was practically finished and just needed a few touch ups - and mainly 'cause I just couldn't go MIA for like three months without leaving you guys a little something. XD So, enjoy!

PS: I'll reply to your reviews when I have the time, K? :)

CHAPTER TEN: THOSE ANNOYING LITTLE ACCIDENTS

Ron's irritable rant about Malfoy and having to waste his entire night in his partner's oh-so-desirable company just to research a stupid potion lasted all the way to the school library. By the time Harry and Ron reached the corridor leading to the place, he had called Malfoy a great number of excessively creative names that ranged from "air-headed, two-faced, good-for-nothing, dumb blond" to "bloody albino ferret-face with a twelve-foot pole stuck up his ugly ass". He had just gotten started on cursing "that slug of a Potions professor" to hell and back when Harry finally turned to him out of exasperation and begged him to shut up.

'Ron, I get it that you're not very, er, happy with having Malfoy for a partner,' she said as patiently as she could – which was not that patient at all – as she opened the library doors and lead the way inside. 'However, you do realise, don't you, that bad-mouthing Malfoy and Slughorn is not going to help? Just – I dunno, deal with it.'

Ron snorted derisively. 'Easy for you to say,' he muttered as he followed Harry who was already looking around for Blaise Zabini. 'You're not the one stuck with ferret-boy. And I am trying to deal with it; and it probably would be easier to do, too, if Malfoy acted like the prick he was. How the hell am I supposed to react if the jerk's gonna be all nice and bloody friendly?!' He threw his hands up in frustration. 'I'm still in shock about that!'

The librarian, Madam Pince, looked up from her desk at Ron's loud voice and made an angry, hushing noise at him which he pointedly ignored.

Distracted from her search for Blaise, Harry turned to look at Ron, a look of mild amusement gracing her face. 'So am I, Ron. A civil Draco Malfoy is hard to imagine. But, since you say that he is being, er, rather polite and all, perhaps you should be nice to him, too,' she suggested, raising her eyebrows. 'Maybe then it won't be so bad working with him.'

'I dunno,' he answered with a shrug, heading to one of the nearby tables and throwing his bag down onto the floor by a chair. 'I was actually thinking more along the lines of ignoring him and pretending that he doesn't exist,' he continued as he sat down and leaned back lazily, folding his arms behind his head.

Harry had to laugh at that; she approached the table and leaned against it leisurely. 'Oh, really? Well, let's see if you can get the project done that way.' She smirked down at him.

'Thanks,' he muttered sarcastically. With a sigh of vexation, he ran his hand through his mop of fiery red hair and grimaced. 'It's just that,' he said with a frown, 'well ... you know, it's Malfoy! And when he's being nice and all, it just – it just gives me this feeling that he's up to something!'

Harry contemplated his words for a moment, weighing the possibilities and probabilities. 'I don't know about that, Ron,' she answered thoughtfully. 'It's not like Malfoy to be civil to any of us Gryffindors, but, when you think about it – he's just avoided prison, his family's finally seen that Voldemort had been insane from the beginning, they've been through a tough media phase; I think that maybe he and his family have really changed sides for good. It doesn't seem all that likely that Malfoy's planning anything bad ... Don't you think that you're just being ...' she hesitated for a second, not wanting to offend her best friend, 'a little paranoid or something?'

He frowned. 'Dunno – maybe ...'

'There you are; you're late.'

Harry straightened up quickly when she saw her partner striding towards her; Ron stiffened.

'Sorry;' Harry apologised, 'lost track of time. But I got here a couple of minutes ago; I didn't see you.'

'It's OK, don't worry about it, Harry,' Blaise said breezily, coming to a stop a few feet away from her. Ron raised his eyebrows in both wonder and mild disbelief when he heard the Slytherin address Harry by her pet name.

Blaise noticed the red-head staring at him. 'Evening, Weasley,' he greeted the Gryffindor politely, smiling slightly as he did so. Ron's eyebrows skyrocketed, but he nodded shortly at him in acknowledgement nevertheless.

'Anyway, I have already found a few helpful books about Verita,' The Slytherin continued in a business-like voice as he turned back to Harry, not sounding the least bit offended by Ron's curtness. 'They have quite a lot of information about the ingredients and procedures. We just need to find some others that could help us with our essays; that would be enough for tonight. What do you think, Harry?' he added, rather courteously.

'Er, sounds good enough for one night, I guess,' Harry answered a little uncertainly; she was taken aback and slightly touched that Blaise was asking for her opinion. Though he had been quite friendly to her during their Potion's lesson, she had had not fully come to terms with the possibility that he really did intend to work with her as a team; but it sure sounded like he meant to.

Blaise shot her one of his lopsided grins. 'Well, shall we, then?' He gestured towards a table across the library where a small pile of books lay on top – obviously the ones he had collected.

Harry nodded and began to follow him, but stopped when she remembered Ron. 'What are you going to do till Malfoy comes?' she asked, turning back to him.

Ron shrugged. 'I plan to catch up on some of that sleep I lost last night, thanks to you.' He looked at Harry pointedly, but there was no real malice in his expression and tone.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes. 'How 'bout you do something useful like finding Verita-related books?'

'Aw, Merlin, no! You're starting to sound like Hermione!' Ron groaned in mock-horror. 'But, honestly, no way! There is no way that I'm gonna hunt for information while Malfoy has it bloody easy! Why should I do all the donkey work?'

Harry snorted and tried to swallow a snicker at his typical response; she could have sworn she heard Blaise chuckle, too, though he was more than twenty feet away from them by then. Grinning at Ron, she waved vaguely at him, before turning to catch up with the Slytherin.

Draco glanced surreptitiously at the attractive brunette who was loitering around the large bookshelf that was directly behind the table he was sharing with Ron Weasley. He did not know who she was, but that was the least of his concerns; he was more interested in her hand; her left hand, currently out of his line of vision – and which might or might not bear a small, white gold ring, declaring her to be the one...

The girl reached up with both hands to pull a heavy tome off the shelf and Draco's eyes immediately darted to the fingers of her left hand. In the few moments that it took for his eyes to focus on the slim digits, he felt his heart rate begin to increase, driven by adrenaline as nervousness and anticipation took hold of his senses. If it really was this particular girl who had gotten his ring...

It was not her. Draco's hope deflated quicker than a popped balloon when he saw no sign of the Malfoy ring on her fingers. A sigh of frustration escaped his lips; time and time again, his expectations had shot up within these past couple of days whenever his eyes landed on a girl – or rather, on a girl's hand, which was something he had unconsciously begun to do and had not been able to control much.

Draco frowned slightly, eyes still on the brunette's bare hand; by now, he had lost count of how many fingers he had squinted at; and each time that he had failed to find his fiancée, his disappointment had increased more and more. Though it had only been two days since his return to Hogwarts, he was now tentatively – and with mounting worry – beginning to question whether his fiancée really did go to Hogwarts or ... was she here, but did not want anything to do with him ...?

'Are you some sort of closet pervert or something, Malfoy?'

Startled, Draco turned to face Weasley, who was seated across from him and was watching him with a sceptical look on his face, eyebrows raised pointedly. It was the first full sentence the red-head had uttered all night; before that, his side of the conversation as Draco tried to "politely" discuss their project had consisted of short, gruff phrases and a varying series of grunts that had annoyed the Slytherin greatly as he tried to interpret the irritating Troll Talk. On top of that, Weasley had also avoided eye contact with him as much as possible, though Draco had noticed that the Gryffindor had been shooting him suspicious looks whenever he thought the blond was not looking. Compared with all that, that question Ron Weasley had just asked him was relatively human and normal.

Or so he thought until his mind fully computed the meaning of it.

'A what?' Draco snapped, insulted. 'And just what exactly gave you that impression, Weasel – ley?' Damn, who would have thought that it would take so much self-control to keep himself in check and not call the annoying Gryffindor by his well-deserved label of "Weasel"?

The weasel in question snorted, rolling his eyes. 'Oh, I don't know, Malfoy,' he drawled, voice laced with disparagement, 'perhaps the fact that you've been gawking at each and every girl that's passed this table for the past hour and half? What's the matter? Never seen a woman before? Or are you just that desperate to get laid?'

Draco shot him a death-glare at his not-very-subtle insinuation, but the sight of his evil-eye did not phase Weasley in the least; instead of glowering right back, he merely smirked slightly, obviously pleased at having riled up his partner's ire. Draco gritted his teeth; he had always known that there were a lot of reasons as to why he hated the red head so much!

'I – am – not – a – pervert, Weasel!' Draco hissed. Screw self-control.

'The hell you're not, ferret-face.'

The blond narrowed his eyes dangerously at the Gryffindor. 'Damn it, Weasley, I wasn't staring at their ...' he had to pause to think of a suitable enough word that would not bring the wrath of the librarian (or screeching girls) were she to overhear him, '... curves, for your information.'

The other teen snorted. 'Of course you weren't staring at their curves,' he said sarcastically. 'Where else would you be looking at? Their smooth and shapely arms? Well-proportioned hands? Slender fingers?' With another roll of his eyes, he turned away from the seething Slytherin and picked up his Potions book nonchalantly, pretending not to notice that Draco was currently putting all of his energy into turning him into a puddle of soggy melted flesh with the force of his eyes alone.

'As a matter of fact, Weasley, yes, her fingers were exactly what I was looking at,' snapped Draco, too incensed to think about what he was saying.

'Her fingers, is that right – wait, what?' The red head's tone changed from satirical to sudden comprehension at lightening speed. Forgetting his book, he looked back up right at Draco, his eyes widening to mega proportions and his jaw slackened. 'You ... their fingers ... you mean that – that you were searching for Har – er, I mean, your ... er, fiancée?'

Draco managed to stop himself from flinching just in time. Damn it, he should not have spoken before thinking! This was not something that he wanted to discuss with anyone except Blaise, especially with Weasel-Bee of all people! He could just imagine what must be going on in that thick head of his now – that he, Draco Malfoy, was pining for his "one true love" and enduring unbearable heartache for each second that he spent away from his significant other. Involuntarily squaring his shoulders, Draco began to accumulate every caustic insult that he could bring to mind on short notice, all ready to throw them into Weasley's face (physically, if the need arose) when the inevitable taunts started.

To his surprise, they never did.

Ron Weasley continued to ogle at him, his eyes like saucers while the expression on his features – understanding mixed with shock and disbelief – became progressively more prominent. Draco raised an eyebrow, slightly confused and intrigued by this unexpected reaction from his no-longer-an-enemy-but-still-close-enough.

'What's it to you if I am trying to find my fiancée, Weasley?' He asked dryly, folding his arms on the tabletop. 'And what's with that look on your face? If I were you, I would close my mouth right about now; we wouldn't want that dangling slob of saliva to escape your maw and contaminate the table, now, would we?'

Again, to his wonder, Weasley did not respond in the way that he expected him to; instead of counterattacking with a verbal assault or even a physical one, he slowly looked back down at his book, something akin to nervousness clouding his eyes as he mumbled something that sounded like, 'Bloody hell, he's actually looking for her...' Draco began to frown, now truly mystified and irritated by the other's strange behaviour.

'Alright, what's going on, Weasley?' he demanded.

'Nothing,' was the muttered answer.

'The hell it's nothing!' Draco hissed, ire ringing in every syllable as he leaned across the table towards Weasley. 'First of all, you react like that when you realised I was searching for my fiancée, and then you go on mumbling to yourself like you actually know who –!' His rant came to an abrupt halt as the realisation hit him like a harsh slap to the face. He narrowed his eyes at the red-head who was now glaring back at him defiantly. 'What do you know that I don't, Weasley?' he growled softly.

'What makes you think I would know anything about your stupid engagement, eh, Malfoy?' shot back the Gryffindor, but the way his voice caught on the words was not missed by the blond.

'You know something, Weasel; even a retard could figure that!'

'Well, I do know something that every retard knows: that whoever is the unfortunate girl who got your bloody ring would never agree to be the wife of an arrogant git like you!'

With a snarl, Draco stood up, almost knocking over his chair as he did so. He was not as angry at the insult as he was about the red-head's refusal to answer truthfully. Draco had a right to know about his fiancée and it was evident that the other boy knew a lot more than he was letting on, and Merlin help him, Draco would find out exactly what it was!

However, Weasley was not quite as agreeable when Draco made his firm intentions known. 'Yeah, good luck with that,' he snorted, as he calmly stood up also and began to pack his bag in an obvious dismissal of their research session.

'So, you are admitting that you do know something?' Draco challenged, grabbing his bag as well.

'Clean out your ears, Malfoy; I never said that.'

The Slytherin glared at his long-time adversary. 'Have it your way, then; but I will find out eventually, Weasley, I swear!'

'Just aching to meet your other half, aren't you, Malfoy?' Weasley retorted in a drawl, but there was a touch of something that sounded like revulsion in his tone.

Draco did not bother to dignify his remark with an answer as he icily walked away to find Blaise.

Harry covered her mouth to stifle a yawn that was just impossible to hold in. The action caught the attention of Blaise who glanced up from the thick book he had been perusing to look amusedly at her.

'Tired?' he asked, smiling slightly.

'Mm hmm,' Harry nodded, dropping her quill on top of the piece of parchment she had been scribbling in and leaning back in her seat with a weary sigh. She eyed the numerous volumes on potions she had been flipping and skimming through for the past who knew how many hours, and the many pieces of parchment that littered their once neat and organised table. The sight of them and the mere thought of opening another potions tome tonight made her feel sick to her stomach.

Blaise seemed to share this sentiment as well. 'Maybe we should call it a night,' he suggested, snapping close the book in his hand and throwing a mild grimace at the others strewn across their table. 'We've already found out more than enough about the ingredients and we've memorised about a third of the procedures; enough for one night, I think.'

'Damn straight,' Harry muttered, stifling another yawn. The action was cut short when a sudden thought came to her. 'Oh Merlin, no,' she groaned in exasperation.

'What?'

'Our essays,' she scowled. 'We spent so much time researching the practical methods of making the thing that we forgot to find information for our essays!'

'Oh,' Blaise muttered, looking as if he wanted to groan out loud himself. He glanced down at the closed book he was still holding in his hands. 'Maybe,' he began thoughtfully, 'we should check out the books we need for the essays and work on them on our own later. The essay is an individual work after all, and on top of that, we still have a lot more to look up about Verita; if we spend these times in the library working on the essays together, I don't think we'll have enough time to prepare to make the potion.'

'Yeah, great,' Harry muttered, mouth pressed tight together. 'Less free time and more potions work – an individual one at that.'

Blaise raised an eyebrow, lips twitching slightly. 'You sound as enthusiastic about Potions as your friend, Weasley, does.'

She chuckled, warmth filling her drowsy eyes and lighting them up. 'Mm, yeah, Ron's rubbed off on me a bit. Besides, I've never really liked Potions much – it's always been one of my weakest subjects.'

'I figured that,' he answered with mock sarcasm in his voice. 'But if you like, I could help out a bit with your essay if you have any difficulties,' he added with a rather friendly smile.

Harry looked at him and felt a small hard-to-repress grin creep up on her face as well. 'Thanks, Blaise; I appreciate it ... but,' She eyed him with a contemplative expression, 'can I ask you one question?'

'I believe you just did,' the dark-eyed teen chortled, 'but you have my permission to ask one more.' Blaise grinned mischievously at her.

For a moment, she merely stared at him, a hint of surprise clouding her eyes at the familiarity with which he had just teased her. Their obligatory acquaintance had barely just begun, and already Blaise was acting so natural and warm; it was as if he felt completely at ease in her presence. That was not to say that Harry was not fond of his company – she was really beginning to appreciate it, but still – she certainly did not feel as impossibly comfortable and unperturbed around him as he seemed to be around her – a mystery that was tied to the question that was presently nagging at her mind.

'I want to know – why are you being so ... I dunno ... pleasant and friendly to me?'

The bronze-skinned boy looked a little taken aback at her seemingly-strange inquiry. 'Why, are you complaining?' he finally asked wryly, crocking his brow.

'No!' Harry said quickly, fearing that she had offended him. 'It's just that ... well, you know, in sixth year when Slughorn invited us to lunch with him on the train – well, I kind of got the feeling that you didn't really like me.' Actually, she was goddamn sure that he had really disliked, maybe even hated, her back then; but Harry doubted that emphasising that point would be wise at the moment. 'But now you're being really civil and all ...'

'You're being pretty civil to a Slytherin yourself, Harry,' he drawled lazily, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, eyeing her cynically.

'On top of all that,' Harry continued, choosing to ignore his comment, 'Ron told me that Malfoy was being rather polite to him during Potions as well, and that is something that is just ...'

'Shocking?' supplied Blaise helpfully.

'Something that violates the laws of nature is more like it,' Harry said bluntly and Blaise laughed softly, tipping his head to one side. 'So ... care to explain what's really going on here?'

Dark, enigmatic eyes watched her meditatively. 'I tell you what,' he said abruptly, leaning forwards, 'let's do this fairly; I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine.'

Harry blinked in surprise; she had not been expecting that. 'Oh, um ... fine,' she answered warily.

He shot her a penetrating look before lowering his eyes to her hands that were resting on the table. 'What are you hiding underneath that glove?'

Harry practically froze in her chair and the visible knuckles on her right hand went white as she clenched her hands into fists. Blaise raised his eyebrows at her reaction.

'What makes you think I'm hiding anything under it?' Her voice was stiff and had a hard edge to it.

The brunet rolled his eyes. 'The fact that it's quite warm within the castle and that you wear a glove only on one hand - which, strangely enough, are fingerless except for those stubs - are enough to suggest that you do not wear it merely for the warmth. So, it's really quite easy to figure out what the purpose of the glove is ... So? What little secret does that thing hide from the world, hmm?'

Harry said nothing and Blaise smirked at her.

'I understand if you'd rather not tell me,' he said lightly, reaching for his bag and beginning to pack away the parchment and quills. 'But that means that I won't be answering your question either. So, when you tell me your secret, I'll answer your question. Deal?'

All she could manage was a wordless shrug as she, too, began to mechanically pack her things. She knew that that "deal" was something that would never ever be acted upon – not while she had a say in it! Blaise Zabini had been hanging around Malfoy twenty-four seven ever since she had first seen them both this year. Not even the threat of excruciating pain and dismemberment would have loosened her tongue to someone who was that close to Malfoy.

Blaise chuckled upon seeing her expressionless visage. 'Wow. That secret must be quite a large one, huh, if one simple inquiry about it can shut you up like that?'

Harry just gave him a mock glare of "drop-it-or-you'll-die" before zipping her bag shut. Thankfully, Blaise obliged without argument this time and began to sort through the numerous volumes on the table, explaining that he wanted to choose some that he could check out of the library before someone else did, so that they could use them again during their next research session. Harry nodded in agreement, eager to push away all the talk about her glove and "secret".

'Fine, you do that. I'm off to see if I can find a few books that can help with that essay.' Harry stood up, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. 'Coming?'

'No; I'll look them up later. For now, I'll just deal with these.'

'Right; well, I'll see you later in class, Blaise.'

'You too, Harry.'

With a smile that was returned, Harry turned and hurried towards the bookshelves on the other side of the library.

Daft, dim-witted weasel-bee!

An angry scowl still marred Draco's face as he walked down an aisle in the Potions section. He tried to focus his mind on the task at hand: find some appropriate textbooks for his Potions homework and for the project (working with the King of Weasel-dom was really not all that helpful) before checking whether Blaise was done for the night or not; but his mind continued to linger on that aggravating possibility that Ronald Weasley of all people just might know something about the identity of his anonymous fiancée.

The angry expression deepened as he stalked onwards, looking at but not seeing the titles of the books as he furiously contemplated the pure injustice of that dumb red-haired Gryffindork knowing more about his fiancée than Draco did himself. It's just like last time, he thought furiously. Weasley – it was always Weasley who got it in the end, even when it was he, Draco Malfoy, who got first dibs at something. Always Weasley...

Just like back in first year...

Not again, he thought irritably and pushed the sudden, unwelcome memory away. It was something that he had told himself over the years that he would never think about again – and failed at constantly. It doesn't matter now, he told himself firmly, wishing that he could believe it. Not anymore; I'm engaged to someone else now...

It probably would have been much easier if only he could convince himself of his own words.

Groaning in frustration, he fought down the urge to drive his fist into a bookshelf on his way past. After all these years, he would think that he would be over that by now, but those thoughts had started plaguing him again! That little conversation with the weasel had now indirectly reminded him of that, right when it was most inconvenient because he was bloody engaged now!

Would it never end?!

'Goddamn it!' he growled, not caring if Madam Pince would overhear or not as he glowered at the ground. 'Curse it all to the deepest pit of Hell!' Still swearing, he rounded a corner, giving up on research and deciding that he might as well as go and brood himself to sleep when somewhere above him, a voice suddenly exclaimed, 'Hey, watch it!'

Startled, Draco looked up only to realise two things; that one, he was less than a foot away from a ladder on which a person was already standing, and two, that there was no possible way he could stop from walking right into it.

The next three seconds was a complete haze for him. All Draco could remember afterwards was the sensation of painfully colliding into wood, hearing an exclamation that was both a curse and an expectation of pain, the feel of a slim body crashing right on top of him and then the hard ground underneath.

What he did recall vividly, though, was seeing two, almond-shaped eyes staring right into his own before he was knocked over; that plus the sharp pain that shot through him and refused to fade for a long time.

Ow, was the first coherent thought he could produce. Draco lay still for a few moments with his eyes closed, instinctively letting his senses spread out to give himself a mental check up for any injuries. He could feel no broken ribs or bones, though his spine and back hurt like hell as did the back of his head. Damn, I think I banged it.

It was only after that, though, that his mind registered the body still lying on top of him. The person was not uncomfortably heavy or anything, but Draco realised that he was having a little difficulty breathing in and out ... Wait – was it...? No way! Surely ... surely, his brain must be receiving the wrong set of signals; because there was just no way that fate could be so cruel as to press, along with their bodies, their faces together ... their mouths...

His eyes flew open only to see two eyes gaping right back at him barely an inch away; and as blurred as they were from the proximity, he recognised them immediately; there was only one person in all of Hogwarts who Draco knew to have such vibrant, jade-tinted eyes. The sight of them sent a shiver running up his aching spine and a wave of heat washed over his face as he fully registered the sensation of having her lips fused to his.

She was the first to react. With unwittingly tantalising slowness, she pushed herself up on her elbows, pulling her mouth away from his. The awkwardness of the situation was not helped in the least when their lips made a soft, smacking sound as they parted.

Draco stared up at her reddening face dazedly, still trying to grasp what had just happened when a sudden feeling came over him. It was like a physical sensation that began at his lips and spread out through his body like a raging forest fire, filling him with strange, prickling warmth, but at the same time, raised goosebumps on his arms. The sensation disappeared as fast as it had come, leaving nothing behind but a pounding heart and a pair of tingling lips. He blinked, feeling breathless and very confused. What - what was that?

'I ...'

His eyes focussed on the girl who was still on top of him. Potter's face, still so close to his own that he could feel her breath fanning over his face, was now a previously unknown shade of magenta and her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to overcome her speechlessness. The comical sight finally knocked some sense back into him.

'You have got to stop with these little falling-on-top-of-me accidents, Potter,' Draco drawled dryly, 'before you go and crush me to death – or perhaps that was your intention all along?'

He chose to disregard the fact that his eyes involuntarily concentrated on her pink lips – her soft, very-pleasant-to-kiss lips, noted a voice in the back of his mind, bringing a flush to his face – and the soft shiver that coursed through him when her mouth brushed enticingly against his own as he spoke. A sudden urge to lean up and capture her lips in another kiss came over him and he had to make a conscious effort to resist it. What the hell?! Why am I - ?

Meanwhile, his dry sarcasm had managed to break the ice and her fiery nature ignited.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' she hissed, her eyes flashing as she glowered down at him. Their lips brushed again and Draco could almost feel his skin burn at the soft contact; his breath came out in a shaky hiss and he almost protested when she quickly pulled her face further away from his. Another soft blush had spread across her countenance, but the ire in her eyes did not fade. 'Maybe I wouldn't have fallen on top of you again if Your Highness had bothered to watch where you were going!'

'Yeah, well ...' Fighting against the fog that was clouding his mind, Draco tried to come up with a smart-ass reply, 'what the hell were you doing on top of a ladder, anyway?!'

'Oh, I don't know;' she said sarcastically, sounding extremely like a certain, auburn-haired sidekick of hers despite the fact that the redness in her cheeks had not completely receded yet, 'maybe I was trying to get a book that I wouldn't have been able to reach otherwise?'

Right; of course. He scowled up at her, fighting the flush that unfolded on his face when he realised the stupidity of his argument. Still, not being one to surrender easily, he opened his mouth to make another scathing (and probably idiotic) retort when an all-too-familiar voice drawled amusedly, 'I'm not interrupting something, am I?'

The two teens on the ground looked up to see an amused Blaise standing over them, a suggestive leer on his face. Draco did go fully red this time when he remembered that the girl was still lying on him in quite a suggestive manner. As for Potter, she snatched herself away from him so fast that he did not even notice the action until he realised three seconds later that her weight was no longer resting on top of him. Still red in the face, Draco slowly rose to his feet, wincing as more pain shot through his back as he straightened.

Meanwhile, the raven-haired girl was smoothing down her robes as she coolly said to the other Slytherin, 'It was just an accident, Blaise.' The high colour in her cheeks contrasted with her aloof tone.

'Of course it was,' Blaise answered airily, though his dark eyes were still dancing with laughter as he watched her bend down to pick up the library book she had dropped during the little "accident".

'Why are you here, Blaise?' Draco cut into their talk, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at his friend.

The half-Italian shrugged innocently at him. 'Just came to find Harry because she left her Potions book behind.' He rather overstressed his answer by dangling the aforementioned book under Draco's nose for a full ten seconds much to the blond's annoyance, before throwing it lightly at the girl.

'Thanks, Blaise.' She caught the book deftly with one hand and quickly stuffed it in her bag. 'See you,' she added, beginning to walk away.

Draco did not miss the self-conscious look she gave him before she disappeared from view round the corner of the aisle. He watched her go, his mind blank and buzzing, and only turned away when the sound of Blaise chuckling softly reached his ears.

'How long were you standing there before you interrupted?' he asked pointedly, voice low and level.

Blaise smiled slightly. 'Long enough,' was his simple reply.

Draco averted his eyes and pretended that he could not still feel the touch of Potter's lips on his own.

'Are you serious?!'

'Yes, Ron,' Harry groaned exasperatedly, sinking into the armchair beside Hermione. 'How many times do I have to say it?'

'But – but, that's just – you and Malfoy ...' Words failed her friend as he paced back and forth in front of her before throwing himself onto the sofa opposite her, with a jumbled expression on his face.

'I already told you that it wasn't deliberate!' Harry pointed out, wondering what it was with men and their incapability to understand such simple concepts. First Blaise, now Ron... 'Do you honestly think I would throw myself on top of Malfoy on purpose? If he had only been watching where he was going –!'

'Yeah, yeah, I get it, Harry,' Ron interrupted. 'But, still ...'

Harry grimaced slightly; she could understand his disgust all too well. Without thinking, she slowly licked her lips and almost went red when she realised - or maybe imagined - that she could almost taste him still. Note to self: brush teeth thrice and gurgle with mouthwash before going to bed, she thought, fighting hard to overcome the blush.

'Harry ...' Hermione murmured pensively; it was the first word she had spoken ever since Harry had come back to the nearly empty common room and dazedly recounted what had happened in the library. 'If you really did kiss ...'

'Hermione!' Not you, too! 'It wasn't like that –!'

'No, of course not, Harry, that's not what I meant; but if it involved skin contact ...'

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. 'Honestly, Hermione, if two people have ever managed to kiss without involving skin contact before – well, then that's a first for me.'

Mentally agreeing with Ron, Harry gazed at Hermione, wondering what she was trying to get at. The bushy-haired girl had that look on her face, the one she always got right before solving a big mystery ... and what usually followed right afterwards was an outburst that was the English equivalent of "Eureka!"

As if on cue –

'Oh, Merlin!' Hermione shot to her feet, a shocked look on her face. With a sigh, Harry slumped in her armchair; damn, her guess had been right – and apparently the "solved mystery" thing was not good news...

'Oh, no, can it be...?' Within five seconds, Hermione had disappeared up the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory.

Ron watched her go with raised eyebrows. 'Don't you just love it when she acts like that?' he muttered.

Harry said nothing, waiting for Hermione's return with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Whatever was coming, it was not good; she just knew it.

Her apprehension was short-lived. A few minutes later, Hermione came running down the stairs with a large tome tucked under her arm. Harry looked at it quizzically as Hermione dropped it onto the table in front of them with a bang! Her expression turned to one of comprehension and surprise when she recognised what book it was.

'You borrowed it from the library?' Harry looked up questioningly at Hermione as her friend hurriedly flipped through the yellowed pages of Old Enchantments and Charms: A Comprehensive Collection of Forgotten Enchantments Cast in the Past.

'Yes,' Hermione answered distractedly, still searching through the heavy volume with a careless zeal she barely ever did express when dealing with her beloved books. 'Since it's the only one we were able to find so far that mentioned engagement rings, I thought it would be better to do it.'

'But what's the point of borrowing it? There's nothing in there on how to remove the ring,' reminded Ron as he sat up and leaned forwards to peer over the tabletop. 'We looked through it for hours that night!'

'Mm hmm, but I decided to borrow it and read it cover to cover, just in case we missed anything.'

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. 'Only you, Mione,' murmured Ron, shaking his head slightly and Harry nodded her agreement.

'Here it is!' Hermione smoothed out a page and began to scan it with her eyes; she finally found the paragraph she was searching for and began to read aloud,

'A complete record of all the magic cast on Wizarding engagement rings has never been made, and though most of the enchantments have been deciphered by modern magic researchers, some of the most crucial charms cast on them still remain as mysteries to date. For example, researchers are still unable to decode the forgotten enchantment that gives such rings the ability to "inform" the ring-owner that he or she has found their fiancé(e) when physical contact, be it accidental or intentional, has been made between both of them for the first time after the owner has donned the ring. The method of "informing" slightly varies with different engagement rings, but most ring-owners have reported feeling "strange, prickling warmth" spreading throughout their bodies a few seconds after having touched their fiancé(e)s.'

It took several seconds for the gist of what Hermione had just read aloud to dawn on Harry, but a persistent buzzing had filled her ears and her mind went blank, because her brain just point-black refused to accept what she had heard. That just could not be happening! Surely life could not be so callous...

'Bloody hell,' breathed Ron, his eyes impossibly wide; he, too, had obviously understood the situation, but unlike Harry, his mind had evidently grasped what hers had rejected. 'You mean that – because they kissed...'

Harry still had enough active brain cells in order to mumble, 'T'wasn't a kiss.'

Ron ignored the interruption and continued, '– the stupid ring has informed Malfoy that Harry is his fiancée?'

''M not his fiancée.'

'So, Malfoy knows about Harry now??'

'I don't know, Ron,' Hermione answered quietly, her eyes still locked on the little passage that had as good as spelled "doom" for one Harry Potter. 'It all depends on whether Malfoy knows about this magic of the rings. It's possible that his parents have already told him, but then again, they might have overlooked it; after all, Malfoy can't walk around touching every girl he sees to know if she's his fiancée or not – so, it's likely that his parents haven't told him about this little detail.'

'Right ... but, now that he has touched Harry, could he have felt that – what was it? – burning hotness in his body...? No, wait ... that last part came out wrong...'

'Actually, yes, I daresay he must have felt it by now,' Hermione answered matter-of-factly, opting to disregard Ron's choice of words. 'Let's just hope that he doesn't know what that means, though; that will give us more time to remove the ring.'

'I guess,' Ron muttered dubiously. He looked around at Harry and concern filled his blue eyes immediately. 'Hey, you alright, Harry?'

Dull, green eyes gazed expressionlessly at the fire for a few seconds before rising to meet those of her friends'. 'I just heard that Draco Malfoy might or might not know by now that his damn ring came to me which would lead to the most uncomfortable and embarrassing situation I'd ever have to face – of course, I'm bloody alright.' Her derision was not missed.

'Oh, don't worry, Harry,' Hermione said quickly in a soothing tone, 'it'll be fine! In fact, I think it's quite likely that he doesn't know about this. Remember that first night back when you fell off the train on top of him?'

Thanks for the déjà vu reminder.

'It's possible that, when you fell on him, he felt this "warmth" that night, too, but Malfoy hasn't been acting odd around you or seemed to realise that you're his fiancée –'

'No,' Harry interrupted brusquely, 'there was no skin contact that night; I'm positive that I didn't touch him. If he did feel anything, it must have been only tonight, because,' she raised her voice upon seeing that Hermione was on the verge of interjecting, 'I saw an odd look on his face right after I ... you know ... fell off the ladder on top of him ...'

'Oh ... but still Harry, even if Malfoy did feel anything tonight, he might not know what it means, so it's really not a very big deal!' Hermione gave her a bright, encouraging smile. 'There are still a lot of books in the library we haven't checked and till we find how to take off the ring, Malfoy might never find out about you.'

'Yeah,' Ron agreed heartily though the apparent doubt in his eyes told Harry that he was only doing so for her sake.

'Well, I hope so,' Harry answered wearily as she stood up and picked up her book-bag. She glanced down at the black glove that hid the white gold ring from view and grimaced. 'Ugh, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? I have just got to find a way to remove this!'

'We're with you, Harry; we'll find a way and everything will be alright,' Ron said reassuringly, slinging an arm around her shoulders as all three of them headed towards the staircase leading to the dormitories.

'Isn't that last part supposed to be my line?' Hermione asked amusedly.

'Yeah, you're right,' Ron chuckled. 'But I've known you for seven years, Mione. You're rubbing off on me.'

'Oh, the horror of having two Hermione Grangers in this world,' Harry snorted, lips twitching. She quickly ducked when Hermione pretended to aim a slap at her head.

Laughing, the trio headed up the stairs, calling out their good nights as they parted ways to go to their separate dormitories. None of them noticed the pair of curious eyes that watched them intently from the shadows.

A/N: If you're happy about a certain little something that happened in this chappy, then don't thank me; thank my evil little devil-minions who're assisting me with world annihilation - er, I mean, ahem, my cousin Euko-chan and my friend Mihoo, who put so much pressure on me that I finally gave in and delivered what they wanted ... which is also what you guys probably wanted. :D And it also did help with the progress of the storyline, so who am I to complain? ... lol. Let me know what you thought of that, hm? ^v^

So, I'll see you guys with an update after June, yeah - because I seriously cannot upload another chapter till then. :( I hope this one satisfied your cravings for some Draco/Harry interaction somewhat.

By the way, the voting poll is still up on my profile, so please drop in a vote if you haven't already. XD

COMING NOT SO SOON: CHAPTER ELEVEN: Bugging the Dragon