COUNTERFEIT

X

"Who's there?" Came Hagrid's booming voice, and an over-friendly Fang leapt onto Draco. The boy was so startled that he fell with a thump into the snow. Hermione made a choking noise. "Uh oh," mocked Angry Hermione, "somebody is going to get into so much trouble. You should have listened to me."

Hermione shook her head, thinking: what a horrible time for these problematic little devils of her overly imaginative mind to show up. She stood, as if petrified, as Draco Malfoy ("Whom you were just attached at the mouth with," added Angry Hermione) managed to shove Fang off of him. The dog then came hurdling toward Hermione. Hermione didn't notice it, as she was still preoccupied in her mind, where Angry and Needy Hermiones resided. Fang barely managed to get a sniff at her before Hagrid came around the corner, huffing as he did so. He stopped short the moment he laid eyes on the scene, as if shocked. His beady eyes scanned the surroundings quickly. He looked down at where Hermione stood, shaking, with Fang, slobbering drool everywhere. Then he looked up at the imprint in the snow, where Draco had fallen moments ago, but was now kneeling beside.

Hagrid scowled. "Yeh lil' rascal," he thundered, "Wha'd ya think yer doin'…?"

Hermione's mind scrambled for an answer and her mouth opened and closed, trying to make a sound. She was blind to Draco who was silently motioning for her to keep quiet.

Hagrid continued, "Runnin' off like that. If there really had been bad folk out here…"

Hermione closed her mouth immediately. She blinked. That's not right. Hagrid was talking to Fang as if…as if neither her nor Draco were there. Hermione looked in Draco's direction, and was surprised to see that he was clutching his wand, still raised high. There seemed to be a blue shimmer around him. Faerie lights? No, too dark of a colour. Hermione looked down at herself out of impulse. There were faint shimmering blue lights around her too.

"Malfoy had cast a charm," Angry Hermione whispered, "Hagrid can't see you two." Needy Hermione giggled. "He did it to protect you!" She clapped excitedly. Angry Hermione rolled her eyes. "No," she scoffed, "He obviously did it to protect his own little ego. Imagine, being caught swapping spit with the Queen of Muggles herself!"

"Nonsense. Don't listen to her, Hermione," Needy Hermione hissed. Angry Hermione bushed away a curly lock and climbed into Hermione's ear. "What kind of magic do you think that is? The only way to become invisible is to be by an invisibility cloak, right? Or, like Professor Dumbledore, a wizard can spend years to perfect the art of invisibility…but to make two people invisible by a wand…?" There was a small smile in Angry Hermione's voice as she continued, "He's using dark magic, isn't he?"

Hermione's hands shook. She started when she discovered that Hagrid and Fang had already gone. She looked over at Draco and saw that he had stood up. Instead of brushing the snow off his jumper, he quickly hurried to her side. "Are you alright?" He asked sounding deeply concerned. Hermione frowned. She hadn't heard him. Actually, she was trying to locate Needy Hermione. He couldn't have used dark magic, could he? Needy Hermione must have an excuse, she must have. It took Hermione a little while to figure out that Needy Hermione had abandoned her. There were no excuses, because Needy Hermione was beaten. She knew Angry Hermione had won this round.

"Hermione?" Her name sounded nice spoken by Draco. She looked up at him, looking straight into his eyes, searching for an answer. "What charm was that?" She heard herself ask coldly. Draco blushed and looked down at the snowy ground, stamping his feet.

"It was…you know…" he paused and shrugged, still not meeting her eye. Hermione's heart sank. She shook her head and looked away, feeling disconcerted.

"It's cold out here," she said suddenly. She took off one of her gloves and dragged a finger across the Slytherin boy's jumper, wet from the melting snow gathered from his fall. Draco nodded and smiled. Hermione noticed that his lips were a little blue and his teeth where chattering.

"That Ha-Hagrid," Draco stammered, "he said something about going up to the castle to talk to Dumbledore, so he wont be back for a while. We can warm up in his hut for the time being, okay?"

Hermione allowed herself to be led into Hagrid's cabin through the back door (Draco used the Alohomora). She watched Draco starting the fire with his wand. Just because he knows dark magic it's not enough of a motive to let him freeze to death, she reasoned with herself. She thought she felt Angry Hermione shake her head and mutter something about being in denial.

Hermione re-gathered herself and fetched Hagrid's kettle, taking note of an unopened barrel labeled "Firewhiskey" sitting at the bottom of the cabinet. She put the kettle on the fire to make some hot water. Then she sat on the corner of Hagrid's bed and stared into the dancing flames for a good ten minutes.

Draco sat himself in front of the fireplace and began to dry himself off. He constantly looked over at Hermione, as if waiting for something. He paced around the hut for a little, and then returned to his place by the fire. He tried to start a conversation three times and failed miserably. He couldn't stand the silence anymore. It was time to face the music, no matter how much he hated the tune. "It was indeed a spell I read out of a…questionable book," he began quietly, "But that doesn't classify it as dark magic."

"Is that book of the dark arts?" Hermione asked flatly.

Draco paused. "Er…yes, I guess so."

"Then how is it not classified as dark magic?" Hermione snapped loudly. Draco groaned and turned from the fire, clutching his head, feeling his frustration mounting. "I know that you've been taught that all who touch any type of magic beyond the ability of the common wizarding public is evil," his eyes begged her to understand, "and that all kinds of advanced magic is dark. But that's biased and wrong. It's a political tool, it's–"

"It's what you'd think," Hermione scowled, "You've been brainwashed by the Death Eaters."

Draco sighed. "Your House's prejudice against Slytherin, against me – who taught you that? They only tell you how many bad seeds had sprouted from Slytherin. They always fail to mention those who had chosen righteous paths. Isn't that brainwash?"

Hermione bit her lip. "But that invisibility charm–"

"What's considered a dark spell, Hermione?"

"The Unforgivables."

"Right," Draco smiled, ignoring the whistle of the kettle. "The Unforgivables, because they hurt people. Who did I hurt with my charm out there?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "No one," she muttered. Draco nodded encouragingly. "When a type of magic is made to hurt, made to be immoral, made with ill intentions, and only when that occurs is the magic considered dark," he said quietly.

Hermione sat unmoving. She shook her head. "I don't agree," she said stubbornly. Draco's hand unconsciously rose to his chest, anticipating the pain that was sure to come. Hermione didn't seem to notice. She stood with a blank expression and went to take her kettle off the fire.

Draco watched her wrap a piece of wet cloth around the kettle's handle and gently ease it out and onto the table. Draco hung his head in disappointment and self-loathing. Why didn't he think before he used that charm out there? He panicked and muttered the first spell that came into his mind. It just happens that that particular spell wasn't one taught (or approved by) the Ministry.

He looked down at his feet and realized with a start that he was still wearing his wet boots. Draco untied them and stepped out of them, leaving them lying in the middle of the floor. He hated the discomfort between Hermione and himself. The tension was grating on his patience. He stood with his back to her, rolling up the sleeves of his still wet jumper.

Hermione was still cataleptic and oblivious of her surroundings as she stared out of Hagrid's tiny window at the dancing snowflakes outside. It looked like a blizzard was on the way.

But Hermione was only concerned of the little war going on in her head. She was mildly aware of a little problem: she had no cups to pour the water in. She frowned and turned, tripping on one of Draco's boots. She caught herself in time but the kettle flew out of her hand.

Draco heard a thump and turned by reflex. A kettle came crashing down, drenching him in boiling water. Draco gasped and fell back. The pain was like a layer of skin that doesn't go away no matter how much he screamed and struggled. He felt the burn at his throat, like thousands of scorpions' poisonous stings, jabbing at him.

Hermione was snapped out of her trance by Draco's terrified cry. She grabbed the wand Draco left on Hagrid's wooden table. She hurried over to him, shouting for him to stay still. She saw raw, molted skin down the side of his face and neck, extending inside his clothing. What was it that she leant in Muggle first aid? Clothing traps heat. She pointed the wand at the boy's chest and muttered, "Diffindo."

Draco's jumper and undershirt inside were cut to pieces to reveal his chest burns, already swelling. The boy was hysterical and would not stop moving, so Hermione performed the Full Body Bind. She washed Draco's wounded areas with a fountain of water sprouting from his wand and covered him in cold, wet cloths. She then retrieved a bucket of snow from outside and spread it over the cloths to melt.

To her dismay, Draco became unconscious. Hermione panicked. What was the healing spell? Oh dear Merlin, she had forgotten it. At this time, Miss Know-It-All forgot the healing spell. What nasty timing for her mind to go out on her. "Malfoy, Malfoy! Wake up!" She called in desperation. "I forgot the healing spell, Malfoy!" Hermione barely noticed the tears that began pouring down her face. "I'm so sorry. Talk to me, Malfoy! Frown if you have trouble breathing…or better yet – sneer! DO SOMETHING!"

Draco's lips moved. Hermione put her ear to his mouth to hear him better. "Episkey…" he whispered in a rash voice. Hermione was drowned in relief. Episkey, that's the one. She heaved a deep breath, consoled, and pointed her wand to Draco's neck.

Fifteen minutes later, the two sat staring into the fire, Draco half naked and pale like the day he was born, holding a very shaken Hermione Granger in his arms. Tears were still running down her cheeks. Draco smiled, and patted her on the back. "Hey, hey. Stop crying, okay?" He cooed. She sniffed and shook her head. "I'm such an idiot…"

"No, you're not," he laughed quietly, chest shaking. "It was funny, actually."

"Funny?" Hermione snapped, looking up at him, "You almost died."

Draco smiled, "Not even close," he assured her. His eyes glazed over as he stared into the fire again. "It happened to me before…" he murmured. His voice sounded far away. Hermione looked up in surprise. "When did you…? Oh," Hermione started in realization. Right – this boy, this stranger who had fallen for her – he's not Draco Malfoy.

The boy looked down at her with a wry smile, "I'm just glad it didn't happen again."

Hermione blushed. His eyes were still on her, she could feel them. She needed something to distract him with. "Firewhiskey!" Hermione shouted suddenly, making Draco jump. He shook his head, "I beg your pardon?" He stammered. Hermione smiled and skipped over to the cabinet. "Firewhiskey," she repeated, "I heard it…um, calms the mind and revitalizes, uh, energies?"

It was a downright lie, of course, and Draco knew it. Well, it certainly seemed that he wouldn't be getting any further with her tonight. He looked away and smiled. But that's okay, he thought, he'll still have tomorrow.

---

…Hermione tipped her head back and placed her lips on to his. He tensed, and then kissed her back. He ran his tongue along her lips and kissed her many times. Hermione's arms reached up and grasped him on the shoulder and behind the head. Their tongues were dancing now, enjoying a fiery kiss of their own. His arms supported her lower back as he lifted her up in to a kneeling position.

Their lips were hot and still slightly bruised from earlier. Draco bit her gently and she sucked at his lips in return. The snow outside was really falling now. The blizzard had arrived.

Their lips parted and she gasped as his bare fingers found her skin. She moaned, sounding like she had the hiccups as she felt him harden beneath her. Her stockings were gone and her knee-length skirt was pushed up to her waist. She straddled him, running her hands over his face as his lips sent electricity flying through her wherever they touched.

Draco lowered her onto the ground and crouched over her as their lips met again. His knees were placed on either side of her, to restrain himself more than anything else. Hermione wouldn't have it. She pulled him down into her and laughed as he struggled to get up. At his moment's distraction, she pulled her legs out from underneath him and wrapped them around his waist. At this point, Draco lost it. He kissed her madly from her jaw line down to the swell of her chest where her blouse stopped him from going any further. Hermione giggled and slid down so they could see eye to eye. She kissed him lightly on the lips and Draco returned the favor.

He looked up from where he had just planted a kiss on her forehead and caught sight of a black emblem depicting a serpent and a skull on his left forearm – his death mark. He had forgotten all about it.

All sexual desires gone, Draco tensed and slipped his arm under her lower back in frail attempt to hide it. Hermione wiggled uncomfortably and sat up. She kissed him many times more before she noticed the expression on his face. He was looking over her shoulder.

Draco saw her head turn. He gulped. If he moved his arm now it would be too obvious and she would become suspicious, but if he didn't move it…the phrase "to hell and back" would become the understatement of all understatements.

Just at that moment, out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught a spark of fire that seemed a bit out of place. He quickly looked up and did a double take. One of Hermione's stockings has been set ablaze. And a half-empty barrel of Firewhiskey rolled into sight.

---

Hermione stumbled through the portrait hole and collapsed onto the ground. Ron was on her like the leech he was within seconds. "What happened, Hermione?"

"I'm right here, Ron, no need to yell," Hermione murmured. Ron swooped down and picked her up. "HARRY! HARRY! SOMETHING'S HAPPENED TO HERMIONE! HARRY–"

Hermione groaned and clutched her head. "Stop it Ron!" She wailed. Tears began to pour down her face. The next thing she knew, Ginny was whispering for her to calm down and asking what the matter was. Hermione shook her head and immediately regretted it. "Headache," she sobbed. Ginny pulled away. Hermione looked up to see a strange expression on her face.

"Do you feel nauseous too? And dizzy?" Ginny asked quietly. Hermione began to nod but stopped with a whimper. Ginny became silent. "I'm going to take her to her room," Hermione heard her tell Ron.

"But–"

"It's a girl thing, Harry. Sorry," Ginny shrugged and took Hermione by her shoulders to guide her up the stairs.

When she woke up that morning, Hermione was hit with a head-splitting pang that started from the back of her head. She rolled around the bed and eventually threw up over one side, after which she felt slightly better. And that was when she began to recall the events of the night before. All she remembered seemed to be a dream she'd had. And what an odd (and embarrassing) dream it was! In Hagrid's hut with Malfoy, doing…unspeakable things. She yawned, rubbed her head and rolled over. It was then that she realized that the bed she was in wasn't in her bed, and that the half naked form of Draco Malfoy was sprawled on the floor.

She sat up with a blood-curdling scream.

The particulars were still blurry, and Hermione prayed that they'd stay that way. If there were one person in this world who would rather die than be told the details of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger's night in Hagrid's hut, it would be her.

But having never drank before Hermione was entirely unprepared for the aftereffects that we non-prudes call a hangover. And so, she dragged herself back to the castle (her scream rocked Draco's head with a massive migraine, or else he would have ran after her), and somehow found her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ginny being the bright girl she was detected Hermione's unfortunate situation and immediately made plans to seek the truth one-on-one from the hungover Head Girl. She magicked some ice and sent an owl to Padma Patil to ask her sister to ask Lavender for the hangover-countering spell if there were such a thing. And if there were, Lavender would definitely know it. But aware of Lavender's run-in with Hermione a little while ago in Madame Puddifoot's, Ginny dodged Lavender's new-gossip radar by using the Patil sisters as the middlemen. I told you Ginny was a bright girl.

Padma got back to her with the spell – apparently there really was one – within the hour, and Hermione's pains were gone within the minute that Ginny received Padma's owl. Women are highly efficient when they want to be.

Anyways, Ginny got down to business the moment Hermione was able to open her eyes in relief of her pain. "Either you tell me what went on in the last twelve hours or I'll tell Ron you went out drinking all night in suspicious company," Ginny demanded.

Hermione stuttered something incomprehensive and shook her head, slightly amused (but mostly freaked out) by the accuracy of Ginny's careless assumption. Ginny raised one eyebrow. "You have ten seconds to make up your mind, Hermione," Ginny said, sounding much too cheerful to be threatening. "Ten, nine, eight…"

Hermione sighed. "What do you want to know?"

Ginny grinned like the Cheshire cat. "The usual. Just give me the five W's and I'll figure it out from there."

Hermione pursed her lips. She wouldn't reveal anything more anyways, because she knew that at least half of this information was going to make its way to Harry and at least a quarter would then make its way to Ron. She took a deep breath.

"Okay…uh…" Hermione frowned, trying to remember exactly what happened.

Ginny leant a little closer. "The five W's are: who, what, when, where, and why, Hermione."

"I know that," Hermione snapped. Ginny smirked. Hermione tried again. "Erm, who…there was…me?"

"Doesn't count. I know you were involved, Hermione. Someone else."

"Hmm…let me see…"

"Okay, that's it. RON!"

"NO! No, no. No…Ginny, no…okay, fine. There was…Malfoy."

Ginny reaction was that of one traumatized.

"Second W…what…uh, Firewhiskey," Hermione continued quickly. "When…late last night. Where? In, beside, and around Hagrid's hut. And why…um…why…uh, blizzard?"

As her memory bank slowly leaked the events of the night before into her brain, Hermione realized three things: one, the blizzard was no reason to behave the way she did; two, she could have said Hagrid for who instead of Malfoy, and three, Hermione realized with a blush, she had been absolutely reckless (that was her word, I would use horny) while Draco Malfoy played the part of a perfect gentleman. Of course she disregarded that entire almost lovemaking episode.

Her ritualistic life was torn and ripped to piece, and she had realized that. All with the arrival of a certain handsome young man named Draco Malfoy. Hermione knew what she was going to do now. She watched as Ginny leapt up and pranced about her room squealing the possibilities she was coming up with (all were R rated materials, I assure you). Hermione knew that she had to end her falsely instigated relationship with Ron Weasley.

---

Albus Dumbledore entered his office after a rather delightful lunch to find Hagrid waiting for him, face red in rage. "Is something the matter, Hagrid?"

Hagrid was so angry that it took him two tries before he managed to recount his story. "I jus' went home jus' now with Fang, an' I found this…" he pulled his hand out from behind him to reveal a hanged-over and still half-naked Draco Malfoy. "An' I also found tha' me new barrel of Firewhiskey was half empty. Half-empty, Headmaster! I demand a punishment."

Dumbledore raised a handkerchief to his mouth to cover either an amused smile or a shocked gasp. He said nothing and looked over Hagrid's shoulder instead, for there stood a livid-looking Lucius Malfoy.

"Well," Dumbledore began gaily, "I do believe this was the reason your son missed the train home this morning, Lucius."

A/N:

Sorry for the delay, but you know it only gets better from here.
Hope everybody recovered from the Last Book Blues. You know the story lives on. Peace.

Review and I'll make sure to update faster.