She kicked her feet idly, staring up at the ceiling. Her legs were hooked over the armrest of the chaise lounge in the Room of Hidden Things.

Any time spent with Draco seemed to be spent there anymore. She could nearly always find him there, and if he wasn't, then he always showed up after some time. Her presence didn't seem to bother him, but the fact that she was nearly constantly trying to pry him for information about why exactly he was there all the time, well... that displeased him immensely.

She'd finished her Defence Against the Dark Arts homework the night before, but it appeared that Draco did not. He was sitting at the table across the clearing, having found a chair that was neither broken, nor covered in an unidentified substance.

He knew that she wanted to say something, likely many things, but was refraining from it. For the most part, it seemed as though she refused to talk unless he spoke first. Which was just as well, he figured. Half the time, if she said something, it only upset him. Or else was generally ignored.

And Remington was not a person who was easily ignored.

"Go on, spit it out." He finally told her.

"You didn't play in the match against Gryffindor last weekend." She remarked. When he didn't say anything, she pressed. "Why?"

"I was sick." He replied, not looking up from his copy of Confronting the Faceless.

It wouldn't have been hard to believe, considering that his already pale skin had taken on a rather less healthy pallor. The fact that he wasn't eating was growing more obvious; signs of weight loss were starting show. Not to mention that the dark swipes beneath his eyes had, if anything, gotten worse. But she wasn't so easily fooled.

"Right. Sick." She repeated contemptuously, then, "How dull do you think I am, Draco?"

"Not very much so at all, really." He responded honestly.

"Then why do you keep lying to me as if you think I'll believe you?" She demanded.

"Because you'll swallow the answer anyway if I don't give you the truth." He muttered.

She sat up abruptly, glaring at him. "Well if that's how it's-" She started indignantly.

"Fine, I shouldn't have said it." He snapped at her, finally looking up at her. She glared at him for a couple more moments before she fell back onto the chaise. She normally wouldn't give up so easily, but she was at a stalemate with him. If she didn't take a bit of shit, they'd just end up entirely incensed with each other.

He went back to working on his homework. She picked at a frayed seam on the backrest of the chaise.

There was a lengthy pause before she commented again. "Slughorn's having a Christmas party."

"Wonderful." Draco muttered.

"I was- kind of hoping you might want to go." She continued, twisting her head so that she could look at him.

He turned his eyes on her for a moment, debating. "I don't think I'll be able to make it." He said slowly.

Her lips parted slightly and she blinked a couple times before looking back up at the high, arched ceiling. "Oh." Was all she said.

He dropped his quill and rubbed his eyes with a hand. He hated when she did that. Got all quiet and took on an injured air. It actually started to make him feel guilty. "I can try." He said finally.

She turned her head again, just glancing at him, then looking up at the ceiling, a faint smile on her lips.

"Speaking of Christmas..." She said, "You're going home for the break, aren't you?" The question was stark, as if she already knew the answer, and wasn't entirely ecstatic about it.

"I was going to stay here, actually." He disagreed. Her eyes turned on him immediately, her expression rather brightened. It was a bit reminiscent of watching a puppy. "For most of it, anyway. I might end up forced to go home for a bit." He glanced at her. "I don't need to ask you what you're doing for Christmas."

"Certainly not." She agreed. "So it looks like you're stuck with me, Malfoy."

"Joy." He commented.

"How can't you be excited? A whole three weeks spent with very few other than ourselves in the castle." She remarked.

His eyes flicked at her. "I'd hate to think you're alluding to something."

She grinned at him, "I haven't decided yet."

He made a contemptuous sound. "You haven't decided yet?" He repeated, "And how many times have you tried to jump me?"

Her grin had faded, "How many times have you tried to jump me?" She shot back. "How do you know that's what I was getting at?" She asked a bit loftily, "Maybe I was insinuating that we should build a fort in the Slytherin common room and play tag in the corridors."

"We both know that's not what you were insinuating."

"Maybe it's just your wishful thinking."

His eyes narrowed on her. "Don't act like you don't want me in bed, Alvers."

"So we've gone from being convinced I'll sleep with you, to saying I want you." She stated.

"Why not? It's all true." He saw her open her mouth to protest, but he spoke before she could say anything. "What was that you said when we were hardly a week into school?" He inquired rhetorically, "That I was bothering you? Don't go denying it, Remington."

She scowled at the ceiling. "Why does everything come back to sex with you?" She mumbled, but the words were so quiet and poorly enunciated that Draco couldn't understand what she said. Which was entirely on purpose. She knew that it was a totally unreasonable argument.