Chapter Twenty-One

Clean Hair & Facial Scruff

"Draco, don't!" Was the first thing Ginny heard as she opened the door, followed by a scandalized giggle.

Just as quickly, she pulled the door closed, again. Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, she looked to the things she carried—pyjama bottoms, a plain white t-shirt, slippers, the Invisibility Cloak, and of course, the tooth brush Draco had hollered for, along with a tube of mint paste. Really, the boys had let her have free reign of their trunks, and she grabbed what she thought he might need. Real shoes might've been more practical, but there'd be less chance of them fitting properly.

Well, he'd have to make do without underpants at the moment, but after being a ferret for a few weeks, she was certain he wouldn't mind going commando—as her Muggle-born friends referred to it—as much as he might have before all of this had happened.

Clearing her throat, she rounded her shoulders and opened the door, once more. Wincing, she lifted her gaze to Hermione's bed to find she'd forgotten the curtains were still down. A bit of the tension drained from her—though it became difficult not to tense up, again, when she heard another ripple of Hermione's laughter curl through the room.

"Ahem," she said, not wishing to surprise them, because Lord only knew what she might see, then, were she to open the curtains under those circumstances.

"Ginny!" Hermione said between giggles, her voice breathless. "This isn't . . . this isn't what it sounds like."

Frowning thoughtfully, Ginny set her bundle down on the night table beside Hermione's bed. Gripping one swath of crimson velvet in each hand, she parted them wide.

Hermione was curled into a ball as Draco, still wrapped—mostly—in the quilt tickled her sides. The oddly determined look on his face only made the entire scene more amusing.

"Okay, all right, ferret-boy, enough," Ginny said, shaking her head as she relinquished her hold on one of the curtains. Slipping her fingers around one of Hermione's wrists, she pulled the other witch straight off the bed.

To her credit, Hermione was on her feet and standing, immediately. Though, she did—also immediately—double over catching her breath, even as a few more delayed giggles escaped her.

Picking up the shirt, bottoms and slippers, she tossed them at Draco. "Here!" Letting the second curtain drop closed, she said in a stern tone that was alarmingly reminiscent of her mother, "Get dressed!"

Heaving a sigh, Ginny let her shoulders droop and turned to meet Hermione's gaze.

Her friend's chestnut eyes were wide, and her eyebrows were drawn upward. "You know, you just sounded exactly like—?"

"Yes, I know," Ginny replied through clenched teeth. "I heard it, too."

After he dressed and vanished to the currently-vacant washroom to brush his teeth and wash up a little, Hermione withdrew her quill and a roll of parchment from her bag. She sat down and uncapped a bottle of ink, before shaking her head, apparently thinking better on whatever she was about to write.

Turning on the chair, she faced Ginny. "I was going to write notes for Pansy and Professor McGonagall, but with everything going, having anything in writing might be a bad idea."

Ginny nodded. It was amusing to watch Hermione try to get her brain to work before her morning tea.

"So, informing McGonagall shouldn't be a problem, I just don't want her to be surprised when she finds us waiting for her at her office. But Pansy, try to catch her eye, let her know you need to talk to her. She's clever, she'll give her friends the slip somehow and find a way she can get to you in private."

Ginger brows shot up in surprise. "Never thought you'd say something kind about Pansy."

Hermione smirked as she gave a shrug. "Well, technically I wasn't being kind, I was only making an observation. But, yes, she's actually been shocking helpful."

"Shockingly not a nasty pain in the arse the entire time."

"Oh, are we talking about me, or Pansy?"

The girls looked toward the door to find Draco standing there. His pale blonde hair was a bit darkened, freshly scrubbed and slicked back with water. Hermione also noticed that the scruff of golden facial hair from having been unable to shave for a while was still there—she knew he didn't have a razor, but she'd figured he would improvise, somehow. She wouldn't have put it past him to nick the one she used for her legs from her trunk.

That was okay, though; she sort of liked the scruff.

"If we were talking about you, we'd have been saying something far worse, I imagine," Hermione said with a bright grin.

Draco chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped into the room and set the brush and paste on her night table. He turned back toward them, fixing his gaze on Hermione's.

Ginny's eyes snapped from Draco, to Hermione, and back. A touch of warmth flared in her cheeks as she nodded at nothing in particular. "I think I'll just . . . get down to breakfast now. I'll make sure Professor McGonagall knows to have the elves bring you breakfast at her office."

The sound of the door closing behind her seemed to echo around them. Instantly Hermione felt those silly Hippogriff-butterflies slamming about in her stomach and her breath stick in her throat.

Swallowing hard, she turned to face Draco. For a few strained heartbeats, they only stared at one another.

"Um . . . ." She shrugged, shuffling her feet. "So how do you feel now that y—?"

Draco's lips pressing to hers cut off her words. Rather than stepping back, or pushing him away, or any other thing she might've done, Hermione closed her eyes. Gripping her fists into the front of his t-shirt, she pulled him closer.

At the feel of his arms slipping around her waist, she tilted her head, darting her tongue out to trace his lips.

Draco pulled back just a little, only enough to meet her gaze. "Why, Granger, I had no idea."

She smiled, the bridge of her nose crinkling in a mischievous expression. "Oh, Draco Malfoy, just shut up and snog me!"

His dark eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Yes, ma'am."

She held in a giggle as he lowered his head once more, his tongue thrusting between her lips.

Professor McGonagall frowned as she closed the door behind them and turned to face the pair. Of course, that was much easier once Draco lowered the Cloak's hood and actually had a face to frown at.

"Your breakfast has gone cold and I was beginning to grow concerned. Whatever took you two so long to get here?"

"Sorry, Professor," Draco said, a chuckle running beneath his words. "My—my fault entirely. I was just getting a feel for—"

Granger's elbow in his side cut him off and he winced, immediately rerouting his statement. "Just getting my bearings, being human again, and all."

Hermione bit her lip, her gaze wondering the suddenly too-interesting portraits on the far wall.