After much extensive re-reading of the last chapter, I've stumbled upon a Truth

After much extensive re-reading of the last chapter, I've stumbled upon a Truth. My story has neither plot nor meaning and the characters are mostly OOC. So with a tap of my keyboard and a click of my brain, I've written a plot into this chapter which will develop rather quickly, leave you confused and gasping for air, but sort itself out at the end. As far as OOC goes: I like my characters this way. They amuse me greatly and I don't plan to change them. So, without further ado, Chapter Two…..(rhyme unintentional)

This chapter goes out to all the people out there who think Draco would look sexy in a leather G-String. Ugh! Startling image, that. Perhaps I'll pass on this one……

            It was Malfoy.

            For a moment, Ron couldn't decide whether he should interrupt them or just leave quietly. Then he regained his senses and walked over next to the chair in which sat Draco and Hermione, still snogging furiously.

            "Could anyone tell me where to find a book on Mandrakes?" Ron spoke loudly.

            Hermione's eyes grew wide and she jumped away from Malfoy so fast that the chair titled and rocked as she darted out of it.

            "Ron!" she exclaimed, flustered. "What're you doing here?"

            "Well I'm obviously not making out with Malfoy!" he spat back.

            Draco, meanwhile, had risen from the chair and elegantly smoothed out his crumbled robes. He now peered over at Ron and Hermione, who's quarrel had developed into quite a screaming match. He could catch bits and pieces of what they were saying: 'You have absolutely no right to tell me who I can or can't kiss!' 'I have every right when you decide to go off and snog someone like Malfoy!'

            "All this commotion over me?" Draco interrupting loudly, causing Ron and Hermione to break off and lapse into silence. "Don't I feel special."

            "YOU!" shouted Ron, turning to face him, face hot and fists clenched. "You get out of here before I beat your head it!"

            "No need for violence, Weasley," Draco scoffed, pulling his own fists into little balls. "But if you insist on a fight, I'll be happy to oblige."

            "No, you won't," said Hermione, quickly stepping in between them. She turned toward Draco. "Just go," she hissed. "Go."

            Draco let his eyes rove over her body, as if sizing her up. He took in her frazzled hair, wrinkled robes, flustered expression, and then darted a swift glance back at Ron.

            "Right, then," Draco consented. "We'll continue this later, Hermione."

            He turned on his heel and sauntered away into a sea of books.

            "Like hell you won't!" Ron called angrily to his retreating back.

            "Shut up, Ron," Hermione snapped, falling back down into the chair. She carefully lifted up a small cup of some brownish liquid from the table next to her and began to sip it slowly.

            Ron's curiosity got the better of him. "What's that?" he asked impatiently.

            Hermione looked up at him. "Coffee," she replied simply. "My parents got me hooked on it while I was at home this summer. Most Muggles drink tea, I suppose, but my parents prefer coffee. It's supposed to be horrible for your teeth, but my father says that everyone deserves at least one guilty pleasure."

            "Oh," said Ron, momentarily forgetting his anger in this new revelation. Hermione liked to drink coffee. He'd have to remember that.

Ron threw his gaze around lazily until it fell upon another cup of identical brown liquid resting on the table where Hermione's cup had been only moments before – Malfoy's cup. His anger rushed back on him forcefully.

            "What the hell did you think you were doing!?" he shouted down at her.

            Hermione jumped, surprised at his loud outburst, but quickly regained composure. "I don't know what I was thinking. I was just feeling really depressed," because of you, she forgot to say, "and Malfoy was there…and he said something about moonlight……"

            "Moonlight?" Ron asked, his face blanching. Moonlight……

            "Yes, moonlight, Ron, you heard me," Hermione spat back at him, quickly becoming angry. "And what gives you the right to be so possessive? It's not like there's anything going on between us!"

            No, Ron thought, it isn't like that at all.

            "But it's Malfoy, Hermione!" he shouted angrily. "You know, the one with the Death Eater father, the one who always calls you Mudblood, the one we hate, the one who hates us back! How could you possibly stand to have any part of his body touching yours?!"

            Hermione slammed her cup back down on the little table and jumped up from the chair. "Malfoy's not as bad as he seems, Ron! He's just misunderstood!"

            Ron scoffed back at her. "Malfoy? Misunderstood? How can you possibly believe that?"

            "Just because you hate him doesn't mean that I have to," Hermione hissed.

            "And this coming from the girl who slapped him clean around the face in 3rd year!"

            "Third year was a long time ago, Ron," Hermione whispered into the darkness, her eyes growing sullen and heavy. "A lot's changed since then. And sometimes, you just have to know when to give up and move on." With that, she turned away from Ron and walked quickly into the darkness.

            When he could no longer see her retreating form, Ron sank into the armchair that she had just departed from. The one where he'd caught her kissing Malfoy. What had she meant by 'you just have to know when to give up and move on?' Move on from what?

            Ron sighed and let his head droop down onto the armrest. It was dark now, very dark. Sleep quickly overtook him and he drifted away, far from the library, far from the chair, far from the very spot where he sat defeated and alone amid shelf after shelf of dusty books.

            In the small cup next to Ron, the coffee began to swirl on its own accord, slowly, then faster, frothing and bubbling. It turned red, then purple, then pink, and finally back into coffee once again. Ron slept on.

*****

            Hermione awoke the next morning with a splitting headache and cramps all over her body. Memories of the previous night slammed into her head like bullets and she ran to the bathroom, gagging and retching, where she threw up into the toilet.

            Why do I feel so sick, she thought as she splashed cold water over her pale face. She was very thankful that it was a Saturday, and for once in her life, had no desire whatsoever to attend class.

            Tugging a dressing robe over her head, Hermione stumbled back into her dorm room, where something large and brilliantly colored caught her eye for the first time. There, on her nightstand, were a dozen roses, not red, but a vivid shade of magenta. Letting out a rare squeal of delight, Hermione rushed over to them and bent down to take in their scent. Something sharp brushed against her nose and she peered down to see a little golden card attached with a matching ribbon to one of the flowers.

            Shifting excitedly from one foot to the other, Hermione tore the card away from the bouquet and flipped it open. She caught her breath as her eyes took in the words written on the paper with delicate dips and flourishes: 'Dear Hermione, How are you? I think we really need to talk about what happened last night. It was more or less the last thing I was expecting to ever happen to me, and I'm not sure what to think anymore. I don't know whether to be mad, or to hate you, or to - - to like you. Will you meet me in the Charms classroom tonight at 11 o'clock? – Draco'

            Up until that very moment, the mere thought of Draco Malfoy would have made Hermione want to gouge someone's eyes out with a blunt object before painfully ripping the skin from their body and tossing their rotting corpse into a pile of wildly licking flames. But standing there, reading that card, catching the faint scent of blossoming roses, she couldn't help but get little butterflies all in her stomach.

            And why shouldn't I go?, Hermione thought. It's not as if I have plans with anyone else. Besides, Draco's really…really good looking, Hermione thought with a devilishly guilty feeling. She couldn't deny that Draco was hot, but there was still something at the back of her mind that told her she preferred red-heads, and that Ron's 'Adorable' could stand up to Draco's 'Sexy As Hell' any day.

*****

            Draco Malfoy was always punctual. You wouldn't think it just by looking at him, but it was one of his more interesting qualities. Tonight would be no exception, and Draco wasted no time in throwing his cloak around his shoulders and scampering out of the common room by exactly five minutes to eleven.

            One could almost mistake that look on his face for a sly grin, but it was not so. A look of triumph? Of satisfaction? When it came to Draco Malfoy, one could never be quite certain. And tonight was no exception.

***** Oooh, Draco and Hermione are meeting secretly in the dead of night! (SCANDAL! SCANDAL!) What more could anyone ask for? (Besides a plot…and a better story…and…) All this and I haven't even touched on the Harry situation……or all of the other situations that are spinning around inside my head. But any suggestions? Who would look better together: Hermione and Draco or Hermione and Ron. I don't know, Draco may be dead sexy, but how would their children look? *shudders* That's enough for now, more to come later, and remember: Review or Die! Ciao!~ f.B.i.

DRACO MALFOY TURNS ME ON!

Come on, people, you should know by now never to take me seriously………