A/N: And when it's over. is it really over?-"When It's Over," Sugar Ray. Yes. It's over. Over, over, over. That is so incredibly despressing for me. This is the first fan fiction I ever posted on any site, and it's the first to end. I have never ended one before. I hope it's okay.

All right, a sequel? Not sure. If there is one, it probably won't be for a while, a few months maybe, because I want to focus on some of my other stories. If you like my writing, and want to read romance/humor/drama's (most are D/Hr, one is H/Hr, and one had to do with Sirius Black and Snape's sister), here's a brief summary of my stories:

Draco's 24 Hours of Life: Draco has twenty-four hours to live (chapter=hour) and he's recruited Harry, Ron, and Hermione to help him stop Voldemort from taking over-a feat that's ironically in Draco's name. He's also got his own hormonal issues to deal with-like his like for Hermione. D/HR

Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed: After an incident involving Voldemort that left Ron hanging with the likes of Malfoy, Harry and Hermione fall in love. But Harry can't forgive himself for what happened to Ron, and when Hermione goes missing, Harry, his new friends, and a few teachers with secrets must go save her. HP/HG

You, Me, and DADA: A quirky, comedic story of Charlie Snape, Severus Snape's little sister, which tells of her growing friendship *cough* with Sirius Black. But there's turmoil in the wizarding world, and Animagi are called upon to fight. Shit happens. SB/CS

Disclaimer: The whole "off" line is from "3rd Rock From the Sun.

Right, so enjoy. Thanks to everyone. You guys have been the best. Love you!!

Your humbled writed, Escritora



Chapter Summary: Lots of confusing thoughts, conflicts closed up, Lavender and Pansy get dissed, Draco is a "work of art," great food, dancing, and familiar songs. Duh nuh nuh-the end!



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Noon found Hermione, Ginny, Cho, and Jason on the 'S, a wizarding subway underneath the streets of Diagon Alley. Ginny and Jason were snuggled into a tight, plastic-like booth against a window. Cho shared a seat with a lanky teenage girl who kept darting nervous glances and cooing eyes down the rows at a rather attractive young man with spiky hair. Hermione stood in the aisle, with one arm loosely draped around a pole and the other holding an iced butterbeer that she sipped through a plastic straw.

She absently stared out the window, watching a blur pass by. She knew that in actuality the tunnel that they traveled through was a stony gray, but it was enchanted to appear like grassland meadows with fields of wildflowers and giggling, shimmering pixies fluttering every which way only to land on a flower's petals as gracefully as a the very wind itself. She was also aware that the speed of the 'S rivaled the speed of light, but its charms prevented it from feeling or looking that way; in the old days, people would get so sick that they'd pass out. The attendants didn't really care, but they weren't too pleased with the spilled drinks when people fell to floor-and the signs of, "If you're going to faint, please sit your cup down first," did little to help the situation.

It was only Hermione's second time on the 'S. She had first ridden the subway when she was fifteen and beginning her fifth year. She had shyly held hands with Harry, who had introduced her to the 'S and insisted that they take it, when Draco Malfoy had clamored aboard with Pansy Parkinson. Pansy wasn't beautiful, and her clothes were garish and tawdry, but on Draco's arm Hermione had thought she looked great.

Now, Hermione jerked up and almost spilled her butterbeer as the realization hit her. *I wonder if that's when I first felt something for him.*

And it wasn't like she had been harboring some secret crush for Draco for three years, because that was far from the truth. But there had always been electricity, a spark that boiled her blood whenever he had entered the room. Usually she disregarded her enemies and Slytherins with a dull disinterest, but she had hated him with a passion. And that was the problem, the clincher:

Passion.

A morbid feeling passed over Hermione and she shuddered, feeling her knuckles go white against her cup of butterbeer. The straw lay limp in her mouth, and she pulled it from her lips, staring down the straw like it was the centerfold of everything. She didn't want to think about this, she didn't want to feel this, and she didn't want to be here. But that's not why she had suddenly gotten the chills.

It was because she knew exactly where she wanted to be. Or, more precisely, who she wanted to be with.

Hermione didn't look out at the scenery for the rest of the ride.





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The afternoon passed in a flurry for the boys back at Hogwarts. They played countless games of Exploding Snap, bewitched Seamus' hair to act as a mood ring (it turned pink when Lavender entered the room, and a murderous black when she batted her eyelashes at an unresponsive Draco), and really did nothing but hang out. But, let's take a step back a few hours, before Ron accidentally exploded a small section of the common room and prior to the rearrangement of Seamus' blonde curls.

Draco was one step behind Harry as they bounded down the staircases, thinking about prospects of crimson robes, when Harry, stopping at the foot of the stairwell and causing a collision, blurted out, "I miss my mother."

Draco stared warily at the back of Harry's head, tentative to face the Boy- Who-Lived. He wasn't sure what he should say or what Harry would want him to say. Harry seemed to sense this, for he continued walking abruptly without turning around once. He did, however, continue talking.

"You know I once dated Hermione," Harry said, his words as hurried as his fast-paced stride. Draco jogged a little to catch up.

"Yeah, I know," he said, catching his breath at Harry's side. Harry's pace only quickened, and Draco struggled to keep up.

"Well," said Harry, pounding the stone corridors with his sneakers. "I just thought I'd remind you of that."

Draco looked quizzically at Harry, whose eyes still remained set on the path ahead. The Owlery came into vision, and questions began to rise in Draco's mind. He remembered the note they'd received at Disney Land-how odd had that been?!-and he wondered, as Harry broke into a sprint, why they were dashing to the Owlery like a kid to a candy store.

"Harry," Draco panted, clutching his lower abdomen. He had a cramp (A/N: LOL!).

"What?"

"Are you trying to... kill... me?" Draco gasped, still short on air. Harry screeched to a halt, taking Draco by such surprise that he stopped just in time of missing a brick column. "Well?" He stared at Harry Potter expectantly.

Harry frowned, meeting Draco's eyes for the first time. Draco was shocked; Harry's eyebrows furrowed darkly over his eyes that were surprisingly a piercing green. They had always been green, but they seemed so focused and determined that Draco took a step back, just to be safe. "Potter," he said, blinking rapidly. "What's going on?"

Harry averted his eyes back to the Owlery, and Draco would never admit that he felt much better with those eyes not set on him. When he spoke, he spoke quietly and calmly, and Draco listened. "I don't trust you, Draco, but I need someone with me. I don't trust you, but I think you're the only one that can handle this. I don't trust you... but I need you there, all right?"

Draco swallowed hard. He knew that he'd just have to accept what was going on, and try to figure it all out later. A revelation hit him: Not everything needs to make sense.

Which was true, he supposed, if you considered himself and Hermione. You could say opposites attract, but they weren't really opposites; then again, they were certainly not kindred spirits. Both stubborn, highly intelligent, focused, and diligent, their similar traits clashed. And their differences, mainly their attitudes and how they focused their energy and minds, were so drastically different that the combination of their similarities and contrasts should make them not only incompatible, but willing and able to murder the other with a drop of the hat. And at one time, that had been true.

Rather than contemplate it further and perhaps talk himself out of the one good thing that could possibly be going for him, Draco decided to listen to what his heart had told him. Not everything needs to make sense. *Consider me and Hermione everything* he thought grimly as he trailed behind Harry, whose run had slowed to a trot. It seemed that the boy had slowed upon knowing that the Owlery was in his sight, in his grasp, and not just in his heart. Draco's own beat slowed as his stride did, and he felt his muscles relax, tense, relax, tense in a normal pattern.

Harry paused outside the Owlery door, and Draco stood a yard back. He wanted to give Harry his space; this was obviously important or crucial for him, and while Harry might not be Draco's favorite person, he respected that. He did, however, feel awkward twiddling his fingers together and blowing air from the side of his mouth while Harry stared down the heavy mahogany door.

And then Harry was flinging it open, refusing to hold back any longer, and he stepped inside without a thought. Draco watched the door fly open and slowly begin to creak shut. *That's my cue* he knew, and he lodged a foot in the door to hold it open before pushing it back and following Harry inside.



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Harry exhaled deeply and walked tentatively across the wooden boards creating the flooring of the Owlery. He was nervous, perhaps more nervous than he would ever be again in his entire life if he lived to be 103, and he stuck his clammy hands into the pockets of his jeans. He figured that Muggle clothes might seem ridiculous to some, but at the present time it was the last thing on Harry's mind. He approached the counter. Mr. Jeepers, who ran the Owlery and did a fairly good job of it, stared down at Harry scrutinizingly from beneath thin, wiry spectacles. Harry held his breath, and only let it out once Mr. Jeepers broke into a genuine grin.

"Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise!" he beamed down at Harry, placing his palms out in a welcoming motion. "But how on earth did you know I had a parcel for you?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. *Parcel.* He shrugged, trying to downplay this. "Just a hunch," he said in a tone that he hoped sounded laid-back. He had a feeling that it came out as a choking sound.

"All right, Mr. Potter?" Mr. Jeepers wore an expression of concern beneath his bushy blonde mustache. "You look sort of pale."

Harry tried to stammer a reply when a voice from behind him made Harry realize that the second part wasn't directed to him, but behind him.

"I didn't get much sun this summer," lied the naturally pale Draco, whose cold voice did nothing to Harry but apparently chilled the Owlery keeper. Mr. Jeepers bit his lip and stepped back, and then grinned again as his big, expressive eyes were focused back on Harry.

"Well, Mr. Potter, let me just go into the back and get that package for you, all right?" Harry nodded, and watched as the man swung open a bamboo door and disappeared into the backroom.

Harry knew Draco was standing right behind him, and neither said a single word as they waited. Harry was rather appreciative of Draco; he knew the boy was calm and collected enough to be here with him, and he was right. The usually snippy remarks Lucius' only child would usually abuse were absent, and only a quiet as think as the humid air filled the Owlery.

The Owlery was like a log cabin, obviously because of what it was made of, and its interior was decorated with bamboo accents and a polished wooden floor. Cages of all shapes and sizes and colors adorned the walls and encroached on the floor space, each holding an owl, whose appearances varied as much as the cages themselves. Harry knew these to be the ones for sale-if you couldn't afford the ones at Diagon Alley, discounted owls were available (but still not cheap) at the Owlery. The school's owls were kept in the back, along with the packages that they delivered.

Mr. Jeepers' desk was the sore thumb of the room, a deep, rich cherry-wood that contrasted poorly with the rest of the room's modest décor. A few scattered Knuts, papers, and receipts looked tiny on the face of the broad desk, and Harry wondered why Mr. Jeepers had chosen such an extravagant one. Then again, Mr. Jeepers had only been working the Owlery for a year, so it was possible that the desk had come prior to the keeper.

Harry's train of thought was broken as Draco cleared his throat, announcing Mr. Jeepers' return as the bamboo door swung open and Mr. Jeepers appeared, clutching a cumbersome, modest-sized parcel tied with nude strings in a practical rather than decorative way. Harry sensed something about the parcel, even though he knew what it was and knew vaguely what it held.

He sensed destiny.



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Draco continued to stifle his curiosity as they trudged back through the main corridors of Hogwarts, but he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep the suppression up. The parcel Harry clutched like a mother with its baby was oddly shaped, poking out in weird, lumpy directions. It wasn't very large, or small enough to hold jewelry or the likes of that. Its wrapping was simple brown mailing paper with matching strings-nothing fancy.

Harry's pace didn't quicken as they approached the Gryffindor stairwell; in fact, he slowed to a stop after a few yards and turned to face Draco. "I don't want to open it in the common room for all of them to see," he explained softly. His eyes were glued to the parcel. "Do you know anywhere else we can go? Somewhere private?"

Draco was about to make a crack about being the Make-out King of Hogwarts and tell Harry that he was "unavailable for hookups," when he remembered the dire feeling of the situation. Shrugging modestly, he only said, "I suppose," and veered left of the staircase. This time, it was Harry somberly following him. Draco didn't know if he preferred it this way. He felt odd.

He didn't think Harry would appreciate opening the package in a broom closet, which narrowed down the possibilities quite steeply. The girls' bathroom was out, because not even Parvati Patil was as nosy as Moaning Myrtle, and the boys' bathroom was sure to be in use. He paused, a smile creeping on his lips, and made a sharp right. He swung open the entrance to the prefects' bathroom.

He had been in here for many a relaxing bath in both his 6th and 7th year, but Draco never did tire of the prefects' bathroom. The clear, sparkling bubbles popped like champagne along the surface of the tub, and it made quite a romantic exploit for couples. Er, or so he heard. Harry seemed bored by it by a quick study of the black-haired boy's face, and then Draco decided that he just looked tired. No, not tired: weary. Weary. That was it.

The next time he glanced over at Harry, the other boy was on the floor, already done untying nearly every string and about to rip the parcel open. Draco, in a rush of excitement and pent up wonder, knelt down beside him and eagerly awaited the unveiling of the contents.

He drew in a breath as he watched Harry, who appeared mesmerized and enthralled by what he now held, lift out a shiny black picture frame holding a photograph of a beautiful young woman with flaming red hair and sparkling green eyes. In her arms, she cradled a tiny, adorable baby with skin of silk wrapped snugly in a blanket. Her lips parted, her mouth moving gently as she sang a lullaby that Harry and Draco were deaf to. But it seemed to be working on the baby, who yawned as his tiny eyelids pressed shut and he drifted into a deep sleep. Even then, the woman kept her adoring gaze on the baby, with his tiny tendrils of black curls escaping from beneath the blanket.

Draco nearly gasped. It was Lily Potter. And she was cradling a young Harry.

He couldn't believe his eyes, but there it was, in vivid, moving colors that only a photograph can capture that accurately. The parent and her baby booth looked so peaceful, and it was in comparison to that picture that Draco realized the extent of how tormented Harry had looked as they trekked to the Owlery.

But when Draco turned his eyes from the picture to Harry, he saw the serene feeling of the photograph had been transferred to Harry, whose calm expression held a small, but visible, smile. And it made Draco smile. If Harry was comfortably sharing one of those most joyous moments of his life with Draco, then Draco would be gracious. He slung a casual, comforting arm around Harry's smile.

Harry's lips and eyes didn't move a bit as he hoarsely whispered, "Thank you."

And though Draco didn't know it, Harry was speaking to the smiling, waving young boy who floated above the bath water, who could finally find some peace, as well as Draco Malfoy.

The rest of the contents were also memorabilia of Lily Potter, the mother Harry had ever known. By the time he had finished, an hour was passed. Draco Malfoy returned to the common room with a different Harry Potter. This Harry Potter was smiling.



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With that being said, let's jump back-er, forward-to six o'clock, when Seamus' hair was dulling from a black to gray as Draco offhandedly insulted Lavender, causing the girl to slink back to Seamus' side. The rest of the boys were hysterical, Harry's newfound cheerfulness inspiring them, at that the fact that Seamus had gray hair. The Irish boy was now so bored of the game that he didn't mind. He leaned forward in his chair and jutted his chair at a blasé Draco.

"Know what time the ball starts, Malfoy?" Seamus asked him politely, absently rubbing at his wrist while crossing and uncrossing his thin, freckled legs.

"Dinner is at seven," Draco said tonelessly as he stared past Draco at a scarlet wall. Beneath it, the fireplace crackled and sparked. The orange- blue flames leapt up and danced in a circular motion, seemingly celebrating around the center flame that reached higher than its followers. Draco's stomach tossed.

"So the dancing will start at eight, then, eh?" said Seamus, upbeat, without expecting an answer. He turned to stroke his fingers along Lavender's forearm; her back arched instinctively, and Draco wondered if Seamus was ignorant or just chose to be that way about Lavender's lack of interest in him.

Draco closed his eyes, conjuring up the image of a certain girl, her thick brown curls cascading down her shoulders as she fluttered down the stairwell in a beautiful gown, cheeks stained with a natural blush from seeing Draco waiting, handsome and patient, at the bottom of the stairs for her.

He knew there was little point in daydreaming. As a very small child, he had owned two stuffed animals named Bo and La. Bo was a small purple elephant who rattled when Draco shook him and whose tag was faded and torn from another child's prior use. La was a light yellow giraffe with a torn ear and faded leather hooves.

Together, Draco, Bo, and La went on adventures to the royal Palace, to Sherman's River, and even to the Westchester Great Hall of Noblemen without leaving Draco's bedroom. Draco watched as Bo and La fell in love as they danced under the starlight of the French skies, and didn't say a thing when he spied their first kiss.

"I love you, La," Bo confessed to La as they lay down beneath the stars to watch a comet streak by.

"I love you, too," La said with a smile on her giraffe lips.

And then Lucius Malfoy stormed in, his black cloak in disarray, and demanded to know what Draco was doing. "Playing, Father," Draco had said innocently, staring up at the man with big eyes. "Bo and La are in love."

Lucius had roughly snatched up the animals from Draco's infantile arms and stomped out muttering curses, leaving a tiny Draco to scream his sobs into his pillow, muffling himself so to know show his weaknesses. Draco never saw either animal again. He grew to hate animals, in fact.

And for a long time he hated love.

His daydreams of his stuffed animals at age five from his thoughts of an elegantly dressed Hermione varied dangerously, he knew, and he tried to shake it off. Forcing himself to open his eyes and forget the picture of Hermione, he heard the portrait swing open. Hermione, Ginny, Jason, and Cho crawled through the portrait hole.



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Ginny and Jason were oblivious to Hermione and Cho's hushed whispering as the two girls walked several yards ahead of Ginny and her beau. They were just entering Hogwarts grounds, and they were much too sleepy to bother with whatever Hermione and Cho might be discussing.

"You looked so pretty in your robes, Virginia," Jason murmured into her hair as she nestled her head into his shoulder. "Beautiful."

Ginny didn't blush, but she smiled. "You looked pretty great in yours too."

Hermione leaned in closer to better hear was Cho was excitedly whispering and intently listened. "I sent them a letter... bet they were amazed...but I sure miss talking to them. I love them, y'know?"

Hermione nodded, happy for her friend. She was gladdened that she had gotten to know Cho better, and that the elder girl had trusted her with such a personal matter. After jumping off the 'S, the four had spent a lazy afternoon sipping iced coffees and gawking at the Geinuile Museum of Art, in a grander section of Diagon Alley. Hermione had been enthralled by the artwork, where favorites of hers from the Muggle realm like works of Monet, Michelangelo, da Vinci, and numerous others were in motion. Starry Night's swirls of fire exploded silently across the sky, streaking through the painting and leaving trails of dust behind. David blushed, trying to hide his exposed parts, and shivered in the corner, mouthing to anyone that would look, "Do you have a jacket? Anything?" Hermione went to hand David her windbreaker when Cho knocked her hand away.

"It's art," Cho said haughtily as if she had a clue of what she was talking about. "It doesn't know embarrassment." David seemed to think otherwise. Hermione sniggered.

The Mona Lisa was frowning. Hermione thought that quite odd and looked away quickly. It had been her favorite painting before, but seeing the disturbing smile replaced by an upset expression really soiled it for Hermione. She returned to the corner to tease a blushing David, and, with a thrill of realization, felt suddenly very embarrassed and returned mutely to Cho's side as the other girl admired a woven tapestry of refreshingly inanimate objects (squares and circles).

After exiting the museum, they had window-shopped a few stores that they swore had never been there before ("A store that sells potions! Snape would be outraged!"), hung for a few hours in the park watching a few stuntmen from the new wizarding action movie "Helmet Schmelmet" perform stunts on their Firebolt Extremes ("That's nothing! Harry could do that, and a little loop at the end too!"), and finally made faces at a few soldiers when they found themselves accidentally in Muggle London.

Quickly re-entering Diagon Alley, Cho had yanked Hermione aside and insisted that they go to the owl post. Hermione had noted the urgency in the girl's voice as she spoke of her parents, re-connecting with them, and how she really needed to send this note now or else the whole night would be ruined for her. Hermione obliged willingly, and caught a glimpse at the note.



Dear Mum and Dad, It's me, Cho. I just wanted to talk to you... and sorry. I know what happened isn't any of our faults, and we shouldn't have grown so distant. We can talk later-I'll be home soon. I've actually been touring America with Harry Potter and his friends. I remember you always wanted to go there, Dad. Maybe we'll go next summer. Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. Yeah. Love always, Cho



"Lovely," Hermione had smiled, an expression which Cho requited as she rolled up the note and attached it to the owl.

"Eight sickles," said the pimple-faced teenager, rubbing greasy hands against his roughly woven trousers and extending a cupped palm as Cho dug into her pocket and presented him with eleven shiny silver coins. "Thank you, and have a nice day," he said, as he was paid to do, and said, "Next." There was no one behind them, but Cho and Hermione distinctly heard him "helping a customer" as they left. They found Ginny and Jason rubbing noses outside ("Oh, gag me!" Cho had moaned) as the two girls erupted in a fit of giggles.

"It's something I had to do," Cho said, taking a solemn face. "I've talked to Ron about this, but it's nice to have a girl friend."

Hermione smiled awkwardly, falling in step with Cho as they trailed behind Ginny and Jason. "I'm surprised you don't have more," she said sincerely.

"You know why I don't. It's not just Pansy Parkinson who calls me the 'that Ravenclaw whore,'" Cho said, saying the last part with a sour chuckle.

Hermione felt angry at Pansy and at everyone, really. Cho was a nice girl. Sure, she hadn't been attracted to Harry, but what was wrong with that? Rita Skeeter had made it sound like she had led Harry on and then dropped him for someone better, thinking nothing of it. Only a few knew how hard it had been for Cho to see Harry so distraught.

But when Hermione had been dating Harry, she remembered secretly how she had loved to hear people whisper those things about Cho. She had hoped, while snuggling against him, that Harry heard them too. Because Hermione hated to think that he was only dating her as a second option. That had always left her feeling hollow inside as she tried to fall asleep. Now, she felt guilty thinking of it.

So now, as they walked through the fairly populated corridors of Hogwarts, she smiled at Cho and they laughed about boys and clothes and love and all those things both girls had never had a close enough girl friend to discuss it with. They linked arms as Cho told Hermione about Roger Davies' weird obsession with toenails and giggled endlessly when Hermione divulged about her Polyjuice experiment gone wrong.

"A cat?!" Cho laughed, absolutely flabbergasted. "Oh, poor you!"

"I know," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Quite the disaster."

And then Cho asked about Draco, and Hermione tensed. "Do you love him?"

"Who?" Hermione asked, knowing exactly whom she spoke of.

Cho laughed. "Draco. Do you love him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"That's okay," Cho nodded nudging her head to toss her hair behind her shoulders. "Love isn't supposed to be simple. If love was simple, then it wouldn't feel so wonderful once you figured it out."

Hermione stopped abruptly, blinking. "That's right, I suppose."

Cho stopped a few feet ahead of her. "Coming?"

Hermione nodded and walked forward, suddenly very aware of the steps of her feet inside her Skechers. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Left. Left. Right. It was confusing her, and she didn't know why suddenly she felt so flustered. It was then that she noticed she was on the stairwell, too, and somehow Ginny and Jason had passed them and them and Cho were staring at Hermione strangely and asking if she was all right.

"Fine," said Hermione. "Just a little faint, that's all. What time's it?"

"Six," Cho said immediately, a trace of concern in her voice. "Are you sure you're all right? Maybe you should lie down."

"Perfectly fine," Hermione said briskly. "We eat in an hour. Do we wear our dress robes to dinner?"

Ginny nodded. "I should think so. It's a fancy occasion, and Harry said we dance right after."

"All right," said Hermione, wondering why her voice was so high-strung at the moment. She turned to the Fat Lady, who strummed a harp and did a rather torrid job of it. "Sniveling snogs," she said, and the Fat Lady stopped playing and swung aside.

In the common room, she saw, Harry, Ron, and Draco were gathered with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Lavender Brown. Harry, Ron, and Dean were in near tears from laughing, Seamus affectionately rubbed an unappreciative Lavender, and Draco sat disgruntedly in a comfy chair twice the size of him. Seamus' hair was gray. How odd.

Lavender seemed to be the first to take notice; eager to jump away from Seamus, she bounced up and grinned phony smiles at the new arrivals. "Hermione!" she squawked with arms wide open. "Come give your girl a hug."

Hermione heard Cho muffle laughter on her sleeve. "Lavender," Hermione said icily, instead focusing on Draco. He hadn't moved the slightest muscle since they had entered, but his eyes had shot at them and were now stuck to Hermione. She fidgeted. Lavender appeared to take the hint and shrank back.

"I'll be upstairs with Parvati. My FRIEND," Lavender said haughtily, marching towards the stairs. Seamus watched her go longingly. Without either of their knowledge, Hermione and Draco rolled their eyes in unison.

"Did you buy dress robes?" Harry asked, eyes popping up brightly as he calmed down enough to speak. His eyes settled on the brown paper bags they each held. "Oh, let me see!" he exclaimed, jumping up.

"No!" Ginny protested, snatching her bag away from his reach. "It's a surprise. You'll see it when everyone else does." Hermione and Cho nodded. Harry sank back into the chair, defeated, but still keeping bright spirits.

"We really should get ready," he said to no one in particular.

"Yeah," Ron said, the single word rolling off his tongue like it took a great deal of effort that he was resentful to give. He heaved himself up from the chair and he and Harry sauntered to the boys' stairs. Harry turned to face Draco.

"Coming?"

Hermione looked narrowly at Draco. "You're getting ready in here?"

Draco nodded mutely. Hermione sniffed.

The blonde staggered up and trudged up the stairs after Harry and Ron.

"We really should, too," Hermione said, nodding towards Ginny, Cho, and Jason. "Jason, why don't you go with the boys?"

"All right then," he said, as if it hurt to part with Ginny, and disappeared up the stairs.

"Wait, Hermione!" Seamus called, standing up from his chair and taking a few steps in their direction.

"Yes, Seamus?" she replied, slightly annoyed.

"Can you fix my hair?"

She laughed softly in a way that no one understood. "Of course."



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Ron gave Jason a half-hearted welcome as the dorm door creaked shut. Ron, running his fingers through his scruffy red hair, paced the length of the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Dean was shaving and loudly complaining about all that was wrong with after- shave and taking up precious mirror space from Harry, who was scrubbing his face, intent on making it perfectly clear. Seamus was in the shower crooning off-key to the Weird Sisters' biggest hit, "A-Primary-Color-Other- Than-Red-And-Yellow Moon." Draco was combing his hair in the very last corner of the bathroom, and Jason added to the mix, trying to figure out where each arm went in his robes.

Needless to say, it was hectic.

And needless to say, everyone was about to kill Seamus.

And needless to say, Ron didn't have much floor to pace.

Giving up, he turned to spit into the sink and barely avoided spitting on Harry, whose body hovered over the second sink. The first was taken over by Dean. Ron sighed and spit on the floor.

Eventually they gave up and turned to their dear wands. Dean had to fix his cuts with a healing charm, Harry cleared up his barely visible pimple with a cleansing spell, and-well, actually, Draco just spruced his hair up with a little gel and looked smugly at the other two, who followed that expression by immediately pantsing Draco. The smug smile was replaced by a look of perturbed vengeance.

"A-Primary-Color-Other-Than-Red-And-Yellow Moon, you saw me standin' alone

Without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own

A-Primary-Color-Other-Than-Red-And-Yellow Moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me sayin' a prayer for

Someone I really could care for..."

It was Seamus' second round of the song, and Dean and Harry went on to fling the shower curtain open, and before Seamus could say, "What the-?!," he was being tossed out of the shower and landed on a glob of toothpaste. A nudity fetish? Highly likely.

They primped and they polished and they gasped at nude Seamus. But that was nothing-and I meant that word to the fullest extent-compared to the happenings of the girls' dorm.



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"If I can't find my Young Witch's Zine's Hair-Do Special Edition Pull-Out, there is going to be hell to pay!" threatened an all too serious Parvati Patil, hopping through the dorm with one high-heeled shoe on and a mascara smudge running down her left cheek. No one doubted her words; it wasn't the first death threat made in that very dorm in the last few minutes.

"It's right here," said Ginny, yelping blood murder as she closed the curling iron on her ear (A/N: I've done this before. Holy shit, it hurts.) and jumped a foot. As this happened, she dropped the thin leaflet that she had been unenthusiastically waving and Parvati immediately swooped down to snatch it up and blustered back into the bathroom, where Lavender was urgently flipping through a book that appeared to be all about make-up charms.

"Out of the way, sister," Parvati snarled, basically shoving the slighter girl out of her way and scrutinizing herself in the mirror. She picked up a limp lock of her dark hair and frowned. "Hermione!" she screeched. "Come help me with this!"

"I'm busy," came a muffled reply from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Fine, but if I get this spell wrong, the blood's on your hands!"

Standing over her former bed, Hermione shuddered at these words before rolling her eyes and shrugging it off. Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati had shared this dorm for the past seven years (there had been an uneven number of 7th year girls, and there wasn't a fourth member of the dorm, but Ginny had spent all of her time in it anyway) and usually got along fine. Except, that is, on big nights.

Hermione remembered the night Parvati had planned on losing her virginity. Parvati had nearly strangled her to death as she closed her fingers around Hermione's throat until only a squeak could escape from her lips. *No* Hermione knew with a wry smile. *This is calm compared to some other events.* Cho seemed surprised. *The Ravenclaws must be more civilized. Then again, isn't anyone?*

She obviously didn't know what was going on in the boys' dorm.

Hermione stood at the foot of her bed, staring at the dark green gown-like dress robes she had picked out that lay out on top of her comforter. It was beautiful, truly, and she didn't doubt that for an instant. But green... *I can always change its color. It's not too late.* But instead of reaching for her wand, she turned to Cho.

"Can you help me into this?" she asked.



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The hair-do Parvati magicked went to plan-well, Parvati's plan, anyway. Hermione and Cho secretly thought it look like Hell on a scalp. Or at least a diseased Persian cat. Anyway, she ended up not trying to kill Hermione, so that was a plus. When Lavender and Parvati finally emerged from the bathroom with overdone make-up and Parvati's hair resembling a sickly cat, Ginny, Cho, and Hermione bustled in, hurrying. By then it was a twenty to seven; the other 7th year Gryffindor girls were quite high-maintenance.

The results from the charm books Parvati and Lavender had used was garish and tawdry, and so Ginny and Cho turned to Hermione. "Please," Ginny begged. She would've been on her knees, but she didn't want to ruin her robes. "C'mon, Hermione! You look pretty at all the balls, you just have to help us!"

Hermione gave in, using a few simple enhancing make-up charms on Ginny's naturally beautiful face and giving a respective treatment to Cho. They both were very pleased, and even more so when Hermione was talked into helping with their hair. Both kissing her on the cheek, they raced downstairs to meet their dates.

Finally alone in the bathroom, Hermione sighed. She had only ten minutes and should be buzzing through charms like lightning, but instead she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes softly, just clearing her head and feeling... well, feeling something, may it be numbness. "What's happening?" she said to the vacant room, blowing some air out of the corner of her mouth. "It's too complicated. I can't do this."

"Love isn't supposed to be simple. If love was simple, then it wouldn't feel so wonderful once you figured it out." Cho wasn't in the room, but her words were, and Hermione sighed even more deeply than before. *I suppose so.* And she set out to make herself look presentable.



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Draco knew the Gryffindors were staring at him in his scarlet robes, but he didn't care. He slowly stepped down the stairs, a comfortable distance of a yard or two between him and the other guys as he whistled absently and drummed his fingers against the walls of the stairwell.

Up ahead, Harry wore dark blue robes with gold stitching, Ron's dress robes were a rather unattractive, murky brown (but at least it had no tears), Seamus was dressed in burgundy and mustard (the color, not the food, although I'm sure it's possible), and Dean's robes were a burnt red-orange. They all wore proud expressions, Draco noted, as if they wore fancy outfits every day. It had once been true for Draco, and he liked to think that he knew the facial expression well. Either way, he didn't think it was becoming on any of them. They were simply four scraggly boys, and Draco laughed. And it had nothing to do with Dean being a Muggle-born or Ron being poor or Harry being famous or Seamus being a half-blood.

Three years ago, that last sentence would have looked a lot different. If you know what I mean, that is, and I'm sure you do.

They reached the foot of the stairs to see Lavender and Parvati dawdling around like two little girls who had dug into their mums' make-up cases and turned out looking like two gawdy clowns. Nah, Draco wouldn't bare clowns that insult. It was a shame. Parvati and Lavender were pretty enough girls, but they had really topped themselves this time. With make-up, that is. And was that a cat on Parvati's head? Draco knew he was being insufferable, but it really did resemble a Persian. With that thought, something ran through his veins-other than blood, of course.

"Dean!" Parvati shrieked dramatically as she flung her arms around Dean Thomas. She wore shocking pink robes that looked well enough. Draco chuckled at the sight of Dean, and knew exactly what he was thinking. *Someone was attacked by the eyelash curler.*

It would be too nice to say Lavender took a more subtle approach in approaching Seamus. Without a care she walked straight up to him and demanded to know where her corsage was. "I-I don't have one," the poor git stammered. Draco cringed for him.

"What?!" Lavender said flatly. "I'm breaking up with you."

Seamus was speechless. No one else was surprised. Lavender had been looking for the tiniest excuse to dump Seamus. She had World War III with him after he dropped a book near her shoe. And that shoe wasn't on her foot.

"Oh, Dray-co," she said in a singsong voice as she sidled up beside him. "You don't have a date for the dancey-wancy, do you?"

"First off," said Draco stiffly. "Remove your fingers from my chin. Don't touch me. Second, I can speak English just fine. I'm not a baby, and I don't need to be cooed to. Third, I wouldn't go with you if you looked like Cindy Crawford with twice the bra capacity and a brain the size of Weasley's head."

Ron only looked slightly miffed. Lavender was unaffected. "Oh, c'mon," she said sickeningly sweetly. "I know you want to."

"Since I said nothing to prove that point," Draco continued, his cold tone never letting up. "You must have been reading my mind."

Lavender nodding knowingly. "A psychic connection," she said breathlessly.

"But-" There was always a but. "-my thoughts mirrored my words, and may have been more severe for the sake of tact, so we can rule that out. Not even my Lobedo was thinking anything remotely close to what you insist is true, because you look like an abstract painting with far too much paint and not enough substance. Are we clear yet?" He yawned.

The boys clapped with the exception of a dazed Seamus. Lavender's jaw dropped as low as the cut on her robes. And that was pretty damn low. Everyone was waiting for her to slap him. Even Draco was expecting it. But what he wasn't expecting was this:

"Pingo," she said lightly. No one had seen her sweep her wand from beneath her robes, but that didn't matter because now all eyes were on Draco's face.

Why, the reader might ask. Because Lavender turned Draco's pale complexion into an abstract array of colors. As he touched his own face, yellow paint came away on his hands. He stared at her, incredulous. "Haughty bitch," he breathed.

"Who's the abstract painting now, Draco?" she said syrupy, stepping beside Seamus.

"I was wrong," Draco said slowly. "You're not a painting. You're a modern- day sculpture."

"How so?" she asked vainly.

"Cheap, plastic, trashy, and usually priced at a few bucks. At the most."

When the boys clapped this time, Seamus joined them enthusiastically. "Seamus," said Lavender, annoyed and bored. "I'll go to the dance with you."

"No way," Seamus said firmly, and Ron clapped him on the back.

They were still laughing as she stormed through the portrait hole.

"Wait, Lav!" called Parvati, and she ran after her. Dean shrugged. He obviously wasn't devastatingly heart-broken either.

Draco rubbed his face again. This time, he came away with blue on the palms of his hands and purple tingeing his fingers and encrusted underneath his nails. "My wand's in the dorm. I'm going to go clean up, okay?"

Harry promptly nodded, looking strangely official with his confirmation in such formal attire. "Shall we wait for you?"

Draco frowned and shook his head. "No need. I'll meet you at dinner."

"Right," Harry said, giving Draco another business-like nod.

Draco jogged up the first two steps, and then stopped. Slowly, he trotted back down.

"What?" Harry asked, crooking his neck to the side.

"Save me a seat at the Gryffindor table, will you?"

Harry smiled broadly. "Can do."

And with a swift nod, Draco turned and climbed back up the stairs.



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Ron's smile turned to a silent gasp as Cho Chang descended the staircase. He knew that he knew how to talk, of course, but words escaped him. She wore a delicate turquoise gown, much too elegant to be any normal dress robes, and sparkling flats that shimmered with every slow-motion step that she took. Her black hair was twisted simply but breathtakingly into a twist secured at the back of her head, parted to the side and shining with a glow that couldn't be natural, but seemed to be. And her skin... He had never seen anyone look like that. Ever.

"Ron," said a voice, and he realized that he hadn't blinked or closed his mouth in minutes. "Ron, are you all right?" asked that familiar, beautiful voice.

"Cho," he said spacily. "You shouldn't look that gorgeous."

She chuckled mirthfully. "Why not?"

"Because I'm going to pass out from standing a foot away from you," Ron gasped, still unable to focus on her. "Imagine the damage you'll do when we dance."

She smiled playfully, batting long lashes like a siren in his direction. He gulped. "What make you think that we'll dance?"

His eyes finally made their way over to hers, and he smiled. "If we were to dance," he corrected, tracing the line of her lips with a delicate finger.

"Oh, gag me!"

For a moment there hadn't been anyone else in the room for Ron and Cho, but that ended with three words from Dean Thomas. "Get a freakin' room. It's way too hot in here."

Ron blushed crimson and put his arm tightly around Cho's shoulders. "I have something prepared to say to you, Dean."

Dean smirked. "Oh, a speech?"

"Yes," Ron said authoritatively. "It's a short speech. Only two words."

"Really?"

"Yes. And the second word is 'off.'"

Cho laughed first, and then Dean grinned and shook Ron affectionately by the shoulder. "We've raised you well, Weasle," he laughed.

"Oh, so NOW you take the credit." Someone tapped Ron on his spare shoulder. He spun to see a rather uncomfortable Jason. "What's up, Whitaker?" he said cheerfully. On Jason's arm was Ginny, looking testily at her older brother.

Jason cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, um, well..." Ron stared expectantly at him. Ginny jabbed Jason, who in turn winced. "I just wanted to, uh, tell you that, uh, I will take good care of, um, Virginia, and we'll, erm, have a , uh, good time. I mean, not good time, as in GOOD time, but, like, yeah, we'll have fun. Um, not that kind of fun, but intentions-good-fun-not fun- uh-punch bowl-socks-"

Ron held up a hand to stop Jason as the nervous guy rambled endlessly. "Quiet," he said, and Ginny and her boyfriend tensed. Ron could sense the hidden message from Ginny: "RON, DO NOT SCREW THIS UP!"

It was to both Ginny and Jason's surprise when Ron only laughed heartily and exclaimed in a booming voice, "Man, are you whipped!" And after the pleasantries were exchanged and laughs had been have, Ron watched his little sister and Jason walk, arm in arm, through the portrait hole and only felt a twinge of worry.

"I'm proud of you, Ron," Cho spoke to him.

Ron nodded. His Adam's Apple bulged and settled back.

"She looks so beautiful tonight," she said, giving Ron a squeeze on the shoulder.

"Yeah," he replied throatily, hugging her close. His sister looked amazing, in a light, floaty yellow dress of satin and lace, and he had to admit that Jason coordinated in a light, airy blue. Her hair was loose in curly waves that cascading to her mid-back, and her bronzed glow showed up any other girl there-except maybe his girlfriend, he supposed. He was proud of Ginny. He didn't know why, but he really was.

"You're sister is one fit bird," whispered Dean into Ron's ear.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, THOMAS!"

"Oh, dear," Cho sighed as Ron ran off to "murder" Dean. Turning, she called to Ron, who was currently involved in pummeling Dean by the couch. "If you think I'm going into the ball with you if you have blood on your robes, you have another thing coming!"



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Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror. She wore a blank expression-no smile, no frown-and looked into the eyes of the face that stared back. The truth was, she didn't know if she should smile or frown or whatever, because love wasn't simple. And it wasn't supposed to be.

Her gown was as beautiful as it had been in the store, having lost no allure, and the risk of wearing green thrilled her insides with a high nothing could match. She had dusted a light taupe shadow on her eyes and painted her lips with a mellow strawberry lipgloss. She would have worn blush, but it didn't feel right to her-she was already flushed with stress. Simple silver studs dotted her ears as her only jewelry besides the delicate silver chain hanging around her throat, a silver heart pendant at the end.

She had done her make-up as Muggles would, because although magical make-up was undeniably gorgeous, there was always such an artificial feel to it-not to her skin, but to the wearer. Hermione had only brought a little bit to Hogwarts.

And if she hadn't been pressed for time, she may or may not have done her hair herself as well. Instead, shooting a nervous glance at the clock on the wall, she flicked her wand. "Crinis," she whispered, and felt her thick brown hair lift from the back of her neck. A dizzy rush fell over here, and left her with an updo. Her hair was crisply curled, held loosely against her head in a bun, with a loose tendril framing each side of her face. It looked good, she supposed, and then she stared into the mirror.

She realized that she was going to be late, but she felt like she shouldn't leave the bathroom just yet. *I wonder if Draco will be waiting for me.* She could picture him at the foot of the stairs, looking annoyingly handsome with a set jaw and clean-cut robes. Suddenly, without the clarity she was searching for, Hermione was dashing through the dorm so fast that she forgot her shoes, spun back, and then raced down the staircase as fast as her heels could take her.

In vain.

Because there wasn't a single soul in the common room, no a single noise coming from the boys' dorm, and not a single annoyingly handsome boy with a set jaw and clean-cut robes. Hermione's face fell.

She quietly left.





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Draco scowled into the mirror. For a twit, Lavender sure had spent a lot of time mastering this spell. "Finite incantum," he hissed for the umpteenth time. Nothing happened. He wasn't sure why the spell wasn't ending, but it was grating on his nerves.

He had a back-up spell, but he was reluctant to use it. It was only temporary. *But that will give me enough time to go to the dance, and then later harass Lavender for the counter-spell.* It was decided. "Dimidium," he muttered, flicking his wand and then pointing it to his face.

It only took a moment, and his face was as pale and uninviting as always. *Hm. It cleared up my scar from 1st year* he noticed pleasantly. *Shit! It's five past seven.* He was going to be late, and then he wouldn't get to ask Hermione in the common room to the dance formally, like he had planned to. Unless. Unless maybe she was slow or something.

With that distant hope, Draco sprinted down the stairs and skidded to a halt as he tumbled onto the carpet and barreled into the couch. He quickly scanned the common room; no one was there. Frowning, he turned to leave and then stopped, listening. He thought he heard footsteps in the hall, but they disappeared. Shrugging, Draco put on an annoyingly handsome face and a set-jaw and dusted down his clean-cut robes. (lol, yes, I'm doing that on purpose.)

He had to duck to crawl through the portrait hole from his elevation of 6'1" and nearly fell into the outside corridor. A group of passing Ravenclaws looked at him strangely, but Draco took no notice and walked on.

He was hungry, he realized, and wondered when the last time was that he had eaten. *June 14th, at Owl's.* His stomach growled even more roughly at the thought of that, and Draco moaned. He knew was all too lucky-if he had gone through with it with Charlotte, well. There wouldn't be much chance for him with Hermione. He didn't know if there was even now.

"Draaaaaco!"

He froze and groaned more grievously than ever before. "Pansy," he said politely, not bothering to stop as he listened to the quick pitter-patter of her Mary Janes on the stone floor behind him. She caught up, grabbing his shoulder and stepping way too close for comfort.

"What is it, O Trashy One?" he drawled, barely able to contain his boredom.

Pansy's eyelids fluttered; Draco didn't think the comment registered in her miniscule brain. "I've missed you so much," she cooed.

"Really," he said nonchalantly. "I was about to say the opposite."

She laughed the most pressing laugh Draco had ever heard. It was like nails down a blackboard. And these are witches nails we're talking about, people! "Oh, Draco, you're so silly. Draco, Draco, Draco."

"I was about to see if you could say my name three times fast but I see you've already got that mastered. Adieu." She stopped him by the shoulder again, and he turned with an irritable frown. "What?" he snapped, tapping his black leather shoe impatiently against the stone.

"Do you have a date for the dance?"

"Perhaps."

"Take me, then!" she squealed, jumping on his arm, and Draco had a feeling she wasn't just talking about the dance. Her raggedy brown hair stuck matted to her head in a 'do she probably considered trendy, and her lime green dress was not only flashy and in bad taste, but rather sleazy.

"Get off me."

"You don't mean that."

"I mean it with all of my heart."

"Notice how when you talk to me, the word 'heart' pops in."

"What, I forgot to mention the nauseous pit in my stomach?"

She pouted, stomping a fussy foot. "Are you going to go with me or not?"

Draco stared at her. Incompetence in its prime. "Let me put this in words that you will understand," he said slowly. "NO." And he stomped off before he could be pursued further.





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"And I can be your sorceror baby/I can charm away the pain/And I will stand by you forever/You can take my pants away..."

And the rest of the girls wondered why Hermione wasn't into "pop" music. This frothily ridiculous song greeted her as she graced the Dining Hall with her presence.

It was elegantly decorated, even more so than she had expected. The walls and ceiling were enchanted a midnight blue, glowing, realistic stars dotting the "night sky" in a heavenly appearance. It was so real, that Hermione had to keep herself from reaching out to feeling it and ruining the illusion.

"Hermione, over here!"

At the Gryffindor table, Harry waved her over. He had to shout over the obnoxiously loud music. That table was easily recognized in crimson cloth, and seemed empty with only the graduating class filling its seats. Beside Harry sat Ron, and on the other side of Ron was Cho. Ginny sat across from Ron, with Jason across from Cho. Dean and Seamus held an intent conversation across the table, Dean next to Cho and Seamus beside Jason. Hermione took the seat across from Harry with a grateful smile.

"Hey," he said easily. "The food'll be here-now." He broke into a sheepish gin as the food popped up on the table, as if on cue, surprising himself and nearly everyone else in the room. "Wow," he mouthed. The food looked incredible, and he was starving.

Harry looked up and his grin slid off his face. Hermione was staring colorlessly at her food, uninterested and preoccupied. He never knew what to do when she wasn't doing perfectly fine, because he was, well, a guy. He shifted, uncomfortable and unsure, in his seat and set his napkin on her lap. "What's wrong?"

She lifted her head up, and it's possible that he may have received an honest answer. But the doors flew open, and Draco Malfoy stomped into the common room, throwing wild looks around. He went to wave to him, but stopped. "Hermione," Harry said cautiously.

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay if Draco sits with us."

She shrugged. "I don't care."

"Draco!" Hermione watched as Harry smiled and waved and felt a glumness inside of her boil. He really did look handsome. Annoyingly handsome. And his jaw was set. And his robes were tidy and clean-cut and... scarlet?! She blinked. In spite of herself, she felt a smile creep onto her lips as she gawked at Draco's choice of robes and wondered if it was a good or bad thing that she had a shawl wrapped around her own to mask the color.

Draco, noticing Harry and ignoring Crabbe and Goyles' shouts from the Slytherin table, made a beeline for the seat next to Hermione, diagonally from Harry. "I see that your face cleared up," Harry noted, taking a scrumptious bite into his gravy-soaked turkey and swallowing it with a blissful smile. He nearly pounced on the biscuit that loitered at the outer rim of the plate.

"Your face?" Hermione asked, scrunching her eyebrows together in confusion.

"Yeah," Draco nodded solemnly as he raised his shoulders and let them sag back down. "Lavender had a hissy-fit. Only temporary solution though." He stuck a forkful of peas in his mouth, leaving Hermione dazed and confused.

"Right," she said, not bothering to pry further.

"Nice shawl."

"Nice robes."

Draco laughed, green peas mashed on his tongue. "I thought you'd appreciate that."

"Me?" She seemed skeptical.

"Yeah, you," he said. "I've only got you to impress." He swallowed his peas in one gulp. "You think I care what the Slytherins think?"

"Well, I-well, no, but-"

"Give it up," Draco said calmly, shoveling another spoonful of peas in the direction of his mouth. "You know I'm crazy about you. Don't act like you don't, because I told you." He spoke louder and louder, Hermione blushing more furiously with every word. He had drawn the entire Gryffindor table's attention, and a few Slytherins were whispering and pointing in their direction.

"Draco, I-well, yes, but, then-and, uh, see-"

"I'll be going to chat up my favorite pasty-faced Slytherins. We'll dance," he said to Hermione dismissively as he swooped up from his seat and strode calmly over to join the Slytherins.

She was still stammering as he walked away.

"What the hell was that all about?" Seamus was the first to break the silence that had settled over the Gryffindors.

Ron's eyes crinkled with laughter. "Draco's got it bad for Hermione."

Hermione blushed fervently. "No!"

"He just said he did," Dean said wryly.

"Well, yes, but... oh, I don't know. It's not that simple." She probed her turkey with her spork. "And it's not supposed to be," she added under her breath.





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"C'mon, Mione!" Harry cupped his hand around his mouth to yell over the loud volume of the music. "This is my favorite song!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. Again. "You say that about every song!" she yelled back, doubting he heard her. They stopped towards the center of the floor and danced-to the best of their ability, that is.

The music was fast and pounding and Hermione's flush that she had counted on had come through, if you'd call it that. She'd been dancing up a frenzy with Harry for the past two hours to every fast song that came on. However, as a slow song's beginning chords were strummed, he would awkwardly shift away, abandoning her in hopes of bettering the chance of Draco asking her to dance. He never did.

"She's gone crazy, she's the worst, she's hit me with the worst kind of curse, she's lovely and ever so strong, I've wanted her for so long, it's hazy, I need her so, I beg her please not to go, but she doesn't love me and I'm so wrong, she cursed me, and she cursed this song..."

"The Curse," the Brooming Barbarians' biggest hit yet, was blaring louder than any other song of the night. The disco lights were flashing like crazy all over the place, and Hermione's head swarm in a pleasant, intoxicated sort of way. She saw Draco across the floor, spinning around Kate McCallister in dizzy circles, and she frowned. His expression wasn't happy or sad or anything, but it seemed like he was concentrating. How oddly confusing.

Hermione was so absorbed that she didn't notice that Harry was screaming the lyrics in her ear. "I love her, she's go grand, but I just can't understand why she, did this to me, I don't want to, but I'm spinning free..."

"Hermione, you all right?"

"I'm cool."

"Sure? Want to get some air?"

She nodded, and reached for his hand as he made a way through the masses of dancing, jumping, spinning, and whooping people.

Draco bit his lip, watching them go, and nearly dropped Kate onto the floor. The Slytherin didn't seem to notice, so Draco kept dancing, kept trying to pretend he was focused on her white-blonde hair and blood red lips, kept trying to ignore the thoughts of his mind:

What the hell am I doing?

What does she want me to do?

What am I supposed to do?

What is she going with Potter for?

And, Ouch, McCallister needs dance lessons.

He wasn't sure that Hermione wanted to talk to him after everything, and kept his distance, but it was getting difficult.

Thud.

Oops. This time, Draco really had dropped her on the floor. He shrugged and bent to pick her up when he stopped. She stared up at him. Draco didn't see a girl; he saw an obstacle. And he casually stepped over her and towards the exit.

Outside, Hermione and Harry settled on a white stone bench in the courtyard. Harry shot her a nervous glance; he wasn't sure how to handle this. He was surprised as she drew her knees tightly against her chest and sighed, dress robes and all.

"You know I hate him sometimes, right?"

Harry said nothing. He fiddled with the cuffs of his robes.

"And the funny thing is, I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Can't hate him," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, of course, it wasn't. "In fact..." She smiled at Harry, breaking off her sentence.

"Remember when we dated, Harry?"

He nodded, smiling warmly.

"I liked you a lot. You were-and still are, of course-kind, brave, loyal, earnest, smart, funny, and a wonderful friend."

"You too, of course," he said for lack of anything better.

She waved that comment away, continuing. "So it made sense that I cared about you so much. But think of Draco." Hermione scowled, flicking a tendril of hair from her face. "He's an arrogant, hot-headed, conceited, unfeeling smart-aleck of a git."

Harry couldn't help but agree. "But..." He began for her.

"But," she said promptly, "he's also really sweet... sometimes," she added quickly. "And smart. And he messes up, but he makes up for it."

Harry nodded. "He's a diamond geezer."

A moment passed, and Harry swiveled on his arse to face Hermione. "So you fancy him?"

Hermione shook her head fiercely. "I don't."

"Oh."

"I'm in love with him!" And she threw her arms around Harry's neck.

Harry nearly choked with surprise, whether it was Hermione's abrupt embrace or the sudden exclamation. She pulled apart, staring at him with big, excited eyes. "Isn't that amazing?"

"Quite," said a male voice that was clearly not Harry's.

They both turned to see a calm-looking young man.

In fact, he was an annoyingly handsome boy.

With a set a jaw.

And clean-cut robes.

"Draco," Hermione whispered.

"Harry, a moment if you will?" Draco said, not exactly a question and strode quickly across the courtyard towards them. Harry nodded profusely and ran off in the direction of the Dining Hall, shooting a few glances at them over his shoulder.

And suddenly the collected man turned into an earnest young boy as he took both of Hermione's hands in his own and stared into her eyes, not daring to blink. "You mean that, Hermione? You love me? Because if you're screwing with me, say it now."

"I'm not."

"I know."

"Then what was that little speech for?"

Draco shrugged. "It seemed like a nice effect."

And he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until the Hufflepuffs burst out, whispering and pointing excitedly and the new 1st years sang a few rounds of the "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" song and Kate burst into tears and Dean asked if Draco was going to be needing a frenchie (condom), because he had one somewhere or other and it would be no trouble and McGonnagel threatened to take points and realized there were no houses for them and Snape turned the sprinklers on and Dean actually did get a condom and waved it in front of Draco's face and Draco turned blue in the face, literately, as the temporary spell wore off.

Then, they broke apart, and the Hufflepuffs, 1st years, Kate, Dean (condom in hand), McGonnagel, and Snape stared at them as if they were waiting for a bomb to go off or something.

"What?" Draco asked, smudging a lipgloss print on his cheek with a wipe of his sleeve. No one blinked. "Oh, as if you weren't expecting it!"

This satisfied most of the crowds, who slowly shuffled back into the Dining Hall (with the exception of the 1st years, whom Snape took it upon himself to escort back to their dormitories). Draco and Hermione lagged behind, lazily leaning on each other and falling even more madly, insanely, and crazily in love.





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While the reader is probably eager to know what happened next, it goes as follows:

Dean still has that condom; no, he didn't get any use out of it himself.

Kate only cried for dramatics. It attracted a kindred spirit, Hugh Roles, and they danced away the rest of the evening without him dropping her on the floor once.

McGonnagel and Snape exchange funny looks in the hallway. I swear.

The Hufflepuffs didn't mature yet.

Neither did the 1st years, but we'll give them a decade or so.

Draco sought out Lavender and threatened to drop her curling iron in the lake if she didn't reverse the spell. She did so immediately.



While this is interesting in its own way, it really doesn't pertain to the main story. So, instead, the writer will present you with this scene that happened as the dance carried on.





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"No!" Hermione cried.

"Yes!" Draco yelled even louder.

They were in tears from laughing, and he was dragging Hermione onto the stage. "I refuse!"

"Too bad!"

"Draco!"

"Hermione!"

"Draco. Oh, come on. Not the puppy eyes. No, not the mutated tadpole eyes either. Stop! No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Oh, fine," she obliged. "One condition." And she grabbed the microphone before he could question what she said. "Hullo," she said to the crowds, receiving a mildly enthusiastic response. "For karaoke, Draco and I are going to be joined by our friends Harry Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Cho Chang. Come on up, all."

Draco stared at her quizzically. She only grinned.

They were confused, the four, as they ascended onto the stage and stared out at the blinding lights and barely visible mass of students. "What's going on?" Ron whispered to Harry, who in turn shrugged. "I can't sing!"

"Professor Flitwick," Hermione said to the zealous, DJ-ing professor. "Five more microphones, if you will."

They appeared in each of their hands.

"And 'Graduation,' by Vitamin C."

"Where will I find that track, Miss Granger?"

"Under Muggle Music."

Harps and violins were a strange sound for the students at Hogwarts. It caught their attention and held it as Hermione began to sing. It didn't matter that she wasn't the best singer; it was what she was doing.

"And so we talked all night about the rest of our lives/Where we're gonna be when we turn 25/I keep thinking times will never change/Keep on thinking things will always be the same/But when we leave this year we won't be coming back/No more hanging out cause we're on a different track/And if you got something that you need to say/You better say it right now cause you don't have another day...Harry, take it."

"Cause we're moving on and we can't slow down/These memories are playing like a film without sound/And I keep thinking of that night in June/I didn't know much of love/But it came too soon and there was me and you/And then we got real blue/Stay at home talking on the telephone/We'd get so excited, we'd get so scared/Laughing at our selves thinking life's not fair/And this is how it feels..."

And they sang the chorus together, raspy, soft, high-pitched, and low voices alike. They each took a turn singing a verse, but it was the hook where they came together. And eventually all of their graduating class sang along with them.

"We will still be, friends forever..."



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A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who ever read this story and reviewed it with kind words, mean words, constructive criticism and just plain criticism. Just for taking the time. It means more to me than you'll ever know.

So, what more can I say? I hope you enjoyed reading "Road trip," writing it was truly a joy. In the beginning, I would update nearly every day or so, and as the story progressed, so did the chapter length.

Twenty Word pages. Wow. That's... just wow.

I'm starting my first day of high school tomorrow. It seems so weird that while "Road trip" is ending, something as important as that is beginning. It's the last day of summer~make the best of it.

Thank you. It was my pleasure to write this for you.

Humbly yours, Escritora.



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glory (I'll go email you!) Sunflower-chan (of course I remember you!) Weasley Girl (it's okay, my dad has long held the fact that I'm crazy. I've done nothing for him to believe otherwise) lady alanna salmalin of conte (over 8,000, and if I do write a sequel it won't be for a while.) angellinda (I hope you finished!) Kaoru Himura (Grammar? Perfect! Your praise? Even better!) IcyFire (thanks) QueenOfBananas (yeah, I live in south Florida where lots of people speak Spanish. I'm sure you could write SOME humor, anyone can, thanks though!) Rin! (sorry, it was the only way! Brutus, well, it just seemed right, but he's also the guy who backstabbed all too ambitious Caesar) Sunshine (thanks, and the start to ur story is good!!) Miss Spinn (Thanks for being such a great reviewer for basically everything I write. You kick ass. Thanks!) Angel Malfoy (I imagine it must. I don't have that sort of genitalia, but I've kicked by best male bussy enough to know; his pen name is Mwarren, though he hasn't written a thing in ages) JoeBob1379 (huh, you should have clues about the boy by now. Oh, and you in the chapter was the least I could do) Couch-poatato (well, here it is, if you have the patience to read the thing) Elle-poohbear (legally blonde, eh? Thanks much!) Caitie (thanks) Kase (right) Belladonna Bloom (your name reminds me of lipsmacker flavors, lol, yeah, it's the last) Dracomalfoyfan87 (gracias) Unknown (yeah, whatever) Sky Brooks (thanks very much!) Mirei nochi (lol, lets keep it that way) Mandy (Oh, I believe it. Brava!) Christina (Hardly. And it has fifty, so you didn't come off as a know-it- all) Skimpygenie03 (I'll add you to my email list for this chapter straightaway! Glad to see you're an enthusiast) Clarissa (You too, sure!) LilWaterbird (Yeah, that was classic) Dreamcatcher (Rubbing off, yes! Good point.) Ice-cold (As you should) F0xyness39 (it's right now, that's when) Dragonice (cinderella? Er, ok, sure.) The Lady Lillian (no, it's done in mediation. Thanks for following my stories)



Thanks everyone... so much.

And for the last time, signing off from my story "Road trip," this is me! It's been a hell of a trip!



Adios~Escritora