The day wore on in a blur of faces and lectures. To the casual observer I must have appeared zombie-like; so dead to the world I barely responded to outside stimuli. Inside my mind, however, a full scale attack of memories and thoughts bombarded my sanity.

Recalling each second spent with Harry, from this morning's breakfast to the first moment I lay eyes on him on Platform 9 ¾, I examined every smile and casual touch for sexual tension. Could it be possible I've been attracted to him subconsciously somehow? Could the brotherly affection actually have it's roots grounded in some primal sort of lust? After all, that's how it began between Oliver and Percy, and look at them now: so daft for one another they even hold hands while eating family dinners. Fred and George are no better; casting those secret, sideways glances when we're at home, away from the judgmental eyes of the rest of the world. Really, it seems like such an obvious pair. Me and Harry. It's a wonder it never occurred to me before. But it certainly seems to have occurred to Malfoy, that bloody git. Imagine his nerve! Kissing me senseless like that, than instigating that Harry and I felt, well, that for one another. And what was that rambling about some sort of
challenge? Almost like some sort of a game, really. Queer that he chose me for his little experiment, no pun intended. I mean, really, I'm nothing special. Certainly my brothers all have outstanding reputations (in the case of the twins, reputations of outstanding mischief), but, besides Harry's friendship, I really have nothing to boast about. Unless... no, he wouldn't be conniving enough to try to get to Harry through me, would he?

Well, that certainly makes more sense than him actually in l...ust with me. What would he actually see in me, with my hideous freckles and abundant hair such a flaming red? I'm not naive to think there's anything remotely attractive about my looks. He, on the other hand, is nothing short of stunning. Although his face was once so angular it looked like it might cut, he grew into the high cheekbones and pale flesh. Now its only those frigid grey eyes that slice. Until last night I never really noticed that body of his, but if what I felt against my own was any indication, he's just as striking under his robes as above. Good God, I marveled with a brilliant blush, when did I start thinking about what's under Malfoy's robes? That's just...

"Ron? Ron, are you okay?" A worried voice derailed my train of thought.

"Harry? Er, yeah, I'm fine, I mean," I loudly cleared my throat. "Perfectly fine. Why?"

"Well, you just--"

"--turned a rather spectacular shade of scarlet, Ron." Broke in Seamus' jovial voice, obviously trying to further embarrass me and succeeding tremendously.

"Ron, are you sure your okay?" Quizzed Hermione with a concerned frown. "You've barely touched your dinner."

"Yeah, and the chocolate pudding's really good." Added Harry while demonstrating by lapping the desert from his spoon with an unconscious sensuality. My eyes were guiltily drawn to the slow movements of his tongue. Hurriedly breaking my concentration away, I sputtered the first thing that came to mind.

"Actually, I'm just really worried. You know, about my detention and all. I better be going, wouldn't want to make McGonagall any angrier than she already is. See you later, then."

Leaping from my chair and rushing out of the Great Hall, I don't believe I've ever been so grateful for a detention in all my life. Now I had an hour to piece together my thoughts, work everything out before I had to see Harry again. Now, if only I could avoid Malfoy for, say, the rest of my life, everything would be perfect. Maybe a week, by then maybe he'll forget about this stupid `experiment' of his...

"Bloody hell! What are you doing here!"

***

Slowly looking up from my lazy examination of the wooden floorboards, my eyes met familiar blazing ones.

"I'm waiting for McGonagall to get back so we can have hot passionate sex, Weasley," I answered in an biting drawl. " Isn't that what you're here for as well?"

"Don't be disgusting, Malfoy," he blanched. "What are you here for?"

"Detention, same as you, I suppose. However, our esteemed professor seems to be late." I cast a casual glance from his eyes, to the door, than back.

"Oh," he mumbled, as if disappointed, as he sat in a chair opposite the one I was in.

There was a pause of, in his case awkward silence.

He finally broke the silence after a few seconds with an anxious "Well?"

"Well?" I countered with a sly look in his direction.

"Well, what did you do?" I raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "To get a detention, I mean." he hastily added.

"It was more a case of what I didn't do," I deliberately replied.

Obviously relaxing into the deceptively normal conversation, he stepped right into my trap with his next words.

"Well, than, what didn't you do?"

I rose from the seat and took a few gliding steps towards him as I quietly responded.

"I wasn't paying the least bit of attention to the lesson today."

"Why?" he questioned with a choked gasp.

I slid down to my knees in front of him, each of his legs on either side of me.

"I was thinking of other things," I whispered, one hand lightly tracing patterns on his knee. His eyes never wavered from my own.

"Now ask what I was thinking of," I demanded softly.

"What were you thinking of?" He obediently parroted.

"You," I hissed and quickly captured his mouth with mine.

At first his mouth was tight with shock, as it had been the first time, jaw firmly clenched. I slicked my tongue across his lower lip until I had coaxed my tongue to his. That first explosion when his taste mingled with my own was absolute bliss. My sense of purpose was quickly lost as his tongue gently stroked my own. Of its own violation, my body settled onto his lap, fingers lost in a sea of crimson hair. He groaned into my mouth and I was undone.

Without warning, he cruelly pulled his mouth from mine and punched me so squarely in the gut, I ended up in a heap on the floor. Panting for the breath which fled on impact, I glared up at his considerable height.

"You bastard." He virtually growled.

"Contrary to popular belief," I smoothly responded between laboring breaths. "My mother and father were, indeed, married when I was conceived."

"I know what that was about, I'm onto your little game. You think your so clever, but I know exactly what's going on."

A thrill of fear swept my spine at his words. How the hell could he have figured it out? But he was continuing his tirade.

"Your trying to get to Harry through me, aren't you? That's what this is all about, isn't it? Well, your not going to distract me with your... your... behavior."

Before I could form any sort of coherent response, McGonagall swept into the room. Her eyes traveled from Ron's clenched fists to my crumpled form.

Clearing her voice, she said with a brisk tone, "I apologize for my tardiness, but I'm most pleased to see you two did not kill each other without supervision. Well, come now, lets start your detentions." She looked from Ron to me. "Your separate detentions."

The rest of the evening was quite anticlimactic without even Ron's presence serving to distract from the odious task Filch demanded of me. Later that night I slipped into the Slytherin common room, determined to go straight to bed, but a figure in front of the fireplace stopped my travel up short.

Carlos Jaggers' angular face was eerily caught between the fire's flickering light and the shadow's dark depths.

"Well?" He demanded.

"I'm beginning to secure his attention. That much is certain."

"Good. Than it should all be a matter of time before he falls in love with you. And as for the rest?"

"I can guarantee this will all be over by winter's end."