A/N: I apologize so much for the extremely long wait! Again. So very, very sorry. *cringes* I need help or something… Like, psychiatric. Well, maybe not. Whatever.

Hey, guess what? It's Spring Break! You know what that means, don't you? Yup! More time to write… *grins* They'll never keep me from the computer now…

If you people want updates, join my Yahoo! Group: LiveALittle. It's for anyone who likes, agrees with, or is just interested in the Harry/Pansy pairing. Send a blank e-mail to LiveALittle-subscribe@yahoogroups.com to join.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Harry/Pansy, Hermione/Draco, Ron/Padma, Ginny/Neville, and Blaise/?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. What an original disclaimer.

***************

Molly Weasley was sitting at the table, reading the morning post. She was busy luxuriating in the rare quiet—which she rarely got with six boys—when what she had just read processed through her mind.

Dear Mrs. Weasley,

How are you? I'm doing very well, thank you. My grades are wonderful as usual, although I've been falling behind a bit lately because of—

No, not that part…

Well, I need to ask you something. I'm sure that Ron or Ginny owled you at some point to tell you that I was dating Draco Malfoy. As I'm sure you've heard, his father was murdered by Voldemort—

Molly flinched.

—and his mother is in St. Mungo's. During the last few weeks, I have befriended Blaise Zabini, another girl in my year.

She noticed that Hermione didn't specify which house the girl was in, and wondered at that.

Anyways, as I was saying…

Molly smiled to herself. Hermione did seem to get off-track quite easily. Her letters were multiple pages long. It was a welcome relief from six boys who thought revealing their emotions was 'unmanly.' And it didn't help that Ginny took after them.

Well, Blaise doesn't have any family either, and I was wondering whether you might consent to having both Draco and Blaise spend the holidays with us at the Burrow. I understand that you don't have the best history with the Malfoys, but I assure you that Draco will be on his best behavior, or he'll answer to me.

I await your response…

Hermione Granger

Molly leaned her chin into her hand, staring off into space. Well. She certainly had a lot to think about…

***

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently on the floor in the Great Hall. It was a week before Christmas break began, and she expected Mrs. Weasley's reply that morning.

"Gods, Hermione," Ron said around a mouthful of bacon, "Whatever is the matter with you this morning?"

"Nothing," she snapped irritably.

"Temper, temper," Ron muttered under his breath, not really feeling it was worth it to provoke her anger.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Ron, it's just that I owled your mum to ask if Blaise and Draco could come to the Burrow for the holidays, and—"

"Wait," he interrupted her, "did you just say that you asked my mum if Blaise and Draco could come home for the holidays? Are you insane?" he shouted.

Hermione raised a brow, looking down her nose at him, her expression one of disdain. "Yes to the first, no to the second."

Ron just looked at her. "A Malfoy is going to be in the Burrow?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron," she chastised him, scooping some oatmeal into her bowl, "I thought you were really getting past that old feud."

"Uh, 'Mione, that doesn't exactly mean that I want him in my house for Christmas."

"Jeez, enough with the italics already…" Hermione muttered.

"What?" Ron looked confused.

"It's nothing, Ron, just a little Muggle expression."

"Oh?" Ron asked, looking interested.

Hermione sighed. "I'm actually surprised Witches and Wizards don't have it as well. I mean, we both use italics, at least in published books. Well, you don't have computers, of course, so maybe you don't know what they're called, but italics stress words, and you're stressing a lot of words, and I was just commenting on that fact—"

"Wait, wait!" Ron said, looking confused. "What's a copmuter?"

Hermione sighed again, knowing she shouldn't have brought it up. "Okay…"

***

Draco looked at Hermione across the Great Hall, and sighed. She was looking quite fetching, despite the fact that she wasn't dressed any differently than normal. Suddenly, he sat up, looking disgusted. And he was. With himself, at least. He was beginning to sound like a love-sick fool. Not that there was anything wrong with that, exactly, but what if he slipped up and said something out loud? He shuddered.

Even with the fall of the Dark Lord and the blemishing of the Malfoy name, most people still feared him. He preferred to keep it that way. Many people thought that he was just using Hermione. After all, since when did Malfoys know anything about love?

"Hey, Malfoy," Zabini said, sitting down beside him. Despite the fact that they were closer than they had been, they still called each other by their last names. Draco supposed it was just because they always had.

"Zabini," Draco nodded, not exactly in the mood for small talk.

"What's with Hermione?" she asked, nodding over to where the Head Girl was nearly jumping up and down with anticipation.

Draco shrugged noncommittally. He honestly had no idea. Looking up, he noticed that the post had come, and looked down again, not expecting any letters.

He was extremely surprised when a scrawny-looking, ruffled owl dropped a letter in front of him before dropping another in front of Zabini, and then going to the Gryffindor table to drop another letter there—in front of Hermione. Draco watched as her face lit up, and she glanced at him, catching his eye and grinning.

Draco looked down at the letter, addressed to him in a flowing script. He opened it curiously.

Dear Draco Malfoy,

I am extending an invitation to you to come to the Burrow for the Christmas holidays. I request that you think it over before accepting or refusing.

Sincerely,

Molly Weasley

Draco raised a brow in shock, looking up at Hermione. She grinned at him again and looked over at Zabini, who wasn't doing anything, just staring into space.

"Hey," Draco said, trying to snap her out of … whatever she was in. "Zabini!"

She jerked, looking at him quickly. "Yeah?"

Draco shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing," he said, smirking, and turned back to his food, effectively shutting out any future comments.

***

Harry headed to his Transfiguration class, almost skipping with anticipation. This was the last class he would have with Professor McGonagall before break, and although he thought she was nice—in her own way—she was a strict teacher. He was early, but he didn't think much of it. After all, he'd been early before. And what was wrong with being early, anyways?

He walked into the classroom and sat at his desk, pulling out his things, noting dimly that Professor McGonagall wasn't there yet. He was whistling now, and had a small smile on his face. If he allowed himself to think about it at all, he realized that there was another reason he was so jovial—and it had to do with a certain blonde Slytherin.

The sexual tension between them had sizzled, but both had been careful not to be alone with the other in case it escalated. Harry knew that he'd only felt that deeply sexually once before—with that girl. He'd felt that deeply emotionally with Hermione… But this was still different. There was something about Pansy that he couldn't put his finger on…

Okay, that brought up images he certainly couldn't be having just—he looked at the clock—fifteen minutes before class began. He adjusted himself on the seat, suddenly uncomfortable, just as he heard someone else walk in the door. He looked down at his desk, not wanting anyone to see the dark blush that was staining his cheeks.

Someone sat down next to him and almost groaned out loud. Of course it had to be Pansy. The Gods really didn't like him at all this year, did they? Of course they didn't. Why would they? He stole a glance at her and was shocked to find her staring at him. He held her eyes until she suddenly coughed and looked away, busying herself with her things.

Harry felt another blush come on and pulled out a sheet of parchment, getting ready to take notes. He stole another look at the clock. Argh! he yelled to himself in frustration. Only two minutes had passed. They still had another seven minutes—at the least—before anyone else showed up. No one (well, except perhaps Hermione) cared to show up early for Transfiguration, of all things.

"So," Harry said, clearing his throat. The tension in the room was killing him. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

"Oh, uh," Pansy paused. "I'm going home. My father and I never spent a lot of time together and now that my mother's gone—" She stopped, blushing. "Er, well, I'm going home for the holidays."

Harry nodded, wishing that someone would come in.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm going to the Weasleys'."

She nodded. Silence reigned again as both fought to look anywhere other than each other.

Harry cleared his throat again, but didn't say anything. He was at a loss for words. Suddenly he heard a click and realized that Pansy had dropped her quill. "Oh, I'll—"

"I've—"

They knocked heads on the way down, and Harry snatched the quill, setting it on the table, before looking at her. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, reaching out to touch her forehead where her hand was.

"I'm fine," she said, although she was flinching every now and then.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing his thumb lightly over the slight bruise. Pansy's eyes were closed, but for some reason he doubted it was with pain. She opened her eyes abruptly, and caught his gaze. She seemed to be making a decision of some sort. Leaning forward, never breaking their gaze, she brushed her lips against his.

Harry sat in shock, not doing anything. Sure, he'd been having some slight, ah, fantasies about something like this, but he'd never imagined that she had… And so, just as she was pulling away, he pulled her back, his hand on her neck, caressing lightly. She shivered, her hand coming up to grab the neck of his robes, pulling him closer.

He'd never thought that she'd felt anything like this, nor that she would be the one to make the first move. Then again, he probably wouldn't have made any move whatsoever… Especially considering his past history. With Cho, he'd never told her anything, never made any move after asking her to the Yule Ball in his fourth year. With Hermione, he hadn't made any move at all. He was extremely grateful that Pansy had done something.

The faint sound of people talking and laughing registered in his brain and he ended the kiss—albeit very unwillingly, and with slight opposition. "Later," he whispered, looking into her eyes, knowing it would be a very easy promise to keep…

***************

A/N: Finally! Here it is!! I finished it…

siriusluver: Glad you like the pairings, and that you found (and liked!) the story. :)

howdidhenot / Daman: Thank you. I'll definitely be keeping up the good work.

dracos gurl / Dreamer not believer: Yup, it's still got Draco and Hermione. For some reason I love writing that pairing… Glad you think the Harry/Pansy pairing works.

PassionPolice237: Well, as you can see, Pansy won't be coming for the holidays, but I found a way to bring her into them anyways. You'll see either in chapter nine or ten. I'm not sure yet which one.

Jan McNeville: *frowns* I'm not certain who gave her the gavel. She won't tell me.

FTCWriter: Thanks for understanding. And they should figure out something soon…if they haven't already…

Nikki: Glad you like the D/He thing. And I can see why you're glad that it's not based on sex… A lot of D/He fics are, aren't they? Hmm. Glad you like the dialogue—it's one of the most fun things to write.

Lulu81: Yeah, Ron probably would be more understanding about that whole thing if he were going with a Slytherin, but I like to think he's not too stupid. I like unusual pairings as well… And in my opinion, I'm not done yet! There's more to come. ^^