Title: Firefly

Chapter Four: Bet #2

Author: Kitty Malfoy (ME!)

A/N: Hey! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Also. Someone reviewed asking why I don't like Harry. Actually, I believe I answered this at the end of the last chapter. I usually hate most main characters. It's always about them! I tend to root for the underdogs. Reason number 2: Draco is a sexy biatch! Harry es mucho ugly! Draco/Tom Felton is very very hot, and he is the shizat in this story. If you love Harry and Harry/Hermione couples, then you probably shouldn't be reading this story. Geezus! Do I need to put it in the summary? I hope not. That just means your stupid! On with the chapter. I'm not even sure what's going to happen in this chapter - so I guess we'll just make it up as we go along.

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The pesky chirping of a Muggle alarm clock would have been welcome, but Muggle items didn't work on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Wake up you lazy excuse for a Head Girl! Up. Up. UP!"

Groggily, Hermione flailed her hand around her bedside dresser, and whacked her screaming alarm hopelessly. The said alarm clock skidded across the small table and fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled THUMP. An ebony hand raked itself through her tangled hair, unconsciously combing out the knots. Her hazel eyes fogged over and were encased in pale lids when the screeching voice, very similar to Mrs. Weasley's, could be heard from the floor.

"Don't even think of going back to sleep! Hermione Rae Granger! GET MOVING!"

Hermione groaned, and flung back her warm, downy covers in defeat. With a long, drawn out yawn she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed, and scratched her head idly. As she hopped down from her tall king sized bed a sharp pain shot through her left foot. Instantly wide-awake, she cried out in surprised and lifted up her foot. The crushed remains of her persistent alarm clock lay scattered across the maroon carpeting.

Grabbing her foot, she hopped around her room trying to see if she was bleeding or bruised. Satisfied, that she hadn't sustained any injury from that god-forsaken alarm she dropped her foot. Making no attempt to slow the momentum of her foot it threw her off-balance and she stumbled backwards trying to regain the balance she had lost. Her hand tightened on the doorknob in stability as her body fell against it. Hermione screamed as her hand slipped on the doorknob and the oaken door swung outwards.

Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, in a reflexive maneuver. But the fall down the stairs that she had been expecting didn't occur. Instead, she became aware of the strong, lithe arms around her waist, supporting her. It could only have been one person, but her brain didn't seem to register that fact until she craned her neck around and looked at the person that held her. Of course it was Draco. He was the only other person with the password to their rooms.

Reaching out she grabbed a hold of the twisted pewter banister, and pulled herself back to her feet. Draco's arms left her as she turned around to face him. She dug into her closed eyes with her knuckles to rub the sleep away, and so that she didn't have to see his trademark smirk. "What time is it?" She asked, him solicitously. Her eyes opened and she was surprised to see his expression blank.

"I don't know," was his reply, "You're the one with the hollering alarm clock." He smiled, and Hermione felt herself smile slightly as well; his being infectious. "I'm guessing about eight."

Hermione realized then that she was only wearing her skimpy, Victoria's Secret nightgown. Self-consciously, she crossed her creamy arms over her chest; the cold silk material giving her goosebumps. Draco must have also noticed for he slid out of his green pajama robe and handed it to her. "Here." Hermione took it gratefully, shrugged into it, and finished walking down the stairs.

Draco followed after her, and Hermione absently noted that all he wore was a white muscle T-shirt, and silky, black boxers. She sat down, and he sat down next to her, lighting the fireplace as well. Hermione picked idly at the Slytherin emblem embroidered in his robe, making the smallest sound in the blanketing silence that covered the two.

"Did you hear about..." he started

"What is this?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What is this?"

Draco looked thoroughly confused, "I don't understand..."

"Why are you sitting here talking to me, like we're some sort of talking buddies?" Her tone was scathing, and she glowered at him.

Draco was taken aback. "I-I just..."

"You're just a Death Eater!" She exclaimed, and leapt to her feet, "I don't know why I'm even explaining this to you!"

Without thinking he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down on the couch. "I am not a Death Eater," he hissed. Hermione looked at him in bafflement. "But-the power..." she stumbled over her words. Draco frowned slightly and leaned back. "Yes, the power is extremely tempting, but I want my own. Not some borrowed power from Voldemort."

"Then you're not..."

"No, I'm not a Death Eater. But why would you believe me - you don't even know me." He propped his elbow up on the arm of the chair and rested his aquiline jaw on his fist. Hermione sat there staring into the unnatural blue flames in the fireplace with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wrung them nervously and bit her lip. She was shamed at her sudden and cruel outburst, and was mentally screaming at herself.

Pulling the green silk tighter around her she pulled her knees up beneath her and scooted closer to Draco. "You're right I don't know." She admitted. He turned and looked at her with mild surprise. Before she lost her nerve she rushed out her next words. "But you could tell me."

Draco stared at her in silence, his mind racing. "You couldn't last one whole day in my company, Granger." He said with a dry chuckle. Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a haughty look. "As if, Malfoy. Of course I could."

"I bet you couldn't"

Hermione's hand grabbed his and she shook it firmly.

"You're on."