Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

To Keep it Simple

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Hermione had taken Draco's advice, much to her dismay, and had locked her door. She had nearly dozed off into a deep slumber when she was awoken by a scratching from somewhere in her room. Her heart began to beat non-stop, wondering if Draco had been right and Ron really was going to hurt her. Fear bubbled up inside but when she finally peaked out above her covers, she caught the sight of Draco's silhouette against the window. She quickly clambered from her bed and rushed to the window, pulling it open. Draco immediately rushed in, but instead of grabbing Hermione to hug and kiss and caress, he dropped his broom and pointed his wand towards the corner of her room by the door.

"Petrificus Totalus," he hissed in a tone above a whisper. A very stunned Gryffindor tumbled from the shadows, limbs held together by an imaginary glue. The very angry Harry Potter glared up at Malfoy from his awkward position, a knife in his hand.

Chapter 8- A Realistic Fantasy

Harry managed to roll himself to the side, shimmying up the side of Hermione's drawers into a standing position. Draco marched forward, stabbing his wand into the shadows of the corner.

"Where is he, Potter!" he yelled, pivoting on his heel to face a former nemesis.

"I should be asking you, ya' dirty ferret!" Harry sneered in reply. Hermione recited the counter spell, the imaginary binds around Harry's legs and arms disappearing as quickly as they had first arrived. He shook out his hands and looked towards the ground, the moon casting his shadow along the floor. Draco stalked closer to Harry and restated his question.

"Where is Ron—"

Before he could finish, Harry's fist made contact with Draco's jaw, sending the off guard opponent backwards several steps. The slytherin glared as his hand quickly sought any wounds. Right as the blonde haired boy sprung towards Harry, Hermione intervened, sliding herself in between the two. Draco stumbled to the side as he forced his legs to stop their movement. He slammed into the wall, leaning against it angrily for support.

"What in blue blazes do you two children think you're doing? If you utter one more word—exchange one more punch—I will jump out that very window and the both of your efforts to save me from whatever danger I'm in will be wasted. Now one of you explain to me what you two think you're accomplishing by barging into my room like a pair of banshees and wrecking havoc all over the room," Hermione said, collectively stating her thoughts.

"First off- thank your stars that I'm not as much of a slow dolt as Ron or else you would be preaching to Madame Pomfrey instead of me and Potter. Secondly—I am saving your derriere from a dire assault—"

"He was not, Hermione—he's just trying to make me and Ron look bad—he's trying to get on your good side—"

"How did you get into my room, Harry?" Hermione said, shattering the foundation that was building up to an interesting, if not, abusive battle.

"Alohomora," Harry responded, the door unlocking while he spoke.

Hermione's attention immediately shot towards the entrance. Her brow furrowed as she realized that her room was no long a sanctuary for her privacy. It was a hard blow to her gut but she ignored it and focused on the rather confusing dilemma before her.

"Oh—just forget it. What's all this about Ron?"

"He's trying to kill you—obviously," Draco said, his old ways working into his system. Hermione narrowed her eyes and fell onto her bed, bouncing several times before landing comfortably with her hands crossed across her chest.

"I wonder why I didn't notice his intentions before," Hermione said sarcastically, a blank expression surfacing over her face. "Maybe it was because there's no reason for him to kill me?"

Her voice raised at the end of her comment causing Harry to lunge forward and cover her mouth. Draco quickly rushed forward and pushed aside the rival, nearly knocking him to the ground. The two exchanged looks of pure hatred while Hermione pulled Draco's hand from her mouth and rushed towards the window. She sat on the cushioned ledge and leaned against the panes, her arms moving back to cover her chest.

"Don't think I won't do it!" she threatened as one hand slowly moved towards the window. Draco raised his hands offensively and moved forward several steps. Hermione leaned backwards, her hair rippling in the cool breeze. All three froze.

"Explain yourself, Harry—I have a good idea of what Draco's doing here—but you? Why did you invade my privacy like that? Have you no dignity? I could have been changing when you sneaked in—and what exactly were you planning to do with that knife!"

Harry had set the blade atop Hermione's desk upon being released. The steel caught the glint of the moon, making it the most noticeable object in the room. His attention slowly shifted towards the knife, and then back to Hermione.

"I was worried that that rat would try and seduce you," he said with a sneer.

"So you brought along a knife instead of your wand?" she replied angrily.

"It's just a spell, Hermione," Harry responded, then slowly walked towards the knife, making sure that his movements weren't enough to make his female companion toss her body from the window.

"Mutatio," he whispered. The blade elongated and the sharp edge become dull, the knife transforming into the familiar holly wand holding the feather of a phoenix. "It was just for appearance.."

"What were you doing—hiding in the corner of my room? Were you planning to scare him away by waving your knife around? Of all people, Harry, you— what danger would I be in if he tried to seduce me?" Hermione angrily said.

"I thought that if I could just scare him away—he'd stop trying to snog you and get away with.. well, you know.. a Gryffindor—a prefect for that matter. Plus—he's put all these thoughts into your head. You might trust him—but me and Ron don't and you don't even care about that anymore. I was just worried that you'd forget where your roots lie."

Hermione nearly snorted at the irony. She knew why Draco wasn't going around, showing off. If he did, his parents would come up with a punishment so severe that he would no longer be able to hold his nose up as he did. Dumbledore had already had to reassure the Malfoys that their son was in no way actually getting involved with a mudblood. To find out that he slept with one would positively send the two parents on a rampage. Harry had unknowingly reminded her of why she was dodging so many of Draco's hints.

"That is—absolutely insane!" she said in an ecstatic whisper.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he solemnly answered.

"I still cannot believe you, Harry," she muttered, sliding off the window's ledge and onto the soft carpeting of her room. "All right, out, Draco has no chance of seducing me and you can eavesdrop outside if you still have a need to be nosy."

"But Hermi—"

"Out."

Draco watched as a somewhat solemn Harry headed out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Both occupants still in the room listened as the stairs creaked, signaling his departure back to his own dormitory. A smirk wove its way across Draco's expressions as he turned towards Hermione.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said huskily, a hint of sarcasm entangled with his words. He moved towards her like a wolf but she feinted his useless attacks and walked towards her bed.

"Mm—I like your thinking, Granger—cut the foreplay and go straight to the action."

Draco rushed across the room and threw himself onto her bed. As he sunk into the mattress, he quickly lay down on his side with his arms stretched out and awaiting her greeting. Hermione quirked a brow and turned so that her back leaned against one of the strong posts holding up the canopy to her bed. After seeing his actions rejected, Draco pulled back his arms and sat up.

"Even Harry knows that this is all wrong—and he hasn't the slightest clue about what we've actually done," she mumbled to herself, but loud enough for Draco to hear. He raised his brow and sighed, shoulders raising and then lowering. For the past few days, he had forced himself to be more considerate when it came to understanding where Hermione stood in all of this. He even held back all his natural Malfoy and Slytherin instincts to be with her—protect her even. If anything, it should have been her begging for more and not him. His ego managed to peek through his fake appearance.

"That's a pity, Granger—do you think I honestly give a damn about what Potter thinks?" he said with a sneer. Hermione scoffed and turned her head to face him.

"What was all this about Ron?" she asked.

"He tried to kill you—what part of kill you is so hard to understand?" he climbed off the bed and fell into her armchair, his legs spreading apart as he did so. Hermione bit her tongue and continued with her interrogation.

"I understand that part—but wouldn't you think that if some stranger told you that one of your closest friends was trying to kill you that you'd be just the tiniest bit curious? Or am I asking the wrong person? Perhaps I should direct my question towards someone with friends," she said, unaware of the harsh comments slipping from her lips. She imagined that a Slytherin such as Draco could handle the bitter truth.

"Clever, Granger—I've really got to credit you for that one. Being a gigantic git and bitch at the same time is quiet an unimaginable feat—maybe we should get Potter back in here, I'm sure he'd like to see the Hermione that he's trying to protect."

She felt anger seer through her veins, but it wasn't at the point of boiling yet. Didn't Draco understand? If she let herself believe his charade, he would just revert back to his Slytherin ways and treat her as he had months ago. She was yet to admit her feelings as openly as Draco did—she imagined that men like him would say anything to bed a woman.

"Let's just focus on Ron," she said as she furrowed her brow, watching Draco's comments go to waste. "Did you have another of your dreams?"

"Not that it matters now—I believe that I've been mistaken these past few days about where my loyalty lies."

"What are you talking about? Just tell me what you dreamt about!" she said, frustrated.

"Do your own damn research, Granger—let's just leave it at this," he started, climbing out of the chair. He grabbed his broom and stood on the window's sill, mounting the traveling device. "There's only one reason why I'd try and prevent all of this."

With that said, Draco stepped from the sill and into the cold, empty air. Hermione rushed to the window to only see him gliding away towards the Slytherin house—where ever that was. She sighed and pulled the window closed, locking it, though it seemed a useless action now. Her eyes meandered towards her muggle clock. It was three in the morning and the stars still dotted the dark sky. She slipped beneath her covers, hoping that when she reopened her eyes, she would no longer have any worries.

Hermione had left dinner early, ignoring the stare that Draco directed at her back. She hurried down the corridor and slid into the library, not sure exactly what she was looking for. Something to do with dreams, probably..

By the end of the hour, she had concentrated on looking through three books. Hogwarts: A History, Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do With Them Now Youve Wised Up, and Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. She flipped through the second book, skimming the index for anything about dreams and their predictions. Nothing about what Draco talked about—nor did the third book hold any answers. She finally gave in to searching the trusty Hogwarts: A History.

As her eyes ran over the small portion that Draco had read days before, she failed to understand what he'd meant. There was only one reason why he would try to prevent it.. she tapped her chin thoughtfully as she reread the words. Officials could only conclude that when loved ones are depicted in the dreams of those with this special talent, they are actual predictions of the future or what was happening during that exact moment..

Hermione flinched in her seat as she read the small excerpt. Draco said he'd been mistaken about where his loyalties had lain. She blinked and placed the pieces together. He'd meant that he'd been wrong about loving her. He had loved her, but now she wasn't so sure. Her feelings began to mix in the churning tangles of her head. Love was such a strong word—was she ready to use it? She stared down at the paper, letting the words filter in again. She loved him—but was she in love with him? As she glanced at the flowers that were still in the trash can, left from days ago, she sighed. Yes.. she thought to herself.

Draco prodded the fire as first years sat around him. Obviously, they had grown weary of the routine—sitting around and talking about how they'd all individually improved. Hermione promised that she would talk to Professor McGonagall about their situation and see if the sessions were at an end anytime soon. Draco still felt himself thinking of her. He'd told himself that she was no longer a portion of his life—she was too much of a risk. Maybe, just maybe—they could pull it off, somehow. She sat quietly, her eyes miles away from his. If only he could see a sign, anything. He wanted her to respond—just once. He had been shot down so many times by her, but it had never occurred to him that it was supposed to hurt. Draco was still unwilling to face the new emotions she had stirred in him. He was gradually accepting them—but he felt so vulnerable whenever he felt them. It was something he was willing to feel in exchange for being with her—being around her for that matter. Why couldn't she just say those three words? I love you, was it so hard? He'd said it as easily as he'd said anything else—which had led him to believe that he hadn't really meant it. However, he'd never know because he had no previous experiences to compare it with. The two hadn't talked for several days, a suspicion gathering among the first years. It didn't help that Hermione sat at the far corner of the couch while Draco sat on a footrest in front of the flames in the fireplace. A daring Gryffindor raised his hand.

"Why don't you two hug and kiss like you usually do?" he asked rather loudly. Harry and Ron, who were sitting at a table in the far corner playing Wizard's Chess immediately turned to see Hermione and Draco's reaction.

"Well—" Hermione started, not sure what to say. She wrung the corner of her robe in her hands and glanced towards Draco, who remained motionless—except for the occasional poking at the burning logs. She knew that he was waiting for her response- everybody was. "We didn't think it was quite.. such a clever idea to—to.. encourage public shows of affection because—because the professors were getting frustrated with—our.. lack of focus on school work."

She nearly slapped herself for telling such a large lie. She also knew that she was contradicting everything they had worked for. Their goal had been to show that Slytherins and Gryffindors could work together—but not too close together. Draco turned to look at Hermione with a raised brow while the first years talked to each other in hushed whispers. The voices grew louder as they realized what the Gryffindor prefect had realized after speaking.

"Keep it down," Draco began, leaning forward to stare at each individual face. He slung his hands loosely over his splayed legs, elbows pointed outwards. "What Hermione means to say is that the professors felt that if we snogged too much, you all would be spending more time together in your dormitories then in class. Understood?"

First years oohed and ahhed with understanding, then nodded in response. Hermione stole a glance at Harry and Ron, who seemed just as surprised as she was. Draco glanced up at the grandfather clock and then back towards his audience.

"Now that that's all over with—Slytherin first years—get back to our house."

The Gryffindor first years gratefully thanked Draco with their stares and ran off to their dormitories—the session having bored them more and more by the minute. The Slytherin first years took one glance at Draco and obediently rushed out of the common room, heading back towards their room without their prefect in tow. Draco stood up and placed one hand atop the mantle, leaning sluggishly against the fireplace. He continued to prod the dimming embers with the poker, but then dropped it onto the floor with a clatter. His dreams had gotten worse each passing night and he knew that Hermione was going to be in some sort of danger soon. The only way he managed to keep himself in his bed each night was to think that she was safe and even if he didn't want to believe it—Harry was probably protecting her anyway. Ron still rose suspicions, though. Draco glanced over at the red-haired boy. He needed answers—he felt alone and lost without them. If only she could give him one—the one he was looking for.

"Hermione," he called after her. She had already reached the stairs and as she turned around to face him, Ron and Harry stood up from their game. Draco walked towards her but could not get close enough to touch her. Her faithful Gryffindor companions stood in his way.

"We believe we have a right to know what you plan on doing to Hermione," Harry said angrily as Ron began to turn a red color.

"I was planning to make wild love to her on the floor," Draco said sarcastically. Ron was bouncing slightly from the bubbling anger that was beginning to spread through his veins like wildfire. Hermione had almost yelled at him to stop talking—afraid that he was about to reveal something that wasn't supposed to be revealed. She stared at him while he stared back, his gray eyes telling her nothing while hers told him everything.

"Calm down, you drunk git," Draco said angrily as he pushed the Weasley aside, knocking the two friends into one another. Ron immediately threw himself towards Draco, as expected. The Slytherin pushed off Ron, the red haired sixth year colliding with Harry. The two took several steps backwards, but before both of them could charge, Hermione spoke.

"Who opened the window?" she asked curiously. Ron ignored her and proceeded to run towards Draco like an enraged bull. As Draco turned towards the window, Ron pushed the both of them to the floor. Hermione stepped around the mess and headed towards the large common room window, which was wide open. She pulled it closed, snapping the clasp down, shivers running wild down her back. The moon was full again and the light streamed through the window like water. Her mouth opened to call a stop to the battle, but something covered her mouth. Harry yelled out her name and immediately, Draco was shoving off Ron like a wet cloth. He launched towards the figure dragging her into the shadows as did Harry, Ron following suit. All three managed to grab hold onto Hermione, a tug of war between the two forces rolling into action. Harry let go of his friend and pulled the figure out of the depths of the shadows.

A very surprised Ron Weasley stared as his exact copy fell from the shadows. Coincidentally, the two fell to the floor together. Harry and Draco helped Hermione to her feet, then turned to stare at the intruder.

"What in the name of—When did you clone yourself, Ron?" Harry asked, surprise mixing with some sort of fear. The two Rons turned to stare at each other as they stood up, dusting themselves off.

"I'm the real Ron," they both said at once. Hermione searched her robe for her wand but could not find it—she cursed silently to herself. Whoever had her wand was the fake.

"Pull out your wands," she demanded. Both reached for their robe pockets while Harry pulled out his wand, holding it rather unsteadily.

"Wait a minute! This one isn't mine! That impostor switched them!" one said.

"He's the impostor—how could I have switched the wands so quickly? Quickly, Harry, stupefy him!" the other said.

"Drop your wands," Draco commanded. The two threw their wands to Harry, who picked them up and handed them to Hermione. She took back her wand and wondered how they would handle the situation. Something was definitely wrong—and for once in her life, she had no answers.

One of the Rons stepped forwards with his hands raised above his head. "I'm the real Ron—come on Harry, you know it's me."

The other ran to catch up with the copy. "No! Don't believe him Harry, he's lying!" Both of their faces began to grow red with anger. Draco stared at the ground to clear his thoughts while Harry moved his arm back and forth, wand in hand, trying to determine the true Ron from the fake Ron. When Draco lifted his head back up, his eyes were full of both confusion and revelation.

"Crucio!" he yelled, a burst of light erupting from his wand. It hit the Ron to the left, the Ron who had tried to first persuade Harry that he had been the true Ron. The impostor fell to the ground, twitching uncontrollably. His chest heaved as his energy tried to rejuvenate. .Hermione turned with wide eyes towards Draco while Ron stared at his twin.

"Why did you do that?" she angrily said, unsure if Draco had attacked the right Weasley.

Draco stepped towards the fake, Harry and Hermione gathering beside him. He nudged over the body with the toe of his shoe, the moon sliding directly over the body and covering all.

"He has no shadow," Hermione whispered.