Summary: Don't you hate those Head Boy/Girl stories? Even more than that, don't you think it's possible for Hermione and Draco to plausibly fall in love (even in fanfiction—or more appropriately, especially in fanfiction) without them having to be forced together to the point of obvious legal issues at hand? This is a tribute to those stories that make the two of them share a bed and toothbrush and an ass and whatnot.
Can't Hurry Love
"I can't believe this, Ron. The day I've been waiting for since I was two and half has finally arrived, and I have to share it with him," Hermione Granger grumbled, dropping the letter to her lap in defeat.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione," Ron sympathized, already getting red from the notion. "I can't believe you're going to have to be Head Girl with him."
"I know," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "It should have been Harry."
"Bloody right, it should have," the redhead resounded, before frowning. "Wait, why didn't he get Head Boy again?"
"Oh, because Harry has too much on his plate nowadays, what with Voldemort waiting for his Seventh Year to finally challenge him to a one-on-one duel and the fact that his hormones will be raging like crazy," Hermione explained flawlessly. "Plus, Malfoy has all those grades nearly good enough to rival mine that no one had ever noticed."
"That's right," Ron acknowledged. "I knew there was a memo about that."
"But you know, that doesn't make any of this better," she whined once more, pouting as she looked down at the printed parchment. "I hate Malfoy. I've always hated Malfoy. And now he's stealing my thing. My thing—the Head position. The other half of the Head Girl. The ying to my yang. The peanut butter to my jam. The peaches to my cre—"
"'Mione," Ron raised an eyebrow.
"And I never thought he'd qualify for the position!"
"Right," Ron agreed, nodding.
"And I had no reason to believe that he'd qualify for Head Boy."
"Right."
"And I never even knew Malfoy was in the running, what with all with his numerous detentions and threats and stunts on professors."
"Sure."
"And now he qualified—and won the position."
"Right," Ron's brows furrowed again as he looked at Hermione for confirmation that this all made some sort of sense. Unfortunately, the brunette wasn't paying attention as she raised her letter of congratulations to her face, and then tossed it across Ron's room as she flopped back on his bed.
"This year is going to be the worst hell anyone has ever faced and will ever face in the following years to come." She through a pillow over her head. "Ever."
A fork levitated itself in the air carefully, gliding until it positioned itself just so beside the goblet before it started tapping the side of it forcefully. Successfully quieting the dining hall, the fork dropped beside its neighbor, the knife, and waited in silence, along with all the students.
"Welcome, students," Dumbledore started, standing up before the room full of attentive eyes, "to another year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you'll have an exceptional year here and please give a warm welcome to the frightened First Years drenched from the rain outside. It's become a sort of tradition for the rain to be pouring on the first day of school for quite some time now.
"Oddities aside, I suppose it's time to introduce all of our teachers to the new students and to introduce new teachers to the returning pupils," the elderly headmaster rumbled, before turning to his colleagues as the traditional professors' table. "Well, here they are. Lovely bunch, I'll tell you. Just swell."
The teachers' mouths nearly dropped as they noticed that Dumbledore was about to move on from the introductions. Off their upset looks, he returned a kind-hearted smile.
"Of course," Dumbledore corrected himself, "how could I be so silly?" He pointed with his hand, "That one and that one—the navy robe—are new. Welcome. Now, moving onto this year's Head Boy and Girl…"
"Albus," Minerva McGonagall hissed at the speed-talking headmaster. "Albus."
"Yes?" Dumbledore ducked down, halting his sentence.
"Don't…" she sighed, "Don't you think it would be fitting to introduce the—the new teachers by name for all the students? Or perhaps introduce the Prefects as well as the Head Boy and Girl to the school, if they must be mentioned at the feast?"
Dumbledore looked in thought briefly. "No. I have reason to believe that nobody cares, Minerva. Now, if you'll excuse me…" he motioned to the shifty looking kids who were already losing interest in the private conversation between the headmaster and some teacher.
"As I was saying, I think it's about time to introduce this year's Head Boy and Girl to the student body," he grinned widely. Suddenly, a near drum roll could be heard as Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect.
"When did we get a band?" Snape whispered to no one in particular as he looked up from his mashed potatoes. Madame Pomfrey only shrugged in return.
"I knew," Trelawney answered dreamily, before looking toward her confused colleagues. "About the band; I knew about the band."
"And this year's Head Boy is…" Dumbledore announced, eyes twinkling, "…Draco Malfoy!"
Applause erupted throughout the hall as Draco sauntered cockily in between the tables toward the stage, glaring at anyone who had any doubts as to why he was there, or who looked at him at all, for that matter. He didn't spare a glance to the discontented trio of Hermione, Ron, and Harry.
"And this year's Head Girl is… Hermione Granger!"
Another applause erupted, as if on cue, as Hermione stood from the bench at her table and slowly made her way up to the stage, standing as far away from Draco as physically possible while still remaining in the spotlight and a convenient distance from which to glare.
"Students, please welcome your student leaders for this year: Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger!" Dumbledore announced grandly, receiving another round of applause. "They will be your go-to representatives for any of your problems. Frankly, they will be more like chiefs of the school. Messiahs for each gender, if you will…"
Hermione tuned Dumbledore out, content that he would be singing their praises for at least another few minutes, to glare at her Head counterpart. His eyes met hers and she put on the most disgusted look she could muster.
In return, Draco only tilted his head toward her and smirked smugly, almost radiation the phrase: Arrogant sexy asshole.
Sexy? Hermione's mind detected with disturbance. What the name of—
"…will briefly describe each of the Heads' interests to you before they grace us with a fifteen minute prepared speech of their own about themselves. Draco Malfoy is a very ambitious students with grades nearly of the stature to rival Ms. Granger's and the looks and charm to rival a veela. He is a Sagittarius that enjoys short walks on the beach and cozy, deserted cabins in the middle of nowhere for…"
You just wait, Hermione thought angrily, distracting her thoughts from the shocking four letter word that started with 's' and ended with 'y' her mind had just used an adjective in relation to Draco Malfoy, if this year will the biggest hell there ever was and will be in the following years to come for me… then I'm taking you down with me, ferret.
"And these are your quarters," Dumbledore motioned to a portrait of a boy dressed in green and a girl dressed in read holding hands. "Your password will be 'friends forever and ever.' Should either of you desire to change the password to 'green royal dragon' or 'Harry rocks my socks,' for example, then you will need to inform the other of such a change so that one of you will not be locked out from your room."
Hermione and Draco instantly exchanged a look, suggesting that consideration was not on the menu for them within the near future, before Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he turned back to the headmaster.
"Wait, Professor, did you say our… room? In singular form?" he asked cautiously while Hermione gained a horrified expression at such a notion as well.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid so," Dumbledore nodded with an indecipherable twinkle in his eye. "The other professors and I talked about the matter, upon reaching a decision that the two of you would be best for the position of Head Boy and Girl, and we came across a dilemma. Since friendship and tolerance of each other is crucial to successfully leading the school and performing well in the position, the professors and I agree that you two would be required to share a room as a consequence of the animosity that so famously continued for years between you."
Hermione and Draco looked bewildered.
"Not only will you be required to share a room," Dumbledore began, causing them both to flinch at the thought that there was more, "but you also have to share a bed and will have to fasten yourself to the bed on top of one another when you sleep. Buckles will be provided."
Hermione and Draco's mouths dropped open simultaneously. For moments, neither of them was able to say a word. Finally, Draco gained back his voice.
"A-Are you serious?"
Dumbledore nodded solemnly yet decisively. "The faculty and I think that at least with these arrangements, there is a chance of the two of you getting along and genuinely getting closer."
Sighing miserably, Hermione pulled on the arm of a still shocked Draco. "Come on, Malfoy. Rules are rules."
His shoulders slumped in defeat as he followed Hermione into the intimate one-room Head quarters. "I know."
Neither of them saw the new twinkle that emerged in Dumbledore's eyes before he turned and walked down the hall, content that he had brought two more students together, confident that they could put their differences aside with the right kind of persuasion.
"Granger, will you stop moving?"
"Excuse me, Malfoy, but you're the one that's not giving me any room," Hermione grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position.
"Granger, I am so serious. Stop that moving."
"Malfoy, I am on top of you. Don't you think I should at least try to get comfortab—Oh, my God. What is that?"
Draco looked to the side, studying the funky-looking lampshade near their bed on the night table. "What's what?" he asked lightly, not meeting his bedmate's eyes.
"Th-that," Hermione replied cautiously, moving her thigh against it. Draco gasped and their eyes finally locked. "See? You know what I'm talking about."
"Well… Bloody hell, Granger. Duh," he rasped out in frustration as she wouldn't stop moving. "I… I… That is what you do to me. You might as well know it since… well, since you're going to figure it out some time in the next few minutes. I've been hot for you since first year. This is what you do to me every time I see you and—Oh, would you stop that wiggling, woman, or do you want to experience something new while I'm divulging my deep feelings for you and you're being frightened out of your mind?"
Hermione thought about it. "Sorry." She stopped wiggling.
"I want you, Granger… Hermione. I must have you," he whispered into her ear and she shivered involuntarily. "I've wanted you for so long. And I know you've wanted me. I know what those looks that you sent me mean because I sent them too."
Hermione's brows furrowed. "You mean the death glares?"
"Yes," Draco breathed.
"Oh," she nodded, confused. "Eh… I guess… Okay, you're right. I've wanted you desperately for you as well."
Taking that as the go-ahead sign, Draco sealed her lips with his in a passionate, tongue-twisting admission of their love for each other.
"Wait," Hermione exhaled as she broke their lip-lock. "No, no, Draco this is wrong."
"Of course it's not wrong," Draco whispered in return before connecting his lips to her neck in sporadic kisses. "Why else… would we… be buckled to a bed… together?"
Eyes searching the light rays emitting from the table lamp for some kind of sign that they should stop, she turned toward the blond beneath her on the bed and brought his mouth back to hers after she received no sign.
"Draco," she whispered hoarsely.
"Hermione, I love you," he declared, eyes widening at his own admission before pressing a kiss to her lips. "I always have. I guess… I guess I just denied it."
"Me too," she agreed, kissing him back. "I mean, I love you. I love you, too."
Reaching over blindly with one hand, Draco fumbled to find his wand, before turning the lamp off and tossing his wand on the floor, wherever it may land.
Love conquers all.