o–

Chapter 4

Just remember you must forget

The common room of Slytherin, down in the depths of the dungeons, was said to be a cold, damp place. That was just a myth, since the students within had all the comforts of the other houses. Perhaps the only big different with Gryffindor Tower was the view on the other side of the windows. It was more than anything else due to a considerable difference of heights.

Draco Malfoy could not sleep. He was the only one remaining awake, sitting on his bed amid the massive groans his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle dared to call snores. Draco was toying with his wand between his fingers, though his mind wasn't paying attention to that. His sight was focused beyond the shadows of the room, even more noticeable within the space confined by the curtains of his bed.

He was thinking on Weasley and Granger. He was thinking on all that hatred toward the rule–breakers who always got benefited by that nutty madman Dumbledore. Damn lover of poor people and impure witches.

So little Miss Granger and Mr. Big Jerk Weasley were planning a night of their own, all together and cozy, cuddling each other? Oh, the very idea made Draco tremble with wrath. He wasn't going to allow that. He wanted to hurt them, and he was currently meditating on how to do it.

What would be good?

The first option was to go and tell the professors. Yes, McGonagall, Snape, even maybe nutty Dumbledore. Yes… he would lead them all directly to the happy and naughty couple and he will see the faces of horror while they try to pull away from each other's embrace. They would expel them. Not even Dumbledore could find a loophole around that evidence. Two Prefects of Hogwarts in the middle of a rule–breaking.

Draco quit smiling.

No. Not that. He wouldn't tell. That wasn't enough punishment. Those two deserved something worse. How he missed Professor Umbridge! If only she was still in the castle, Draco wouldn't even hesitate to go and tell her everything.

Filch. Yes, the janitor Filch. He would tell him. He would take action. He wouldn't have mercy. He hated every single student and...

But he didn't hate them as much as Draco did.

And it was then that Draco understood he couldn't tell anybody, because to open his mouth and have them expelled didn't even come close to what those two infractors deserved. After all, the reasons for which Draco wanted to do it weren't limited to school rules.

That is true, he thought. Those bloody friends of Potter think they can have it their way, but they mustn't fear that I'll tell everyone of the nasty things they plan to do. They only have to worry about me! Father, I'm going to revenge you for all your trouble, even if it's just a bit. Yes... that's it... this is not Hogwarts' business...

... this is personal.

–o–

Harry noticed he was suddenly alone. He hadn't realized it, but for the past few days both Ron and Hermione no longer stayed with him for any length of time. Both of them made the excuse by saying their prefect chores had became more intense, but Harry was starting to suspect something was up. Later, he would recall Madeye Moody's attitude and would laugh at mistrusting his friends.

Ron and Hermione had plans of their own. Very intimate plans that they didn't mean to share with anybody else. That they mustn't share with anybody else. They planned the big moment with surgical precision; Hermione had that skill. They used their rounds and patrols and every moment alone. What they were attempting to do had to be meticulously planned.

And so, while Harry was practicing Legerimency, Ron and Hermione were whispering ideas.

"What about next Friday?" murmured Ron out of the corner of his lips.

"Think so?" she whispered.

"Yes, it'd be better that way. Friday or Saturday. As long as we can..." he looked around, as if he would have problems saying it, "... as we can sleep over the next morning."

Hermione blushed, but agreed.

"Yes," she said, "Friday will be okay."

"Legilimens!" yelled Harry. "I know, you are thinking on... on... toast?"

"Yes!" Neville smiled. "That's what I had for breakfast. I was thinking on that, Harry!"

"Well, I'm finally getting the hang of this," he smiled. "What do you think of that, Ron? Hermione?"

The previously mentioned turned their attention to Harry and realized they had missed the last five minutes of practice.

"What?"

"Come again?"

Harry arched one eyebrow, slowly.

"Were you watching? I just saw toast in Neville's head."

"Hah, hah. Good one, Harry," Neville chuckled.

Ron and Hermione blushed. They squirmed uncomfortably on the couch. If Harry was doubtful before, now he was even moreso.

"I was telling Ron about next Friday's patrol round," the girl risked. "We might return late."

"Quite late," added Ron.

"Yes, you see... Well, they asked us to watch longer."

Harry wasn't looking away from his friends. He decided not to push. He had become more conscious ever since Sirius...

He slapped his right cheek.

"For the last time, Harry, stop doing that," said Hermione, recovering her usual seriousness and taking advantage of the situation so Harry would deviate from the topic.

"Fine, fine... Whatever you say," he murmured. He turned toward Neville and exclaimed: "Legilimens! Were you thinking on pumpkin juice?"

"No. Orange juice."

Harry swore under his breath. He attempted to empty his mind and try again.

–o–

There was something unsettling about the way Draco Malfoy watched Ron and Hermione during the following rounds. Sometimes, when there weren't limited jurisdictions, the Prefects of the different houses walked into one another along the halls of Hogwarts. This didn't bother anyone, because everyone enjoyed exchanging some words with a partner. This was evidently different when that partner was a Slytherin.

Draco didn't mind. He preferred to be alone. It was much better to be alone so he could stalk the steps of the happy couple. Malfoy hadn't yet found out where and when the demonstration of love would be performed.

Malfoy wasn't a fool. He knew; or better said, he suspected, where the event would be: that special room on the seventh floor, the same one where he went during the past year with a selected group formed by Umbridge, the Inquisitor Squad. He was sure about the place, but he still needed a date. The time was obvious: during the patrolling rounds, when the castle was in its slumber.

So he followed the lovebirds, knowing that, if they thought they were alone, the idiots would start blabbing. He just had to follow them... Follow them and wait.

Bingo.

"Then it's set," whispered Hermione, trembling slightly. She had tone of contained emotion. "It'll be next Friday... We'll do it next Friday."

Ron nodded. He was also trembling at the emotion that had started to invade his body. Two more days, he thought; two more days and he would live the most intense experience in his life.

He hastily thought on other previous intense experiences from his past, and decided that not even being attacked by a group of Death Eaters inside the Ministry of Magic could match what would happen next Friday.

Malfoy wouldn't miss it, either. Hidden behind a statue representing an elegant wizard with a big cane as wand, Draco smiled evilly upon having finished receiving the needed data.

Friday. Next Friday. It was time to plot revenge.

That night, he couldn't sleep. He was also excited, but more than anything else about the perfection of his plan. He wouldn't just humilliate the happy couple; he wouldn't just make them pay... he was also going to use that for his own benefit. Blackmail, that was the word. He would threaten Granger and Weasley with telling others what he had seen. He would grin at them in the halls with that expression of evil so common on his face. He would make them suffer mind–boggling torments until they couldn't bare it any longer, and then he would break his word and tell all.

And in what a fantastic way! If there could have been any chance of publishing it in the papers... He could already imagine the title in giant letters: MINISTRY EMPLOYEE'S SON AND PREFECT OF HOGWARTS FOUND IN SINFUL SITUATION WITHIN CASTLE LIMITS: "Thanks to the intervention of Draco Malfoy, Prefect of Slytherin, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, ex–strudents and ex–Prefects of Gryffindor, were caught red–handed while they performed sinful actions under the very nose of Albus –idiot– Dumbledore...". And if a compromizing photo was added, the pack was full.

And it would be the beginning. Just the beginning. He would make sure every day of their miserables lives became a storm of memories from that point on. He would remind them of their actions.

But first, and before the gossip, Malfoy resolved to humilliate them in the act. He wanted to make them pay, no matter what.

He thought long and hard. How to annoy in the worst way? He didn't want to limit himself to heavy jokes and pranks; he wanted to hurt. He yearned to see Granger crying in impotence. That's what he wanted.

He grinned. A macabre thought had appeared in the darkest corner of his mind. So little Miss Granger was looking forward to an intense night? Then he could provide her with what she wanted. He would just have to walk up to that moron Weasley and apply the Imperius Curse. Yes, it was as simple as that. He would order him to act normally, and when he and the mudblood were alone he would force him to go too far.

And that's precisely what Malfoy would have done; except for the tiny little detail that he didn't know how to invoke the Imperius.

He cursed all who forbode its teaching. He cursed Potter, since thanks to him his father had been jailed. Lucius had promised his son to teach him the Unforgiveables that summer, when Draco was old enough that he could use his wand outside a school setting. Damn Potter. Damn Weasley.

Damn, damn, damn Hermione Granger.

He toyed with his wand a little more. He had adquired that habit every time he became lost in his thoughts. He lamented on not being able to use the Imperius Curse. He would have to think on something else...

–o–

Friday came.

There exists an environment of excitement when Friday arrives. The weekend is hours ahead, and it cheers up every single student (and teacher) who have spent the previous five days locked in classrooms. So, aomongst the students, more than a few were in moods of notorious high spirits.

And two of them looked way too excited.

"Are you sure you are okay?" Harry asked Ron during a new practice of Legilmancy. "Ron, I believe something is worrying you."

"No, no, I'm just a little tired," he said. "Tonight's round is quite important, and..." he yawned and stretched on the couch of the common room, "... and I'm drowzy."

"Then go to sleep," said his friend. "Hermione's been napping for almost two hours," he paused to stare at his wand and then commented: "She also acts weird."

Ron's brain was, as a matter of fact, exhausted. Nerves were tearing him down, but he still managed to come up with a somewhat true lie.

"That's because we are Prefects. You can't imagine how difficult it is. I mean... I mean... Last year wasn't that bad, but now they demand extra responsibilities to us."

"Oh, and that's why you'll have extended patrols during the night."

Ron realized Harry's selected tone. There was a pinch of sarcasm in the recipe.

"Yes?"

"Oh, good... Because I've been talking with Ernie, Prefect of Hufflepuff, and he had no idea about the extended rounds."

Ron's ears reached an intense color and heat.

"Oh, well, that's because... they... asked... only Hermione and me to... to take those new patrols."

Harry scowled, slightly.

"Fine, whatever you say..." he murmured, next he turned his back on Ron and resumed practicing Legilimency on Neville, who was waiting several meters away.

Ron felt he was saved by a hair. An extremely thin hair. He sighed deeply and relaxed on the couch. He should have gone upstairs and slept a bit, because he was actually tired and he might not last long that night. He wanted to rest for a moment. He closed his eyes and made sure to cool down.

The couch was pretty comfortable. So comfy that he soon yawned with spirit and, before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

There she was, standing next to a bed. Hermione smiled at him while her hands held his, and she guided him slowly to the mattress. On the wooden head of the bed there were carved the initials H + R.

Ron swallowed. Hermione seemed to float toward it, dragging him along. She stopped next to the bed and Ron imitated her. Her hands were warm and soft... just like her smile... just like her glance.

Harry's figure blurred within Ron's visual field. He got scared, glanced around hastily, but there was nobody else around.

A hand as soft as silk, so used to books, was pressed to his right cheek and gently forced him to stare at her. Hermione kept smiling. Ron, forgetting Harry, smiled as well.

They hugged loosely, effortlessly. Their noses rubbed against the other. Their bodies slowly glued one to the other. Hermione closed her eyes and half–opened her tiny mouth, inviting him in. Ron moved to kiss her with passion.

Ron stared immediately to his left. He could have sworn Harry had been there just one thousandth of a second before, but now there was no one. With a slight paranoia, Ron's eyes moved from left to right, up and down, looking, searching...

He heard the gentle whisper of fabric in movement. When he returned his sight to Hermione, the girl had released herself from her robe. A quick glance demonstrated he was in a similar situation. He blushed a bit, but Hermione didn't give him time for anything else. She held his head between her hands, pressing gently on his cheeks, and brought him closer to her O–shaped lips.

They kissed.

Ron opened his eyes. Behind Hermione, just in sight, was Harry. He was staring straight into his eyes.

"Ahh!"

Ron awoke and fell off the couch. Neville and Harry helped him get to his feet.

"Ron! What happened? Was that a nightmare?" asked Neville.

"It was... it was..." Ron stuttered. He noticed Harry was looking at him in worry and quickly thought up for a lie. "It was a dream, yes. I dreamt You–Know–Who appeared and... and... Don't look at me like that!"

Harry shrugged.

"That's what I dreamt!" Ron declared. He shrugged off his partners' arms with a jerk. "I'm going to sleep. I have to be ready for tonight's patrol."

And without another word, he left.

–o–

The prefects of Hogwarts were beginning their patrol rounds. Ron and Hermione had spent ten whole minutes in complete silence. She risked a glance out of the corner of her eye and saw her partner wide–eyed.

"Ron?" she asked, timid. "Is something wrong?"

Ron thought for a moment before replying.

"Did Harry ask you about this patrol?"

"No. Why, did he you?"

"Yes. I believe he suspects us."

They walked along a corridor with statues of famous wizards.

"I don't blame him," she said at last. "Look, we have been hiding this from him for more than a year. He already suffered greately with... with everything that happened around him. I think we should have told him about us, no matter his reaction."

Ron nodded silently.

"I understand. We'll tell him tomorrow," he decided.

"Are you sure?" she hesitated.

"Quite sure. He suspects, already. It'll be better to tell the truth for once and for all."

"Yes... You're right..." they walked in front of several classroom doors. "We tell him tomorrow."

They continued the round normally, or at least as normal as possible for two lovers who had to wait for the best moment to kiss and more; the moment which Ron and Hermione hoped to use to their greatest advantage.

"You think now...?" they said at the same time. They glanced at each other and smiled.

"I believe we both are impatient," she qualificated.

"And nervous."

"And expectative."

"And... and... hot?"

Hermione blushed. "Now that you say so... Yes. I think so."

She felt Ron squeeze her hand in a loving gesture.

"It's time," he said in a drowned voice.

Hermione swallowed and sighed. "It's time," she said, sealing the pact.

–o–

Two shapes stalked in a seventh–floor hall. One of them paced from here to there, thinking deeply.

A door emerged next to them. The shapes approached.

They shared a stare, and nodded. Hermione opened the door and took a look inside. She blushed.

"Ron... This... I never thought..."

"Neither did I," he smiled. "I just asked for what I needed, and the Room of Requirement did the rest."

They hugged briefly. Then she said:

"Let's go, my love. Let's go in."

Ron smiled like a moron. In all that time, Hermione had never called him "my love".

They were about to walk in when a deafing crashing came from the end of the corridor. Ron and Hermione jumped; she even released a little yelp, and they ran to the source of the noise.

Someone had pushed some armor on the perpendicular hall, which had fallen with a metallic clanking way too noticeable at those hours of the night.

"Look, there's ink stains everywhere... And paste!" said Hermione.

Ron examined the nearest walls.

"Somebody has poured soup here and there," he said, and then realized: "I think Peeves was around. Can you fix all of this?"

Hermione nodded and swung her wand. The armor leapt back to their respective places and the ink stains vanished. The soup vaporized.

"Where's Filch?" said Ron, staring alternatively to opposite ends of the corridor.

"He must be way below," Hermione deduced. "All this noise should have alerted him."

Ron forgot all about Peeves. "Then we are alone," he smiled to Hermione. She smiled back.

"Bloody Peeves," she said. "On that I agree with Filch. He almost ruined our moment together."

Ron extended his hand. "Follow me, darling?"

She blushed, but accepted. "Let's go..."

They walked to the door, opened it, and walked inside.

Hermione wondered who had designed that room, especially because it contained all the comfortability a happy couple could possibly need to do.

A good part of the room was occupied by a huge heart–shaped bed, with the softest and most comfortable mattress anybody could ask for, with rose petals spread on its surface. The rest of the room was plagued by pillows; hundreds of pillows of every size, color and format.

It was a room to be comfy in, no doubt.

"Fermaportus!" Hermione whispered nervously to the door. She turned to Ron. "My love... at last..." and she hugged him. "At last..."

"Yes," he murmured, hugging her in return. Then whispered: "I love you..."

Hermione remained silent. He couldn't think a couple of words could affect her so much. She released the hug and stepped back, gazing straight into Ron's eyes.

"W–What?"

Ron understood the reaction, but wasn't going to step back. He approached and hugged her again.

"What you heard," he said, and kissed her. "I love you," another kiss. "I love you, Hermione Granger."

"Ron..." she whispered in drowned tone. "Ron, I... Oh, Ron..."

She threw her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly. An epic kiss followed. They closed their eyes and enjoyed how their tongues explored the other's mouth. That was perfect. It was their moment. Their private moment.

Their hands started to get restless. Both his and hers slid along their beloved's back. But they didn't want to stop the kiss... That was even better than the other option. At their age, a kiss of passion like that one could be much better than anything else.

So they kept it like that. They didn't know how long it lasted, but even if their lips would have been glued for hours, the time was too short for them; no kiss would ever be as strong as this one. The worst part of kissing is not stopping the action, but realizing the kiss must became a memory.

She felt his hands going down her back, stopping right on her tush. That didn't bother her, since her own hands had already taken the same trip on him.

The hell with rules, Hermione thought. He loves me, I love him, we want to do it and we already promised not to go beyond the limits; fine, not that much, anyway. Hermione, you are together with the man you love inside the most private room in all Hogwarts. Do not feel ashamed for what you feel... Just do it.

So she did: she stopped kissing and they gazed into each other's eyes. She smiled.

"Ron... Do you want to...? I mean..."

"Yes," he said. "But only if you want so."

Hermione kissed him again. They closed their eyes and enjoyed the new kiss. Seconds later, still kissing, their robes slid down to the floor.

On the opposite end of the room, something was happening under a small mountain of big and cozy pillows. A hand had just put aside a pink heart–shaped pillow, and now the scene was in sight.

He wished he hadn't done that, but he couldn't help it. There they were, kissing and beginning to remove their clothes. Just a little more. He distractedly patted the artifact in his hand. Just a little more. He saw them laying down on the big bed, still hugging and kissing. Just a little more. The robes were on the floor, between some small pillows. The wands stuck out from their pockets.

Just a little more, Draco... Just a little more, and you'll have them in your claws. Good, sweet revenge. Weasley and Granger would pay. He'd make sure they pay.

He started a little. They had stopped kissing and Hermione had moaned. Draco made sure to hate that sound coming from impure lips. Ron was kissing his beloved's neck, from the jaw and down to the base. Draco didn't want to look... but he had to.

He had to be alert. He had to make his big entrance at the proper time. He had to be ready; he once more patted what he held in his hand. Soon, Draco, soon they will be under your control.

He looked again, and grimaced. The lovers were now in their underwear.

Ron moved back a bit and carefully observed Hermione. She was laying on the soft surface of the mattress. He observed her body, from feet to head. Despite her womanly beauty, he fixed his eyes much longer on her face than anywhere else.

It was strange. Ron had thought he only noticed the superficial... and that was a fact. He considered that feminine body, the one which had gone on so many adventures in the past, was beauty. Her hips had the correct width, they didn't pretend to be wasp–like or chubby. Her legs were actually funny, perhaps because of walking around carrying tons of books. Her bust (and here Ron was forced to blush) wasn't anything out of this world, and however he thought it looked like something he must have deep respect for.

And her face...

... Ron could not define it.

He just couldn't. He observed it there, staring at him and smiling. Her hair, always frizzy, was now falling in random directions all over the mattress. That was the best of all, but he wasn't bringing down anything of the rest. Hermione wasn't pretty of face, neither of bust, neither of hips, neither of legs.

Hermione was beauty in everything at the same time, and everything at the same time was part of that balance of beauty.

I know why I think she's so beautiful, thought Ron. It's because I love her. It's because I truly love her.

Hermione was thinking similar. She watched him staring at her. She saw him kneel in front of her, looking at her at the same time.

She gave him a studious glance, from those red hairs to the knees leaned on the mattress. Ron had grown up, but he still had childish attributes. His face and chest were hairless, and his pectorals were slightly pale and somewhat worked out. To be a Quidditch Keeper demanded physical exercise and muscular work, and despite he didn't need to manipulate a Bludger Bat, he needed the strength in his arms to avoid falling off the broom.

Although Ron didn't show it, he did have muscles. Few, but they were there. His arms hid them pretty good. Inside those wooden sticks there were metal tendons.

And his face...

... Hermione could never define it accurately.

Those freckles and the naive smile made him look like a child. No matter his sixteen years, Ron seemed younger than that. It was a face that included red–hot ears, half in shame and half impatience, and a pair of day–dreaming eyes.

I know why I think he's so handsome, Hermione thought. It's because I love him. It's because I truly love him.

"Hermione..."

Ron placed a hand on her belly, giving it a warm massage.

"Ronald..."

She put a hand on his shoulder, which she stroked.

Ron smiled, but she smiled stronger. She took his hand on the belly with one of hers and gently pushed it on her chest, keeping it there firmly. She found it amusing to see Ron's reddening cheeks.

"Ah... eh... Wow, it seems... you don't care that much about... about the... the rules," the red–haired stuttered.

"I don't mind them, here," she whispered. "I see you don't, either," she added the moment she squeezed his hand, gently.

"Well, if you don't care... why would they care about me?" he smiled.

"You are correct... Why do rules have to matter, when it's about loving?"

Ron didn't like the way Hermione said that. His voice had honey in it, and it was sticking all over his ears.

Hermione straightened until she could tuck her legs underneath her body. Then she knelt in front of Ron. She put her hands on his waist and gave them a soft massage while she spoke.

"Ron... I want you to feel my skin next to yours. I want you to have the honor of... of doing what you couldn't at the Prefect's Bathroom."

Ron blinked, shook his head, and said:

"Me?"

She giggled. It was a soft and joyful laugh.

"You are so sweet, when you work at it! Yes, Ron... You," she kissed him. "You, you, you and only you," she said, adding a kiss after every "you".

Ron smiled with that nervousness he always displayed right before something important. To be alone with Hermione was pretty important. The fact she asked him to remove her bra was even more important. So it was no surprise his hands trembled like jelly while he blindly searched for the bra strap on Hermione's back.

She cheered him up with a couple of kisses, and her lips also trembled. Hermione was nervous, although she demonstrated those as well as Ron demonstrated his hidden muscles. She felt she was ready and didn't want to wait anymore.

His hands found the strap. It was incredible how the mere action of touching a piece of cloth could make the heart get ready to jump out the body. He made an extra effort to keep his brain inside the skull while trying to recall how his fingers worked. Then he did a few sweeps over the hooks of the strap and...

... and that was all. Hermione felt the freedom of that vague pressure and Ron saw how the piece of underwear fell on the mattress. When he looked up, his eyes naturally met with that heavenly and naked body who smiled at him.

"And..." she hesitated, lowering her eyes and blushing, "... what do you think?"

Ron managed to stop his runaway Adam's Apple and, after a most impressive mental battle, was able to come out with the best answer a man could ever give.

"Ggg..." he said.

She laughed in happiness and squeezed him against herself in a powerful hug. Ron returned from the shock and felt the heat of her skin on his. They hugged, they stroked... and they fell again, right there, knelt one in front of the other, in a long and passinate kiss of pure love.

Draco Malfoy was looking. He felt sick. It was horrible. Just the thought of touching the shoulder of the horrible mudblood brought shudders all over his body. To imagine that was a disgrace... But to witness it was far too much.

That's it, he thought. This is the moment I was waiting for.

Both hands gripped on the artifact. One of them slid down to his pocket and produced his wand. Then he moved a big teddy bear–shaped pillow and placed the artifact in position. It was aiming at the lovers.

Draco smiled. He couldn't resist it, no more.

"SMILE!"

Hermione screamed; so did Ron. They jumped away from each other just as an intense white flash blinded them. They covered their eyes, but it was too late already. Someone was laughing.

Ron sent his hand to his pocket, but then recalled both Hermione and him had gotten rid of their clothes. They were only wearing the minimun required to cover those parts they weren't ready to show. So he crawled until the foot of the bed and extended his hand to his robe.

"Accio!" laughed that cold voice. Ron and Hermione's wands flew from the robes' pockets and were caught by Draco Malfoy's hand.

"You!" Ron roared, red in embarrassement and wrath. "You damn...!"

"Freeze!" Malfoy warned him, aiming his wand straight at him. Ron stopped just before jumping at him and obeyed with extreme reluctance. "That's better, Weasley..." Draco smiled. "Well, well, well... What do we have, here? It looks to me like two Prefects in a very illegal position. How are you, Granger? Put some clothing on, would you? I can't tolerate looking at you that way."

Ron risked a glance over his shoulder. Hermione, terrified, had dragged herself to the head of the bed and was covering her chest with a smiling pillow.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, returning his full attention to Malfoy. "How did you get in? How did you know...? What the bloody hell are you doing, here?"

"My duty as Prefect, of course. How did I know, you ask? You and the mudblood have big mouths. You shouldn't talk of your little private business while you patrol. How did I get in? Merely a couple of spells and you both thought that good for nothing poltergeist was around. I took advantage of that to slip in here and hide myself under that heap of pillows."

Ron alternated his sight between Malfoy's horrible expression of satisfaction and the tip of his wand. Then he looked back at Hermione, now covering herself with the blanket. She was still scared, and Ron could swear she murmured "They're going to expell us... They're going to expell us... It's all my fault..."

He returned his attention to Malfoy, to his wand... to his other hand.

"Oh, damn..."

"Ah! You mean this, pauper?" Malfoy laughed, raising his hand and showing a photographic camera. "Yes, it's a wizard's camera, and inside it there's a picture of you two, pretty comfy together and breaking the rules."

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione spoke between sobs, from behind.

"Why? Granger, Granger, there are so many reasons... Let's see, let's see... we have, for instance, that you are a mudblood. That should be reason enough, but there's more: you are a mudblood and friend of Potter.

Malfoy smiled almost insanely. He was enjoying the situation like a gigantic party.

"That's not a reason!" Hermione began to cry.

"Of course it is... Your stupid friend Potter was responsible for putting my father behind bars. You helped him out. You are on my revenge list, which I'll carry out right now. Here I have a photo I'm dying to show to everyone at school."

Both Ron and Hermione felt their hearts go cold.

"You bloody won't!" yelled Ron. He got ready to jump at him, but a red beam scratched his right ear. Hermione squeaked, but Ron decided to back away, falling on his back and scooting backwards until he reached her, hugging and consoling the girl.

"Be careful, Weasley," whispered Malfoy, quitting the smile. "To attack a Prefect is a severe mistake."

Hermione cried stronger and hid her head on Ron's chest. He hugged her absent–mindedly. All his attention was focused on Malfoy.

"What's the price?" he whispered.

"Pardon me?" asked Draco, smiling again.

"Don't play the fool! You want to blackmail, that's what you want..."

"Quite true."

"... so tell us the bloody price."

Malfoy gestured as if he was thinking on that, although it was obvious he didn't need to. After a while he said:

"No price."

"What!"

"I said no price. What could you possibly give me that I could ever wish? Money? Hah! You are poor and she wouldn't gather enough as for satisfying me! And besides, I am rich already," he smiled more. "I didn't come here after money or belongings, Weasley... I've come looking for revenge."

He shook the camera and exclaimed,

"Tomorrow at this time the entire school will know what you did!" and Hermione cried louder after hearing that. "I will make sure copies of this photo appear in every corner of the castle: hanging on every message board, awaiting in every desk of every professor and, of course, in the hands of your very own parents."

"No!" Hermione was horrified. Her parent's didn't know all her adventures in Hogwarts, but from to be handed such a photo... "Malfoy, don't do it! I'll do whatever you ask, but don't spread that photo!"

"No, Hermione..." Ron hugged her.

"Ron, there's nothing we can do! He has our wands, look... We doesn't have anything to hurt him with, only these ugly pillows that won't do anything good. He has all the winning cards... We can't do anything."

"You better believe it," Malfoy whispered, smiling. "And I don't want anything from you. Except, of course... to see your faces when you get punished for what you've done, you naughty children."

Malfoy backed up toward the door without deviating the wand's aim from the young lovers, although they couldn't do a thing to avoid his actions. Ron stared at Malfoy from the bed with a hatred so big it surpassed what Malfoy himself felt toward him. He just limited himself to hugging Hermione, who was currently crying her frustration out on his shoulder.

Malfoy tried to open the door. It was sealed shut.

"Hah!" Ron laughed. "I was expecting you to do that! Hermione sealed the entrance, and only she can remove the spell!"

"Oh, yes? My, then I suppose it will be a total waste to try something like this, won't it?"

For Ron's horror, Draco aimed his wand to the door and performed a quick flourish. There was a sound like a suck, but inverted.

"Goodnight, lovebirds," Malfoy smiled. He opened the door and stopped dead. "What the hell–?"

Hermione yelled again. Ron startled. Malfoy shook and stumbled backwards, falling on some pillows. When the lovers stared at the door they saw Harry rubbing his knuckles.

"Damn you, Potter!" Malfoy groaned while holding his jaw. He raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand at the same time as the camera. Ron and Hermione's wands had also fell. Harry aimed his at them.

"Accio!" he said. The wands were propelled into his hand, and from there were thrown to the bed. "Take them!" said Harry, who didn't seem too surprised at seeing his friends in such a situation.

Draco took advantage of the distraction to push Harry out of the room. He closed the door and turned on time to jump at his wand.

"The camera! Hermione, the camera!" Ron yelled. "Diffindo!"

The spell blasted from the tip of his wand and hit the camera full–on, making it bounce and go through a pillow, making it explode in a shower of goose feathers.

"Petrificus Totalis!"

Malfoy's spell hit Ron, who fell on his back on the mattress. Hermione screamed, this time in rage, stood up and aimed Malfoy. He aimed at her.

"You put a spell on the camera," she whispered.

"Of course I did. I'm not an idiot, Granger."

Harry made his return in that moment. He also aimed at Malfoy.

"Two against one," Harry said. "You better surrender."

Draco laughed. "I don't mind surrendering. You can't destroy the evidence! And you can tell whoever you wish: even Dumbledore himself will agree I was doing my job!"

"That's a lie!" yelled Harry.

"H–Harry... Lower your wand, please."

Harry heard the words coming out Hermione's mouth, but he couldn't understand their meaning. He looked at her and surprised when seeing her pointing her wand at him.

"What are you doing?"

She bit her lower lip. "He's right. Malfoy is right. We can not avoid it, so at least I will carry on with my duty as Prefect the best I can. I still am a Prefect, you know."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Despite being dressed only by a pink blanket with random petals of roses attached to it, Hermione seemed threatening.

"Harry, you was in the halls at night. That's not good."

"Are you insane? Hermione, you–!"

"Don't talk to me!" she squeaked. "I was blinded by very basic human instincts. Now I'll get what I deserve. Harry, don't make this any more difficult. It's better that this bad night is forgotten."

"No one is going to forget it, Granger," Malfoy smiled. "No one is ever going to forget this."

"I believe," Hermione said, slowly and purposedly, "it is possible to forget. It's as simple as swinging a wand. Harry, no matter what happens, do not attempt to escape. Do not attempt it."

And Harry understood. Hermione was asking him to do something. He had to distract Malfoy. His foot settled next to a round pillow nearby as he slowly nodded.

"Yes... It is true... I was taking a walk out–NOW!"

Draco was about to cast a new spell, but his arm was hit by a flying pillow coming from who–knows–where, which gave Harry enough time to dodge.

"You won't get away this time, Potter..."

"No! We'll just see if I don't!"

Hermione raised her wand, inhaled deeply and shouted.

"Obliviate!"

It hit Draco straight in the head. The boy fell and landed on the many pillows. Hermione approached, walking slowly due to the many pillows and with the few clothes she had left. Between she and Harry, they helped Draco stand up.

"Memory modifier spell," she gasped. "Never tried it, before. I hope he's fine."

"I hope you hurt him badly," said Harry with no sign of remorse.

Draco opened his eyes. They wasn't focusing on anything.

"What happened? Where am I?" he asked.

"Malfoy, you are patrolling the corridor and just recalled your round is over," said Hermione. "You are tired and only want to sleep."

"Oh. Good."

"When you wake up, you will remember all this as a dream, and you will never try it again."

"Ah. Fine."

"Come, I'll bring you to the door. Remember: you don't remember a thing."

"What about?"

"That's how I like it. Now, go."

"Mmm... Okay."

Draco went away, slightly staggering toward the walls. Hermione made sure he wouldn't return and sealed the door again.

She ran to aid Ron. She applied the anti–spell on him and Ron jumped.

"Harry!"

Hermione seemed to recall Harry was there, and definitely remembered she was barely clothed under the blanket, so she blushed and began to dress while Ron had all of Harry's attention.

"Harry! You came just in time!" said Ron, and then realized his words. "What are you doing here?"

Harry smiled. "I've read your mind."

"What? Me? When?"

"Twice. Once was some time ago, when you went upstairs to your room to sleep; and then this afternoon, when you fell asleep on the couch. Er, sorry, I saw yourself with Hermione and... well, I saw all the plans for tonight."

"Then why did you come?"

"Malfoy," said Harry. "This morning he was quite perky in the Great Hall, and I felt curious. I read his mind before returning to Gryffindor Tower and I saw his plans for tonight as well."

There was a moment of heavy silence. Only the rustling of Hermione's robe could be heard when she passed it over her head.

"Well... eh... Thanks a lot," whispered Ron. He felt so guilty.

"Harry," spoke Hermione, now decent. "I'm so sorry for not having told you. I mean, you were so... I don't know... We didn't want you to..."

Harry smiled. "It's okay, really. I'm glad to know. Anyway, I was beginning to suspect. And now... can I ask you two a favor?"

"Never to do any of this ever again again?" Ron risked.

"Not really. I just want you to modify my memory as well."

"What for?" Hermione asked.

"Two reasons. First, I'd like to forget I've seen you two in bed," Ron and Hermione were blushing red. "And second, I believe the night is still young."

"Eh?"

"I'm trying to say," resumed Harry, winking at them, "that it's still early to go to bed. To the tower's beds, anyway."

Ron and Hermione were now two tomatoes ready to be harvested. Ron approached his friend.

"Sheesh, Harry... What can I say..."

"Just say Obliviate, preferibly with the wand up. And if you want to tell me about your situation, tomorrow will be better. Right now, I only want to forget."

Ron hugged his friend. Then Hermione did so.

"Thanks for everything, Harry. And now... step back, please. I need more room..."

Harry nodded and obeyed. Hermione aimed her wand at him. The last thing Harry knew was that she had yelled "Obliviate!" and everything he recalled of that night began to drain like the water of a bathtub when the cork is pulled out.

–o–

"Is that true? Hermione and you? Well, eh... Well! Congratulations!" Harry smiled the next morning, during breakfast. Ron and Hermione, curiously happier than imaginable, were sitting together, hugging, and had informed their friends of the love they felt.

"I thought it was strange," smiled Neville from the other side of the table. "Well, you two are always together, now that you both are Prefects. Yes, I think you are kind of an ideal couple."

The congratulations went on along the table. Minutes later everyone was focusing on their own breakfasts, as did Ron and Hermione.

"Good. We said it and the world is not over," Ron smiled. "I can enjoy my breakfast, now."

"Yes. I'm a little sorry for Malfoy, though. I believe I over–powered the spell when... Nevermind."

They stared at Slytherin's table. Crabbe and Goyle looked at their boss and wondered why had he attended breakfast wearing pajamas. The others who also witnessed the event giggled at a confused blonde Slytherin.

"By the by, what ever happened with that camera?" whispered Ron.

"I took it and wished to have a good place to hide it."

"And?"

Hermione smiled. "The Room of Requirement understood, so it opened a hole to outer space."

"Get out!"

"It's true".

Ron smiled. No one asked why.

"It's all right. We love each other and... last night is safe. There're no photos, and everybody who knew have forgotten. It's all right," Ron said.

Just in that moment, though, they managed overhear Harry's voice while he chatted with Dean Thomas.

"I think tomorrow I will practice Legilemancy with Ron or Hermione. I'm becoming pretty good at it."

Ron and Hermione remained silent and exchanged a new glance.

"Hermione, do you think you can teach me Occlumancy in less than twenty–four hours?"

"I hope so... To the library!"

And they left the table together. No one asked why.

–o–

The End

–o–