A/N: *screams* HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GET A CHAPTER OUT HERE???? I know, I know, and I'm sorry. I suck! Let's get it over with. I would have never gotten it out by now (gasp) if it wasn't for Suki Elvenborn, who pestered me and helped me transmit my thoughts onto paper (as it were). THANK YOU!!!!

Now, in order for you guys to get one of the jokes in this fic, you'll have to have read "Letters to Draco," an early fic, which was taken off of ff.net by the *&^@!$*'s on top. If you want to read the short lil bit (which only take 2 minutes) paste the following link into a browser: http://www.geocities.com/serpentotheelves/letters2draco4 . It's the last entry at the bottom. While you're there, check out the homepage: http://www.geocities.com/serpentotheelves/fanfichome ! Now, the moment you've all been waiting for…

***

Draco woke. Looking crabbily around his dismal room, he shoved off his blankets, and stomped to his bathroom to view his lovely face.

At a glance, Draco didn't even recognize his own face. The scowl that was only replaced with a mocking smirk ceased to exist. His eyes looked friendly, his hair turning blonde from the sun exposure, and (this was the worst) he was developing a tan.

Draco felt his mouth drop, but he did nothing to stop it. "Oh my god," he whispered, terrified. "I'm turning into a blonde Harry Potter."

Draco ran from the freak in the mirror at breakneck speed to his bed, plopping down at break-neck speed. Panting, he lifted his head to glance around the room, looking for the little ninja that was in every dream Draco ever had. He jumped up, sprinted all of two meters, and tripped over yesterday's clothes. Without standing up, he pawed open his dresser and grabbed the first black coloured garment his fingers touched. Fortunately, the dresser was full of them.

Struggling on a shirt, Draco tried to run to the bathroom, failed, stood back up, fell again, put the shirt on, and finished the long trek to the bathroom.

Grabbing a glob of Snape's Hair Solution (TM), Draco carefully gelled back his hair into his sleek trademark that had been called "beaver butt" by so many original thinkers. Draco's lower lip trembled, and he felt little pinpricks of tears behind his eyes… His hair no longer blended into the colour of his pale face.

Curse the vile sun, and curse that Mudblood Granger for making him go into it!! There was only one thing to do in this dire of a situation: take a trip to his mother's room…

***

Draco bursted into his bedroom, panting. On his list of Things Never to Do Again, that was on top. Death by pink suffocation was not the way Draco wanted to go.

Taking a deep breath, he strode bravely into the bathroom, grasping a small vile that he had procured from his mother's room. "Remember," Draco told his reflection, his voice trembling, "I'm only doing this because I love you."

Checking one more time to see if anyone was coming (no one was; it was four o'clock in the morning) and giving his room a visual check (didn't he have green sheets, not white ones? Oh well…), he boldly poked an index finger into the bottle. He shivered. The contents were cold and slimy, and generally unpleasant. Draco splattered the glob onto his face.

His reflection gazed dumbly at him. What was he supposed to do now?

While contemplating that little query, Draco caught sight of Fenny the house elf walking into his bedroom. Letting out an un-flattering yelp that could have woken the dead (if they weren't so pleased with their current state), Draco slammed the door. He tried rubbing off the glob that had taken up residence on his forehead, but only succeeded in spreading it like the Black Plague over Britain.

"Knock first!!" Draco roared through the door.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy!" came Fenny's squeaky reply. "I was just giving Miss Granger some of her clean clothes!"

Red with embarrassment and fury, Draco shouted, "Well, congrads; you got the wrong room."

There was a slight pause, during which Draco grew extremely nervous. "Right?" he called, losing some of his confidence. He looked around the bathroom. ''Uh-oh...'' Guys don't have makeup littering the sink. Or 'sweet' smelling things that secretly made guys gag. Or... (gasp) pads... Something was terribly wrong.

Draco heard a feminine voice clear their throat. "Can I help you?" the voice asked.

Biting his lower lip, Draco opened the door. There was Hermione, damn her, with a slight smirk on her face. Draco could see from over her shoulder that it was definitely not his room. Guys don't have romance novels or teddy bears, and Draco would never have half-finished homework assignments this early in summer vacation. She frowned. "What's that on your face?" she asked, trying to touch his forehead.

"N-nothing..," he stammered, backing away.

Hermione gave him a motherly smile. "Are you wearing make-up?" she asked. Oh, how he wanted to reach out and deck her... "Because I think 'Ivory' is too dark. How about... 'Whale Bone'?"

Draco gave her a glare that would have sent a blood-thirsty vampire about his business. Since he had nothing nice to say (and he couldn't think of a comeback), he said nothing.

"See," she said, her voice taking on the edge of a cosmetic consultant, "you need to rub in the foundation so it doesn't look uneven." She reached out her hand to rub in the foundation, when...

"Hey!" she yelped. "You bit me!!" She cradled the offended hand as Draco ran past her and out into the hallway.

Leading a vicious counter-attack, the ninja retreats... for now. Draco narrated to himself. He would get Granger back... oh that he would.

***

Hermione carefully washed her hand to avoid any and all infection the bite might have. Why in the name of learning would he be wearing makeup? And what was he doing in her bathroom? Was he wearing makeup because he felt the need to impress her? Did he "accidentally" go into her bedroom because he secretly loved her, and wanted to get closer? Thus, his unconsciousness led him into her room instead of his? Hermione felt her heard skip a beat. She felt her heart jump to her throat, and couldn't get it back down. For once in her life, a boy might like her for being… her.

***

Draco snarled and paced around the room, cradling his injured ego. Bitch. Slut. Whore. How dare she make a fool of Draco Lerato Malfoy!? He'd kill her if he had the chance, he really would. One swift cut and all the insides would be out… or he could always force her to do it. Use the Imperious Curse… Make her commit seppuku…

Tearing his mind from the terribly attractive visions, he thought of a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Summoning all the genius he knew he had, he dropped himself to the bed and stared at a poster of Romeo and Juliet the caretaker from the year before had left behind. His former caretaker was a mudblood, which is why he was the servant, and fascinated by early Muggle works. He poked around his room, shuffling things around, desperately looking for something, anything, that would lead him to the brilliant plan he knew his mind contained. A book fell to the ground with a loud thud. Draco turned around and looked down. The Bible. Draco glanced at the open page. One word stood brilliantly against the white background: 'Iscariot.'

Draco grinned, and looked back at Romeo's loving face. "Checkmate," he whispered.

***

A/N: Ya know, after I finished this portion I poked around ff.net, looking at all the reviews I have, others got, and I flamed a couple of stinkers. I got so depressed… there's a fic called "Quarantine", maybe some of you have read it, that made me want to write. Personally, (and don't get me wrong; I love "Quarantine,") I liked my fic better. It has everything I like in it. Humour, romance, insults, ninja references… But I only have 100 odd reviews, whilst this fic had 900-something. It makes me sad. Hey, I could go on, so visit me Online Author Blog (http://www.livejournal.com/users/serpentothelves/) for Harry Potter discussion with me or other reviewers. Get sneak peaks of me stories and such!

Don't forget to review on your way out!