Chapter Five
&&&&&&&&
The Revised Set of House Rules
Agreed Upon By Both Parties (i.e., Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy)
1.It
is most encouraged to mind each other's business, unless said
business involves the other counterpart in many ways more than one.
2.The
schedule agreed upon by both parties (involving time usage of
bathroom, etc.) must be strictly followed to maintain peace and
order in the living quarters.
3.The
Common Room must be kept clean at all times.
4.Access
to private bedrooms is not given to people other than the resident
of the bedroom.
5.Snacks
must be provided at all times during study hours, preferably if both
parties are working through the long hours of the night.
6.Flying
must be tolerated.
7.No
one, apart from the Heads, is allowed to enter the Head's living
quarters.
8.Bathroom
usage should not exceed an hour and a half. Please bear in mind to
keep it clean for the benefit of the next user.
9.If
one is tardy for any tasks related to Head Students' duties and if
one fails to follow the rules, there will be consequences.
Consequences will be dealt and handled by the Head who had to put up
with the other Head's lack of responsibility.
10.No
attractions. Please. Spare me.
&&&&&&&&
Draco scrutinized the parchment Hermione had tacked up on their bulletin board – apparently, the Head Girl was quite busy over the weekend. Scrunching up his nose in irritation, he turned round to look at her.
"You made a new set of rules?" he said slowly.
Hermione looked up from her book and replied, "Hmm."
"Without my consent?"
"Didn't really need your consent, did I?" she answered coolly, which made Draco's blood boiling – he had to restrain himself from pulling off his hair in frustration.
"What the bloody hell was wrong with the rules we had?" he exclaimed.
"Relax, Malfoy," Hermione said, standing up and walking towards him, "It's just a revision – and about three new rules. Besides, this one will be official. The old set of rules were, in some words, rather messy."
"Messy?" Draco huffed in indignation. For her information, he had thought quite hard about those rules during the Welcoming Feast – he'd even missed their loony Headmaster's speech just so that he could complete the list! And now she was going to tell him that it was messy? "I wrote down those rules in the most orderly way I could possibly do –"
"You wrote them on a scrap piece of parchment, Malfoy," Hermione told him flatly. "And then later on, chucked it into the fire. How in the world can you consider that the old set of rules could be official?"
Draco glared at her. "And you suppose that this –" pointing rudely at the neatly pinned parchment with Hermione's handwriting – "is official? Agreed by both parties, my arse! You didn't even tell me you were revising our rules last weekend –"
Hermione shrugged, throwing her hands up in the air in impatience. "What is the big deal, Malfoy? They're practically the same anyway – just a bit of fixing here and there –"
"Flying must be tolerated!" He threw her a terribly aggravated look. "Since when has flying been related to Head duties?"
"You should have noticed that your training gets in the way of our nightly patrolling –"
"—don't care about the bloody patrols—"
"—therefore I think it's just right that you reasonably lessen your—"
"—think you just included the bloody rule out of spite, Granger—"
"Excuse me?" Hermione huffed. "What makes you think that?"
Draco crossed his arms. "This is just your petty revenge for that time I made you fly with me."
"I am not that childish!" she protested. How ironic, Draco thought when right after her protest, she stomped her foot on the floor rather immaturely. Hermione's cheeks were flushed red. "You have training every Wednesdays and Fridays now and on those days make you late for patrolling—"
"Wednesdays are handled by the bloody Hufflepuffs, Granger," he retorted, "And Friday is only one day of the week – you practically have me every night anyway."
Somehow, that didn't come out right.
"You know what I mean." Strangely, the room felt quite warmer.
Hermione coughed impatiently. Apparently she was too bloody dense to get the implications of Draco's words. "Oh, fine then – we'll have to change that later on…" she grabbed her book bag from the sofa and adjusted her hair. "It's seven fifteen, let's go."
"Where?"
"To breakfast, of course!" Hermione rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue in irritation. Seeing as Draco was not making any motion to budge from his spot, Hermione took his bag as well and went over to him. "I'll discuss the rules with you on the way." Taking him by the arm, she led him out of the Heads Common Room.
&&&&&&&&
"Here's a copy of the rules for you." Hermione gave him a small piece of parchment. "It's laminated so that it won't rip, get crumpled or anything. You can use it as a bookmark. Handy, isn't it?"
Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Pathetic, Granger. You really are pathetic." But he took it anyway and scanned through the rules. "What's this about consequences?"
"Simply means that if you're late or acting irresponsibly, I get to make you do whatever I want in one whole day. The rule's only effective if it directly affects our tasks as Heads and activities as class partners."
"What sort of consequences?"
"Oh, you know," she shrugged, "like walking around school in a pink tutu and prancing about blowing fairy dust on everyone. Or placing pink bows on your beautiful hair."
"Lovely, I'd relish in seeing you do exactly what you just said." Draco slyly smiled. Now this rule was pretty interesting—if he got on the right end of it. Consequences indeed. It sounded… fun. Especially if Granger was on the wrong end and he had the power to make her do anything he wanted.
Imagine—a whole day having her to serve him hand and foot! It was a lovely dream he was going to add to his goals this year. And he particularly liked what Hermione said as an example: if he was careful enough, she would be the one wearing that pink tutu and she'd be the one bestowing blessings on everyone else! Hell, if that actually happened, he was going to have to ask his mother to send him their wizarding camera… or perhaps he'd just have to pay that creepy Colin Creevey from Gryffindor.
"Hmm," he murmured, tucking the laminated parchment in his robe pocket, "Your revision wasn't all that bad, Granger—well, except for that ruddy rule on flying."
"I told you," Hermione replied a-matter-of-factly, "They aren't so bad, are they?"
"No, not at all. In fact, they could benefit me—I'd have guaranteed snacks every night and I get to make you do whatever I want." He grinned cheekily at her.
She, in turn, rolled her eyes and smirked. "Please, Malfoy, you should know by now that I am never late. You, on the other hand, always are."
"People can change, Granger," he replied, "People can change. Starting today, I will always be punctual."
Hermione snorted. "Sure—you're capable of that, what with your snogging schedule, Quidditch, bumming around time—"
"I do not bum around—"
Upon entering the Great Hall, the Head Boy and the Head Girl were still bickering. Hermione was now laughing and Draco was—in some bizarre way—laughing with her. Not, of course, because of the same reasons; Hermione was laughing at Draco and Draco was simply picturing the embarrassment he would cause her in his head, which was, to him entirely entertaining that he was already laughing loudly… albeit evilly.
"You laugh strangely, Malfoy," Hermione suddenly muttered, giving him an odd look. "It's scary."
He stopped laughing. Draco bore an affronted expression. He sounded scary when he laughed? Why, that couldn't possibly be! All the other girls thought the sound of his laughter was melody, beautiful, tinkling music in their ears—why, sometimes, they even found it sexy; his own mother proclaimed that his laughter sounded the way someone very much full of merriment should perfectly sound. Apparently, Hermione Granger was quite deaf. He did not sound scary. What did she know?
Instead, he simply bit back, "Well, you laugh like a chipmunk, Granger."
That made her gasp in indignation. She glared at him and then—
"I'll see you at Arithmancy, Malfoy." And before she departed, she dug her heel into his expensive black shoes, which made him yelp in pain and, as a reaction, made him pull at the back of her robes just as she turned away from him in an attempt to make her trip. Instead though, she fell back against him with a shriek and both of them crashed onto the floor.
Hermione was literally on top of him and Draco was sprawled right under her and was, unfortunately, suffocating because of the great bush of curls she called hair. Unknowingly he brought both his hands through her hair—How soft, he thought absent-mindedly—and pushed it away from his face. Then, he found his way to her shoulders and forced her to get up.
"Will you get off me, Granger!" He said in a muffled tone. His toe was still aching and he desperately needed to breathe—not because of her hair now, mind you, but because if Hermione did not get off any sooner, he was going to get quite addicted to the scent of her. He realized she smelled… lovely. She was like a whiff of strawberries.
And no, bloody hell, he did not just think of that.
Sooner or later, Hermione scrambled up to her feet—Draco suddenly missed her lying on top of him and he didn't really want to know why—and dusted her robes while glowering hatefully at him. "You're such a child, Malfoy," she hissed, but even then, she immediately offered her hand to help him up and he took it, regaining his composure and doing his best to rid his nose of her strawberry scent.
"Your fault, Granger," he snapped, "I'll see you later." He really had to get away from her now—in a course of five minutes from the Common Room to the Great Hall, his irritation with her changed into something weird. Thanks to that awfully embarrassing accident of crashing down to the floor with her, Draco now knew how soft her hair was and how nice she smelled up close.
"See you." She grunted.
And they pushed open the huge doors of the Great Hall and parted ways.
&&&&&&&&
Draco was distracted today.
And Pansy wanted to know why.
But of course, he wasn't going to tell her anything. He never told her anything nowadays anyway, and she was, as his future spouse, very much pained. She still very much remembered the first trip of the year to Hogsmeade when Draco bought that stupid quill for an anonymous person.
Even now, he wasn't paying attention to his food, and was absent-mindedly buttering an already buttered-enough slice of bread. He was obviously deep in thought about something—or Pansy suspected, someone—and she wanted to divert all his attention to her.
"Draco," she cooed, accidentally-on-purpose absent-mindedly placing her perfectly manicured hand on his arm, "whatever is the matter?"
As expected, he didn't answer. Pansy screwed her nose up in an ugly way.
Then she tried stroking his arm, drawing imaginary circles onto his skin, hoping that that would snap him back to reality. "Draco?"
And indeed, his gray eyes snapped up to look at her. "Pansy," he began, "I have a question to ask and you'd better answer it truthfully."
She gleefully nodded her head and made her hand travel upwards towards his shoulder in the most seductive way possible. "Yes, what is it?"
Perhaps he was going to ask her on a date on the next Hogsmeade visit! Or maybe he was going to ask her to be his official girlfriend—maybe even better; he might want to ask her to marry him!
…But what came instead deflated and annoyed her.
"Does my laugh sound scary?"
She had to ask him to repeat his question, which he did accordingly.
"That's your question?" she blankly replied. "The one I have to answer truthfully to?"
He nodded. "Well, does it?"
Always about him, wasn't it?
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just answer the bloody question, Pans!"
She scrutinized him strangely. "Well, I can't possibly give you a proper answer—I mean, you don't laugh at all."
He seemed to take that as offense.
"Well, it's true, Draco," she reasoned. It was true—Draco Malfoy never laughed. He snickered, chuckled, cackled, snorted, hooted but he never laughed. Not in the way a normal person was to do so, anyway.
"I do too laugh," he snapped, "And for your information, other girls find it sexy."
"What other girls?" Pansy demanded.
Draco waved his hand impatiently. "Answer my question, Pansy: does my laughter sound so frightening?"
Pansy sighed silently and smiled ever so sweetly at him. Resuming the play of her hands, she replied, in a sultry way, "Of course not, Draco—the sound of your laughter gets me so… excited."
That seemed to please him a lot that his mood eventually got brighter.
&&&&&&&&
Rule number nine came into effect on the twenty-fifth of October. Draco Malfoy was the first to face the consequences due to—er—some pathetically low reasons, but of course, if one mentioned that to him, he'd protest, saying that his reasons were perfectly sensible, and then you'd hear the Head Girl in the background, snorting at whatever he said and saying that they were stupid reasons, completely expected of someone like Draco.
His reason was this: on one particularly important meeting with the House Prefects in preparation for the Halloween Feast, Draco had not showed up at all, therefore leaving Hermione to deal with the meeting—not that she minded though, she'd admit, because for once, the usual presence of their bickering was lacking and as an effect, the meeting had gone smoothly.
When confronted by the Head Girl back at the Common Room, the Head Boy grinned sheepishly at her—something very un-Malfoy-like, because Malfoys did not grin sheepishly—and had the grace to blush, saying that he had been out with Girl Fling #31 and had forgotten that they had that 'stupid meeting with the bloody Prefects'.
Hermione would not listen to him and did not give him the benefit of the doubt; merely, she looked at him, smirked, and told him to be prepared for anything on the following Saturday. She would not tell him what she wanted him to do for her, explaining that it would ruin anything that she had planned—Draco did not think much of it, though, because Hermione, the ever pristine member of Gryffindor, would never do anything quite harmful or extremely embarrassing to him.
And so now, The Saturday two days before Halloween, Draco woke up at around nine am, dragged himself out of his bed covers, and proceeded to the bathroom. Hermione, apparently, had already gone because it certainly smelled like her—strawberries—and so he took his time in everything. Sleep was still in his eyes and he leant down the sink to wash his face and brush his teeth. He took a towel, dried his face and blearily looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He smiled drowsily, thinking how handsome he still looked in the morning, and went on to take a shower, when—
His eyes widened in realization and he dashed to look at himself once again. At the sight of his reflection, he let out a helpless whimper.
His hair. Was. Black.
His hair. Was. Black.
HIS HAIR WAS BLACK!
Gone were the beautiful light blonde locks, only to be replaced by dreadful, horrible, ugly black tresses. Oh, Good Merlin. He had the hair of Harry Bloody Potter! Oh, dear—his hair was already looking as untidy as the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived! Panicking rather loudly, Draco tore off his clothes and jumped into the shower, turned the tap to the most extreme and prayed that it was just some dye that could be washed out without magic.
But it was to no avail—his hair was still as black and Draco, in desperation, rushed back into his room, put on some clothes, grabbed his wand and went back to the bathroom. He pointed his wand at his hair and muttered, "Finite Incantatem."
It didn't work.
Running a pale hand through his ugly black hair, he sauntered out of the bathroom, then out of the Common Room and made his way to the Great Hall.
Hermione Granger was going to be murdered.
&&&&&&&&
As if a plague washed over the students that morning, everyone suddenly gasped in unison and then held their breaths in silence. Hermione was reading a book whilst eating her cereal and she looked up uninterestedly, wondering what the commotion could be about. It was only when she chanced upon a familiar looking Slytherin did she almost choke and laugh.
Draco looked angry. Very angry. Obviously, he had finally noticed the ebony locks she had given him when he was still fast asleep, and he wasn't very pleased. Oh, no—he was far from it. In fact, Draco was writhing in anger. He purposefully glanced towards the direction of the Gryffindor table, found her, and started walking towards her.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR?" he roared, and everyone there looked at the two of them curiously.
Ron began to howl in laughter. Glancing at Hermione, he said in a very proud voice, "You did this to him?" Turning towards Harry, he said, "Bloody hell, Harry, after all these years, we thought he hated you—he was part of your fan club after all!"
Harry shook in laughter as he joined him. "Merlin's sake, Malfoy, if you idolized me that much, you shouldn't have overdone it—I mean, no need to imitate my hair—"
Draco looked as if he was about to jump them, but, perfectly knowing that he was Head Boy, he instead, restrained his anger, and satisfied himself with glowering at the third member of the bloody trio. "What the bloody hell did I do to you?" he bawled, reaching up to grab a few strands of his newly colored hair.
Hermione smiled cheekily. "That's the beginning of your consequences, Malfoy," she replied.
"WHAT?"
"You're to have your consequences today, remember?" Hermione explained calmly. "It's not so bad, is it?"
A vein twitched. He wore an ugly scowl. He wanted to lunge at her. But he couldn't do anything because of the stupid rule. Bloody brilliant.
Hermione continued to smile. "Now run along and come back when I say so," she said, "I'll be needing you later."
And now she was ordering him around! The ruddy shame he was going to have to face when he returned to Slytherin…
Pansy shrieked in horror when he sat down in front of her. All the other girls at the table joined her and now they were all crying—they were actually sobbing. Pansy tentatively reached out to touch his blonde—no, black—hair and cried, "What did you do to your hair?"
"Ask the bloody Mudblood, why don't you?"
And the wailing continued.
&&&&&&&&
"See, it's real easy—do it like this—"
"This is something girls do, Granger—do I look like a girl to you!"
"Now that I think about it, yes—yes, you do."
"Shut up—but if I were one, I'd definitely be hotter than you—"
"Stop being a prat, will you? And concentrate on your knitting!"
"Sssshhhh!"
Draco's cheeks fairly turned pink. If anyone saw him knitting stupid scarves and hats for the bloody house elves of the castle, he'd have to kill Hermione first and then curse himself with Avada Kedavra. Why, oh why did she have to drag him along outside to the castle grounds to do this with her! His reputation was tarnished as of today: he'd lost his trademark blonde hair (oh, how he missed his fair locks!), he had been ordered around by a lowly Mudblood all day – and it was beginning to feel like a long day – and now, he was knitting.
And great gods! He was getting much better at it as the hours passed. Up until now, he'd only made hats of a solid color – Hermione was beginning to teach him how to make patterns of diamonds and stripes, and despite the fact that he was beginning to get real skilled at it, he was not proud of his newly found talent.
They'd been sitting out by the lake since lunchtime, and they practically made enough scarves and hats to put up a store and sell them. Hermione grinned proudly at the stacks of miniature clothes they'd been making for the house elves, sighing as she took one and delicately fingered it. Turning towards her knitting partner who, at the moment, was putting the last touches to his first ever patterned scarf, she smiled and said, "Thanks, Malfoy."
Draco paused to look up at her. "For what?"
She blushed and nudged a finger towards the clothes. "For helping me out with this."
"Honestly, Granger, if it weren't for your ability to order me around today, I wouldn't be doing this out of the goodness of my heart." He grinned cheekily. "I'd rather be doing something more worthwhile."
"I know that!" she replied hotly. She sighed irritably. "But still—thank you."
Draco looked at her. She really was a strange girl. Jokingly, he said, "You should thank me; my creations turned out much better than yours, see?" He held up one finished hat and pulled it down just above her ears. Hermione winced good-naturedly and patted it. He somehow thought she looked… cute. Her unkempt curls were sticking out dramatically here and there, her cheeks were just the right kind of pink and she was grinning. And before he knew what he was saying, he blurted out, "You know, you look c—"
Good thing he had sense enough to snap his mouth shut before he could say she looked cute. Great Merlin, what would have happened if he did say that? He somehow realized that he was holding his breath for quite a time.
Hermione looked at him curiously. "I look… what?"
"Crazy." He decided to say. "You look crazy." Bloody hell, what was the matter with him?
Hermione scoffed, taking off the hat and throwing it mildly at him. "Well, that's because you made it, Malfoy," she snickered.
"For your information, mine are well done—"
And before long, they were bickering again until dinner.
&&&&&&&&
"Hermione!"
She looked around to see who called her name and to her pleasure, it was that one Hufflepuff she was quite smitten with. He caught up with her and Draco, who, Hermione failed to notice, was wearing a very much irritated scowl. Both of the Heads were traipsing up to the Heads' Quarters to keep away the knitting they've been doing all afternoon and in spite of the fact that Hermione did have quite a good time with Draco, it was still so much better to see Justin after a long day of work.
"Hello, Justin," she greeted enthusiastically, feeling so excited at the sight of him that the hats in her hands nearly fell to the floor.
He grinned good-naturedly at her and nodded indifferently at her companion, who, in turn, chose to ignore him and walk on. After all, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff did not deserve the attentions of Draco Malfoy—he already gave much of his attentions to his partner, a Muggleborn Gryffindor Know-It-All. Like right now—Draco was scowling pointedly at her, obviously disgusted by the fact that she was pouring all her affections to someone who readily did not deserve it.
"Where were you all day?" he asked curiously. "Oh, and let me help you with that—" He took the stack of hats into his own arms.
"If you're willing to carry all that, then I suppose you wouldn't mind taking these as well, would you, Finch-Fletchley?" Draco sneered right behind them.
Hermione wrinkled her nose disapprovingly and retorted, "Shut up, Malfoy." To Justin she said, "Don't mind him—he's just being a git as usual."
"I heard you turned his hair black," he commented, and taking a glance at the Head Boy, he laughed, "All of Hufflepuff commends you, Hermione, for a job well done."
Hermione blushed. Inwardly, Draco retched, feeling rather sickened that he had to see two Mudbloods flirting with each other!
"Oh, bloody hell, will you two move it!" And he shoved through them forcefully, pushing them apart. He rounded the corner and disappeared, leaving Hermione alone with Justin.
"What's with him?" Justin asked.
Hermione waved her hand nonchalantly and replied, "Oh, nothing—he's naturally just like that. I don't even notice it anymore."
"Right. Anyway, isn't there another Hogsmeade visit during the first weekend of November?"
She nodded.
"Want to come with me?" Justin's cheeks turned crimson, looking quite adorable when he blushed like that. Hermione's spirits practically soared that without another thought, she nodded.
"Great!" He beamed, flashing him a great smile that told her he was genuinely overjoyed that she agreed. "Well, then—" And he leaned in to give her a quick, soft peck on the cheek.
Hermione's legs turned to jelly right after that.
&&&&&&&&
Draco witnessed her come in through the Portrait Hole with an uncharacteristic goofy smile plastered on her face. She floated to the couch opposite him, dropped the hats she had in her hands and sighed dreamily.
He thought it was pathetically sickening.
And to think all this was caused by a pretty boy Hufflepuff!
"He asked you out on a date?" he asked nonchalantly, looking at his black hair with a small mirror in his hand. His wand was pointed at his hair, and every now and then, small white sparks shot out of it faintly as evidence that he was sort of trying to rid it of its blackness.
"Hmm?" she replied, apparently not listening.
"Brilliant, Granger," he retorted, "To think that our teachers think highly of you. All that it took for you to lose all intelligence is for you to fall flat on your face in love. Now will you please turn my hair back to its own color?"
Hermione shot out of her reverie and stared flatly at him. "It's only nine, Malfoy. I have three more hours to do whatever I want with you."
He grinned slyly, "Oooh, you're quite a vixen—what ever in the world would you want to do with me, Granger?"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.
"Alright then—get on with it. What do you want me to do now?"
"Cook me pasta."
"What?"
"Pasta. I'm craving for pasta. Cook me some."
"Are you turning me into a girl, Granger?"
"Cooking's not for girls only. My father cooks when my mother's out, you know."
"That's your father then."
"It's either you cook or I force you into pink dress robes, Malfoy."
Ten minutes later, Head Boy and Head Girl were down at the kitchens, with the Slytherin donned in a frilly pink apron, clashing quite nicely with his untidy black hair, and the Gryffindor seated by the table, her chin resting gently on the palm of her hand. She'd brought her muggle camera with her and every now and then, there'd be a bright flash of light in the room whenever Draco'd turn to look at her and glare.
"When it's my turn to give you consequences, Granger," Draco pronounced as he chopped some mushrooms and tomatoes, "I'll make sure you'll die of embarrassment."
Hermione laughed as she took yet another picture of him. "Come off it, Malfoy, what you've gone through today isn't so bad as you think—at least I didn't make you prance about school in that tutu I promised you."
"And I'm supposed to be thankful?"
"And look at the bright side! You learned a new skill!"
"I don't think knitting will come in handy when I conquer the world, Granger."
"You never know."
"You infuriate me, Granger."
"Glad to know."
Minutes later after more flashing lights and a bit of simmering pasta and cooking sauce, Draco took a wooden spoon, dipped it into the red sauce and placed it near Hermione's mouth. "Taste," he ordered and Hermione licked it slightly. She smacked her lips and looked at him.
"This is your first time cooking, Malfoy?"
"Yes."
"I see." She crossed her arms and called on one of the house elves before turning back to him. "No wonder it tastes so horrible."
"WHAT?"
"See for yourself. Flimsy!"
As a puny house elf ran eagerly towards the Head Girl, Draco tasted his concoction. He made a face right afterwards. It did taste horrible. Turning back to Hermione he growled, "Well, you'll still have to eat all this, Granger—you wanted pasta, you're going to get pasta."
Hermione stared at him… and then laughed. "How can you think you look intimidating when you're wearing that?" She turned back to Flimsy the house elf. "Would you mind making us spaghetti, Flimsy? Malfoy's failed to do so, that's why."
"You knew I don't know to cook—" he interjected, but Hermione threw a kitchen towel at him to shut up.
"Yes, ma'am! Right away!" And the house elf began to call on others to help her with the food while the two Heads sat back down across each other. Draco took off his apron, threw it angrily onto the wooden table and glowered at the girl in front of him who was busy taking more shots of everything else in the kitchens, including the house elves and him.
"Will you please put that stupid camera down? I'm this close to cursing it out of your hands, Granger."
The flashes of brilliant white light continued.
And before long, Draco reached across the table, wrenched the camera from Hermione's hands and took a picture of her, to which she angrily objected to. Lowering the camera before he took another picture, he said slyly, "I think it's just fair that we have pictures of you, don't you think?"
Soon enough, they'd finished the wizarding film just in time when Flimsy and her companions set the pasta right before them. Hermione kindly thanked them, grabbed her fork and began to take her share of the pasta. Draco took the rest and in silence they dug in the food with gusto. It was as if they hadn't eaten dinner just two hour ago.
Draco pointed this out, adding that Hermione was ballooning up right before his very eyes, which rightfully earned him a good smack on the head.
When they walked back up to the Common Room, Hermione told him that his consequences were done and he wouldn't have to do any more until his next blunder.
"I will not have any more blunders in the future, Granger," he said smugly, "I can assure you of that."
"We'll see, shall we?"
"And turn my hair back to blonde, will you?"
Hermione crossed her arms and scrutinized him. "I just don't see what you have against dark hair, Malfoy," she said thoughtfully, "It isn't that bad."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, Granger, it reminds me too much of Potty and –now that I think about it, it reminds me of that Finch-Fletchley! And besides, my original hair color suits me more, don't you think?"
A minute or so passed as Hermione continued to scrutinize him. They were standing idly outside a deserted corridor leading up to their quarters, with Hermione leaning her back against the wall with her arms crossed in observation, and Draco standing gracefully before her as if he was her subject. The flames from a nearby torch flickered as a cool breeze passed by them and for one second, the Head Girl looked ethereal. By the way the dark, yellow light seemed to bounce off her bushy curls, it made her look almost pretty. Of course, the moment was gone in an instant, and once more she was the Know-it-All he'd known since they were eleven.
He didn't know how long they were there in that corridor, but it seemed that time stood still… that is, until in some strange way, the next thing he knew was that Hermione was standing pretty close to him that once more he could smell the hint of strawberries from her and could see the flecks of gold dancing in her brown eyes because of the flickering light. Two fingers were threading through his black hair, and she smiled as she looked up at his dark tresses; for a moment, he couldn't breathe, and he didn't know what he could possibly do. What in the world was she getting at?
Then—
"I suppose you're right. It brings out the color of your eyes." She said softly, and Draco was this close to leaning in and at least doing something rather than standing still in an idiotic way; but before he could, she had already taken a step away from him and the next thing he knew, light, fair hair was falling right in front of his eyes and he took a look at his reflection in the window. Sure enough, his hair was the splendid gold it always was, and he sighed in relief, glad to have it back.
Hermione was grinning at him from behind and he took a glance of her. The flames were flickering once more when he did, and there stood that unrecognizable girl once more who looked almost beautiful with the light, honey brown curls and soft, gentle face. She pocketed her wand, pushed off against the wall and said, "Well, come on. Let's go back."
&&&&&&&&&
Author's Note: Hey there! Here's a chapter before school starts – I sure hope you enjoyed it, despite the fact that it lacks much humor and more fluff. Heh. Thanks to all those who took the time to review; I appreciate your comments very much!
