She woke in her bed with a start, a whispered name escaping her lips, then forgotten before she even heard it. Her internal clock assured her that it was still quite early, and a sweep of the room confirmed that her dorm mates were still asleep. Her alarm clock showed the time to be 4:13, meaning that she would have the communal bathroom to herself for another two hours at least before the other girls woke up. She could indulge in a hot bath, then focus on getting ready for the trip to Hogsmeade with Ron.

Hermione was actually looking forward to the trip today, having a few items to purchase, potions ingredients, extra parchment, scrolls and some quills. She remembered that she couldn't talk about schoolwork, which meant classes were out also. Ron probably wouldn't be too keen on entering a bookshop, unless she consented to follow him into Dervish and Bangs. Not something she wanted to do, but if she made it into the bookstore first, she could buy a book to read while he drooled on the latest quidditch gear. She could also get some ideas of what to get her friend for Christmas.

She had decided to take a little more time with her appearance today, wanting to make a clear distinction between Hermione 'the swotty bookworm' and Hermione 'a girl attractive enough for guys to ask out'. The former was the friend of Harry Potter, the latter being the inner female that Lavender and Pavarti despaired ever seeing, but she did exist, and that was whom Ron was escorting to the Wizarding village… Provided that he kept his part of the bargain. If he didn't, she could always join Harry at the Three Broomsticks and visit with Remus.

"I know I'm not a raving beauty, but it's like people forget that I'm capable of being a decent looking witch," she complained when two more fourth years stared at her. It was a little gratifying, sure. Every young woman enjoyed having boys, and men for that matter, give an appreciative once over. This, however, was a bit ridiculous, it was like she had suddenly sprouted wings or something, when in reality she'd just twisted her wild mane back into a braid, applied a bit of gloss to her lips and added some mascara to accentuate her lashes. She'd left off her robes but kept the cloak and muffler, and while her jumper was slightly more fitted than usual, it wasn't indecent.

"Cut them some slack Herm, they're fourth years and didn't have the privilege of seeing you at the Yule Ball during the tournament," Ron pointed out with a cheeky grin.

She turned her attention to her friend in mock amazement. "Not only was that a sweet thing to say, but you actually made it sound smooth!"

"Thanks, I am the suave Weasley of the family after all." He puffed his chest in a Percy-esque pose, tossing his head as though he had Bill's long locks.

She barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, the banter was enjoyable and she wanted to see if she could fluster him, just to watch his face turn red. "Must have been your father's doing," she commented idly.

This gave him a bit of a pause. He turned his head from the jaunty angle to look down at his friend. "We were talking about me. What does my father have to do with anything?"

"You obviously inherited your silver tongue from your father. How else could he have talked your mum into having seven children?"

He stuck out his tongue trying to determine if the color had changed. She laughed, "Muggle expression, it means that you are a smooth talker."

"I'd like to think I'd developed the talent to chat a girl up on my own, Dad's too focused on muggle stuff to sit down and teach me anything useful like that," he remarked.

"But, that would imply that you've practiced, and I've never known you to practice for anything other than quidditch." A gleam of amusement danced in her eyes.

"I've chatted plenty of girls up!" In his usual Weasley way, he rose to the challenge, without quite thinking of the words spilling out of his mouth. "Hannah, Susan, Katie, Lavender, Padma…" He snapped his mouth shut, realizing that he was providing her with a laundry list of the girls he'd snogged. He narrowed his eyes at her, causing her to choke on her laugh. "That wasn't very nice 'Mione."

"No, I don't suppose it was. But it was funny," she replied with a grin. She slid closer to his lanky body, leaning in to give him a hug. "Don' be mad," she pulled back and hooked her arm through his. "Besides, you'd have to have done something suave to get Padma of all people to let you near her again after your behavior toward her at the Yule Ball."

"Actually, it was a bit more calculating than smooth talking. Fred sent me some titmouse toffees and I conveniently happened to be around when she ate one. I also happened to know the counter charm and she was so grateful that the whiskers were gone that she kissed me. I just figured that I'd go with it, and she didn't object… And 'Mione, don't you think it's a little odd that I'm talking with you about some other girl when I'm supposed to be trying to figure out the best way to get a snog session in with you?"

She made a non-committal noise, "I suppose I could take the initiative…Again." She continued in her overly logical tone, "I mean, everyone says chivalry is dead, and I am all for equal rights. I could chat you up a bit if you want. Ohhhh Ron, you're so big and fit…" She ran a hand up his arm as they walked down the street. "Or perhaps I should take a page out of your book, set up a prank and save you from one of your brother's creations. You'd kiss me out of gratitude wouldn't you?"

"Depends on the prank," he rejoined. "I'd probably be more willing if you saved me from a man-eating acromantula, probably go so far as to thank you with a nice shag despite what it would do to my reputation." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, even as the bridge of his nose started to turn pink.

This caused Hermione to break out laughing, then try to suppress her humor, resulting in a noise that resembled a 'snerk', before she gave up, nearly doubling over from her own thoughts.

"What's so funny?" he asked, trying to make sense of his friend's sudden mirth.

"I don't…don't think," here she gasped, "that you want to know."

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I do."

"It's just…" she giggled anew.

"Just what? Bloody hell 'Mione, spill it already!"

"Th-the image o-of you…Oh God! Did you proposition Harry in second year after he saved you f-from Aragog's spiderlings? You left that bit out when you told me the story…" She doubled over again, clutching at her stomach as a new though occurred to her. "A-and to think your mum believed that I was a scarlet woman when it was her son the whole time…"

She dared a glance at the red head, finding his face to be completely flushed and his mouth slack in disbelief. "H-how did you know?"

That shut the bushy haired teen up as she closed her mouth with an audible snap and her teeth clacked together with force. She took her turn to look a bit dazed by the notion before her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You almost had me, I'll give you that." She shook her head, "I've got this notion that if it were the truth, you'd both have told me before now. Not only that, but I'd think that you'd be able to discuss it without turning so red that I can't even see your freckles." Hermione smiled. "Pity though, it wouldn't be completely unreasonable if you were…" She trailed off in thought, barely realizing that they wandered beyond the shops and had turned off to head toward the Shrieking Shack.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron's face was a mix of confusion and injured pride from being insulted.

"Well, you do have all those brothers, it stands to reason that one of you won't be bringing a wife to the Burrow on the Holidays."

"Why would you think it was me?" confusion won out.

"You are the youngest son after all, and it would certainly make you stand out in your mother's eyes." Hermione dared an amused glance at the boy, her eyes dancing in amusement again.

"Really not the kind of attention that I want from mum… I can just hear her now…" He grimaced with the memory of his mom's voice going shrill.

"Think of how scandalized Percy would be," she pointed out.

"True, but still not enough incentive to be that way. The fact remains that I'm a little more fascinated by things that make girls look like girls."

"Only a little?" she asked with an arched brow, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

He tugged on one of her curls. "Herm…" Ron whinged slightly.

"Oh good Ron, that's a great way to convince me that you're all manly and stuff."

"Works for Malfoy doesn't it? 'Just wait till my father hears about this!'" he said in a fair approximation of the blonde's haughty tone.

"He's not my idea of masculinity," she scoffed, hoping that he wouldn't be able to tell that she was lying slightly. He was cute, in a pretty boy who wears eyeliner sort of way. "He's a bouncing ferret, not date material." Because nobody could compete with the git's ego, not to mention the likelihood that one would have to fight for use of hair care products.

"That's for sure." He managed to move from her side to face her. "I suppose I could prove to you how much I don't like blokes." He backed her up until she could feel her back brush up against the rough bark of a tree.

Hermione looked around, feeling a bit sheepish that she'd been oblivious to their surroundings, mere yards away from the fence around the shack. "I didn't really believe that you did," she murmured, waiting for the tingle of anticipation to hum through her body and center in her stomach. She knew what was going to happen what with Ron crowding her personal space.

"Still, I wouldn't want to leave you harboring any doubts…" He leaned in, his hands lifting to cup her face. He had to stoop, given that his friend was a good eight inches shorter than he was. Still, he took the time to look into the brown depths of her eyes before his lids closed and he pressed his lips to hers.

The tingle never came. Not even when she parted her lips slightly and dipped her tongue past his momentarily. They both pulled back, focusing on the dusting of snow rather than meeting each other's eyes.

"I…er…" Ron coughed, trying to figure out what to say. He knew his cheeks were red again, it was a Weasley curse, but he was pleased to note that hers were tinged pink also.

"I…" she too had troubles voicing her thoughts. She wanted to spare his feelings, he was her friend after all; she didn't want things to get all weird and awkward. The fact that he hadn't leaned in for a second kiss, or even reacted much to her own exploration lead her to believe that he wouldn't be crushed if that was the last time they ever locked lips. "I…that is, we…you didn't feel anything did you?" her tone came out sounding hopeful, she just hoped he interpreted it properly.

"I…No." he admitted, being truthful, but unsure as to whether it was the correct response or not.

"Merlin be praised," she sighed with relief.

"Hey!" indignation filled the word, he may not have been attracted to her like that, but she didn't have to be so happy about it.

"No, it's not like that, I just…" she trailed off. Her only basis for comparison had been Victor, and that wasn't a topic that inspired civil conversations with Ron.

"Feels a bit wrong? Like something's missing?" he offered.

"Yeah, there was no zing."

"Zing? Is that how women describe it?"

She blushed darker. "Not exactly," that was how she described it though. With Victor, there had been a lightheaded sensation coupled with warmth seeping through her body and centering in her navel, just like she'd gotten when she'd finished off a screwdriver at a dinner party a couple years ago.

She had innocently mistaken the harmless looking drink for her own glass of orange juice, gulping it down without a second thought. Apparently, vodka was a nearly flavorless alcohol when mixed in the proper proportions with fruit juice. When the guest in question went in search of his missing drink, she'd confessed to her mum what had happened. She had been feeling guilty and fearing the disapproval of her parent for her slight inebriation. To her surprise, her mum only laughed quietly, a testament to the fact she'd been tipping a bit too much wine herself. She remarked on the zing that hard alcohol could pack to one unaccustomed to it's effects, then advised her daughter to have some water and make sure she knew where the ladies room was just in case she was going to be sick as they had not eaten supper yet. Ever since her experience with Victor, she'd thought a kissing should involve some sort of 'zing'.

There was no 'zing' when she kissed Ron, no sudden spear of warmth, beyond the normal, everyday affection that she felt for her friend. She then realized that she'd been woolgathering, and Ron, for once in his life, was patiently waiting for elaboration on her answer. "Not exactly," she repeated herself, but continuing this time with, "muggles, at least in the books I've read…"

"I can't believe this, you've read books about it?" he interjected, sarcasm coloring his words.

Her face, which was recovering from her previous blush, turned pink again. "Can it Ronald, I borrowed one of mum's romance novels when we were in France for a dental conference."

"Why didn't you just bring Hogwarts, A History, or your Arithmancy book or something?"

She shot him a glare. "Yes, I can just imagine what would happen if room service were to happen upon a book with moving pictures, or one where equations rearrange themselves to demonstrate the proper way to balance each side. Give me some credit, would you? It was the only thing available, and I wouldn't have even had that if mum hadn't purchased them from the hotel's gift shop."

"Very well," he conceded with an ill-disguised grin. "What did these great tomes of knowledge impart?"

"Typically, the author describes 'it' as violins playing, or fireworks…or my personal favorite, magic in the air…" she giggled. "I admit, they are rather misleading and completely ludicrous, but I know there's more involved than simply pushing one's lips against someone else's."

"Done much snogging yourself there, Herms?" he teased, watching with satisfaction as the blush moved from her cheeks to her entire face. Then it occurred to him, "Just how many chaps have you kissed anyway?" His eyes narrowed, feeling a bit jealous at the prospect that maybe she didn't think he measured up.

"What's it to you?" she fired back, "I thought we'd established that we are not interested in each other like that."

"I still have an interest, as your friend and surrogate brother of sorts. Just answer the question."

She snorted. "So now you've appointed yourself a member of my family, as if you didn't have enough siblings to begin with! I've kissed less than Ginny, why don't you hover over her and give her your much needed protection."

"Don't change the subject, we are talking about you. She's got five other brothers to look after her, you don't, now talk!"

"Three! Are you happy now?" She broke eye contact under his constant regard. "Fine! Four if you count giving Harry harmless pecks on the cheek."

"Okay, Harry, and I know about Vicky."

"Victor, Ron, Victor."

"Who else?"

"God Ron, you want a name?"

"In the interest of fairness," he slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. "I mean you did wrangle a list of names out of me after all…"

"You volunteered those with very little effort on my part. Besides, it's embarrassing…"

"Hermione, I'm your friend, how could it possibly be that bad?"

"Because I'm 16 and I have less experience than your little sister!" she hissed, mindful of all the other people walking down the street. "Aside from you, there's only been Sigmund. If you were any kind of friend, you'd drop it, the whole thing was a ruddy embarrassing situation." She felt like her face was on fire.

"Wait a tic. Who the bloody hell is Sigmund?" Ron tightened his arm around her shoulder.

"A muggle boy. Subject closed!" Hermione tried to lengthen her strides.

He retaliated by angling his forearm under her chin, a sort of headlock without being obvious in order to save her some dignity. A persistent and stubborn witch Hermione may be, but she could not compete with the greater size and strength of Ron. "When did this happen?"

She sighed, truly tired of the conversation topic. She'd rather be listening to quidditch talk. "Honestly, does it really matter?"

"Yes, I rather think it does. You wouldn't hedge around it so much if it didn't."

"Maybe I'm hedging because it was an experience that I'd rather leave in the past and forget."

"Too late, Weasley curiosity you know, it demands satisfaction. You could tell me now, or I could owl my brothers for some of their honesty horehounds. They haven't perfected the flavor yet, a bit on the bitter side instead of minty, but the candy still causes the truth to come spilling out."

"You're bluffing. That's too close to veritaserum, and the ministry controls that stringently. There's no way your brothers could market them."

Ron's grin became quite toothy at this point. "I told you already, it's not perfected. No matter what you think of them, they do take their business seriously enough that they wouldn't sell sub-standard products. They may not have taken NEWTs, but they aren't idiots either."

"Right, the twins, serious. Second sign of the Apocalypse right there." She lifted her hand to make a checkmark on her invisible list.

"What's the first sign?" he asked, loosening his hold a bit in his distraction.

"You outscoring me on NEWTs next year of course! If that happens, I know the world is ending, and I'll Avada myself to avoid witnessing it first-hand."

"Small chance of that happening…" he pointed out good-naturedly.

"You know, if you just studied more, there's no limit to what you could do. It's simply a matter of applying…" she slipped back into her lecture mode, starting to walk to the Three Broomsticks.

"Hermione, you are violating the terms of this date. No nagging remember?" They rounded the corner, and he held the door as she crossed into the crowded building.

Her eyes scanned the room, focusing on the quieter corners where Harry would be most comfortable and out of the general public's eyes. "Well there's Harry, we'll consider the 'date' over and you can talk all the quidditch you want."

"Deal, but don't think that I've forgotten that there's some mysterious guy in your past that you haven't told me about…"

"Shut up you prat!" she said, taking a swipe at his arm before moving to join her other friend.

The young man watched the mudblood and the Weasley prat make their way down the street. He turned from the window to face the liaison. The Weasleys were considered blood traitors, and this was yet another example of that fact. "She's not on the list to stay. She's going home for the holidays, and Potter and the Weasel whelps are staying at school. She'll be alone."

A robed figure stood in the shadows, mask in place and the hood pulled up. "I'll tell our Lord. He will be pleased by this news. Is there any other pertinent information?" The voice was muffled, yet cultured despite the attempt to disguise her identity.

"The Gryffindors are remarkably closed mouthed lately, but rumor around school has it that the mudblood and Potter are involved, intimately involved." A leering smile curled on the boys face. He wondered if she would scream if he cornered her one night on rounds, people of her ilk were only fit to be used, then discarded. Or maybe she'd roll over and spread her thighs begging for him to take her…

"Really?" the woman chuckled, "That is indeed useful information. I will be sure that our Lord knows, and likely you will be rewarded when you are permitted to join our ranks. It's time for you to leave now, join the rest of your peers so that none of them suspect. You will be contacted again when you are needed." She watched the eager boy sweep out of the room.

They were getting younger and younger as the years went by, and with youth, the less guile and cunning was exhibited. The boy was transparent, lusting after the body of a mudblood. Hopefully he would restrain himself and leave the Granger girl untouched until the Dark Lord made his wishes known. This could be an opportune chance to harm The-Boy-Who-Lived…

She took the time to strip off her robe and mask, shrinking and stowing them in her handbag before apparating back to the office. She'd have to wait before paying a visit to Lucius and her Lord. Five more hours of taking that imbecile Fudge's dictations before she could pass on her information, Merlin how she hated her job!

Draco stopped by the owl post in Hogsmeade. It wasn't easy shaking off Crabbe and Goyle, and lucky for him, Blaise had a make-up potion to brew with Snape, so he was finally alone. The missive he received when he gave his name at the counter was light, one page on expensive stationary. The handwriting was all too familiar despite lacking the family crest. He didn't need a name at the bottom to identify who the writer had been.

Draco-

The time has come for you to assume the responsibilities that come with being the Malfoy heir. There will be a celebration held in your honor over the winter holidays. You will be demonstrating your skill at rune work for someone who is most eager to witness your finesse and dedication. You are being accorded an opportunity to prove that the Malfoy name is still superior in deed as well as bloodline. I am certain that I need not remind you what the price of a less than flawless showing would be. Do not disappoint me with your efforts.

AN: Yes, I'm terrible, it's been months and I feel awful, particularly since I've had this written for ages and just needed to proof read it before posting. All I can say is that it may take time, but I have every intention of continuing the prequel, and Brenna has encouraged me in this. It goes without saying that obviously the whole story is AU, particularly in light of HBP. And as always, thank you to BrennaM who is my wickedly evil muse, as well as those who leave reviews. I'll do something a little more personalized next time I post, but I'm running late for work even as I post. And yes, I do have the next chapter written, so you shan't wait too terribly long for it to be posted.