A/N: Yes, Justine, I know it's on the person's left forearm. But, as I said (or meant to), Hermione needs to have it somewhere different because if Harry and Ron suspected what she was up to, it would be too easy for them to just pull up her sleeve. So I had it put somewhere different on her. Sarklover826 I'll talk more about Ginny at the bottom again. Please read additional author's note at bottom.

This chapter was surprisingly easy to write. My main problem was just finding the time for it, as my mom is forcing me to clean my room. I've been cleaning all yesterday and today, and I'm still not done, I haven't even made it into my bathroom yet. I cleaned out my closet, my drawers, the top of my dresser, and organized my bookcases. Those all took the longest, as I always stuffed everything in there on my last room "cleanings". Not sure if I even dare to go under my bed, but I probably will...well, anyway, I managed to get away just long enough to finish off the last bit of this chapter and now I'm posting it. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 9: Detention With Draco

Draco slumped into detention looking furious. "You. I can't believe you. You are an unimaginable bitch, you know that?" Hermione looked up at him with her brown eyes and didn't move from where she hunched over the floor. They had been ordered to wash the floors of the Great Hall—no magic. Professor Wood would supervise them, as he was the only teacher available in the evenings this week. Hermione secretly wondered if he would rather be with Ginny every night than supervising them. She dipped her scrub brush in the soapy water and began to work on a portion of the floor.

Glaring tremendously, he snatched up his bucket and walked to the far corner of the hall to scrub there. Professor Wood opened his mouth to tell off Draco for his language, but Hermione shrugged and shook her head. Sighing, the teacher shut his mouth and went to sit down at a table and read.

Hermione and Draco scrubbed the floors silently for two hours. Draco was glad she did not try to talk to him. He knew she had gotten him into this, he just knew it. And she hadn't denied it either. Scrubbing even harder at the floor, he took out his seething anger at her on the cold stone. A whole week of detention, all because she'd pretended to be him and thrown some dungbombs down the stairs. A good idea, he reflected, but I don't understand how she managed to get me into trouble for it.

As he muttered angrily to himself, the young professor stood, and announced that the two of them could go. Draco got up and left as quickly as he could, leaving the other two behind as fast as he could. Unwilling to speak to Hermione, or even let her catch up to him, he sprinted down the hall to the kitchens and threw himself into an empty room, sealing himself in. He waited a whole half hour before he was sure he could leave without possibly bumping into her.

He need not have worried. Hermione was so glum she didn't even try to track him down.


Hermione could have sobbed the moment Draco stepped into the room. She wanted to throw herself at his feet and grovel for forgiveness. But as soon as she looked up at him, she was pinned to the spot. She deserved this, and she knew it. She deserved his anger. So she meekly backed down and didn't say anything to him at all the whole night. Now was not the time to try to reach him.

So she scrubbed the floors of the Hall without a word, and before long, Professor Wood told them they could go. Draco dashed out, and she felt a pang of guilt. She glanced up at the young professor, and then saw the hands on his watch. Eyes narrowed, she said, "you let us out a whole fifteen minutes early."

"I…er…have an appointment to be at in fifteen minutes, so I had to. It won't matter anyway," he said congenially. She looked at him hard, thinking of Ginny. "Well," he said, fairly trembling with suppressed guilt and a hidden secret, "I have to be off now. Have a nice night." He left far too quickly for comfort.

Alone, Hermione gathered up the buckets of soapy water and put them on top of one of the tables, not quite sure what to do with them. She was sure Filch or someone would take care of it. She slogged up the stairs miserably, knowing all the other students were in their common rooms by now. But then she saw a little black shadow, flitting from statue to statue.

Pretending to not have seen, Hermione walked on, but she knew who it was. She had seen that nervous darting before. Ginny. Gently peeking back in the hall she'd just left, she saw the small person go into an all-out dash for the end of the hall, knocking frantically at a door and peering around anxiously. The door opened, and she saw Professor Wood reach out, and drag the young girl into his room.

By now Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and she edged down the hall. So, she'd been right. His "appointment" was Ginny. She stopped and listened at the door. The young man was offering the redhead tea, but nothing else seemed to be going on. Slightly disappointed, she decided to just go to bed. It had been a trying day, as she had Ancient Runes on Mondays, and it had been a particularly difficult lesson.

Sighing, she fell into a dejected sleep.


OrlandoWood quickly pulled the young girl into his quarters, hoping no one had seen. She beamed up at him, and he frowned slightly as he offered her some tea. He'd grown to like her in their letters, maybe even as more than a friend. But more alarming than that fact was her age, and how she was exactly as he expected, and how he was beginning to like her even more now. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was in love with her, but that he cared for her more than he should, and certainly not in the way he should.

It was worse that she seemed to feel the same way. She made careful advances toward him, and he could see them, and he knew they shouldn't be doing this, but it was happening whether or not his mind agreed. So he responded to her advances as inconspicuously as he could. As he handed her the cup of tea, his hand folded around the mug, her hand would curl around it as well so that her fingers gently lay across his.

And instead of breaking off the small tender gesture, he would let it be, and they would both hold the cup for a time. But then he would cough and blush and turn away, and she would look at him sadly with big blue eyes that understood.

He poured his own cup of tea, sighing as he handed her the sugar jar. He knew she liked it with a lot of sugar. If they had just been student and professor, it would have been easy to avoid this trap, but they weren't. They were friends, and pen pals, and something even deeper than lust spiked through their relationship. He settled himself on a cushion across the table from her.

Shaking his head, he decided he had to break it off, and now before this went even farther. "Gin, I think…"

"Oh, Orlando," she said, her eyes already glittering with tears. "Please don't. Don't do this. Nothing has to happen!"

"It already has," he gently corrected her, and scalded his mouth and throat with a nervous gulp of tea. He swiftly put the mug down so he wouldn't do that again. She burst into tears. Not quite sure what to do, he scooted around the table to sit next to her, patting her back gently. She twisted into his touch, and before either of them knew what was happening, she was crying in his arms.

He was surprised at how right it felt for her to be there. Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around her small body and held her close to him. Truly, they had to stop this. He could get fired for having a romance with a student, and she was still a minor. In another year, when she was seventeen, it would be alright, but not while she was still sixteen, and especially not when she had only just turned sixteen. Her birthday had been just last Thursday, and they had celebrated with a small cake for the two of them on that night. But he could not ignore how much faster his heart beat at her nearness to him.

"Gin," he breathed into her hair, and she sobbed even harder. She looked up at him with her eyes huge and wide, and oh so delicately sad as tears coursed down her cheeks. No, sad doesn't do justice to it, he thought. Heartbroken does though. His own look softened, and he felt ready to cry too, but knew he wouldn't.

"We can't do this, Gin," he said. "We just—" but he was cut off as she kissed him firmly. There were a million things in that kiss, and he could see the possibility of love in it. It frightened him and comforted him all at once. But the kiss was pure, and felt like ecstasy, and before he knew it, he was kissing her back just as passionately. His arms around her held her tighter, and she squirmed, twisting her arms around his neck.

Suddenly aware of what they were doing, he pulled back. She leaned her forehead against his as they breathed heavily. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. He squeezed her tighter.

"We will have to wait," he told her, drawing back and eyeing her. "We're going to have to wait for you to become seventeen before anything else happens."

Ginny smiled, snuggling closer to him. "I can wait," she whispered contentedly. He didn't know how long they sat like that, with his arms wrapped around the girl in his lap and her head on his shoulder, his resting against her brilliant hair, and it must have been an hour or more, because at length she yawned, breaking up their careful and relaxed silence. He chuckled and pulled her to her feet.

"Bedtime for all youngsters," he told her. She pulled a face but didn't object as he pulled her into a hug. Kissing his cheek, Gin pulled on her cloak and left silently as a wraith.

Orlando slumped into his chair. What on earth had he just done? He couldn't be in a relationship with a sixteen-year-old. But…well, he would always give her the option to leave, and if—no, more like when—she left him, he would just be happy for her and let her go. Although, he knew from experience that it was never as simple as that, and it would hurt more than anyone could ever understand until they experienced it.

Sighing, he retired to his bed, still thinking of Ginny. This was a bad idea—a very bad idea. But…well, it was too late now to change it. Grinning contentedly to himself, he flipped off his light and fell into a pleased sleep.


Hermione woke the next morning to the very familiar feeling of misery. Sighing, she pulled on her clothing and headed down to the common room, where Ron greeted her with a kiss. She wasn't sure she could evade his persistent attempts to get her to go off with him so they could snog much longer.

He grasped her hand and pulled her gently down to the Great Hall, where he settled in and began to eat voraciously. She grimaced at how much food he was stuffing down his throat and ate only two pieces of toast herself. The owls all came swooping in, and one informed her that her second week of detention would be spent helping Professor McGonagall grade papers. She winced; her head of house probably wasn't too happy she'd landed herself three weeks of detention.

Hermione sighed and tucked the notice in her book bag and saw it was nearly time for History of Magic. She told Harry and Ron that they should leave, and the trio left together, the two boys talking happily about quidditch while Ron grasped her hand and she pulled him along.

Class was usual, with Harry and Ron not paying any attention, and Hermione fixated on their lesson, taking perfect notes that they would use later. She glowered to herself about how easy she was to freeload off of. All they had to do was tell her they would fail, and she would hand over her notes, with a lecture.

But then, she didn't want them to fail. In fact, she didn't even understand why they were still in History of Magic this year anyway. They could have quit, but they didn't. She shrugged off the thought and focused again on the ghost.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was fun again, as Professor Wood had a tame baby dragon brought in by Charlie. The dragon was a Common Welsh, and it was an adorable shade of green. The Oliver's brother beamed at the class's excitement over the dragon, and Charlie warned them all not to scare it as he brought it around for all of them to pet. The scales were smooth and cool under Hermione's fingers, and she grinned indulgently. Not many could boast having touched a dragon before.

Charlie sat on the edge of the young professor's desk and told the class about the laws and regulations of keeping a dragon. The person who had raised this one for the past six years was now serving twenty in Azkaban for illegal dragon ownership. They were working currently on teaching this one to fend for itself before setting it free back into the wild. But Charlie also told them about the magical properties of a dragon, and how to defeat it if you ever encountered one.

Class ended after many "oohs" and "ahs" and many "oh it's so cute!s". Hermione put on a disgusted face when Lavender and Parvati declared the last one, though secretly agreed.

"Good lesson, Charlie," the threesome congratulated him as the rest of the class filed out. "Thanks for having him come in," Ron told Professor Wood. Orlando smiled at them with satisfaction as they left, obviously pleased with himself.

Hermione heard him thanking Charlie as they went out and she grinned to herself. He really was a very nice person, and a great teacher.

Dinner was interesting. All the Gryffindor sixth years were still in awe of the dragon, and were telling all the younger students about it. The younger students looked on with a mixture of amazement and yearning.

Ron, clearly enjoying the attention, was now spinning a tale of how huge the dragon was, and how it had nearly burnt him with its enormous spout of fire, but he'd dodged it just in time. And then his brother would never have gotten it under control if Ron hadn't bravely jumped on its back and pinned it to the floor.

Of course, most of the sixth years just rolled their eyes at him and ignored it; however, the younger years were fascinated. They clung to each other during his tale of bravery. Hermione finally got fed up with it and shoved a cookie in his mouth when he opened it to add more to the tale. He coughed and spluttered, finally disengaging himself from the cookie, looking at her in disbelief.

"Oh, honestly," she said in annoyance, "quit talking about that. You'll just make your ego bigger than it already is." Ron blushed and picked at his food. She felt a little guilty for snapping at him, and even guiltier because she was grateful for the reprieve from his imagined tale.

Wanting some time alone, she excused herself to go to the library, where she tucked herself away with a book in a secluded corner. She sighed as it came time for her to go to spend her detention. She hadn't given any thought on how to convince Draco to listen to her yet. Resigning herself to another evening of uncomfortable silence, she put her book away and headed back to the Great Hall.

Ron was waiting for her outside the doors. "Hermione," he said fervently. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to annoy you! I've been looking for you everywhere to apologize, but I couldn't find you."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "I was in the library the whole time."

Ron looked confused, "But I checked in there. Madam Pince said she hadn't seen you all evening." Hermione just shrugged, and the redhead scooped her up in his arms, giving her a bone-crushing hug. Hardly able to breathe, she just sat through it. Before long, she was set down again, and he kissed her passionately.

She stood there and let him kiss her several more times before she pushed him off her, "I have a detention to serve," she reminded him. Blushing, he said goodbye and kissed her again.

"Oh, get a room," Draco growled as he stalked past them. Hermione wondered how much he had seen as she followed him into the Great Hall, waving goodbye to Ron.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between Draco and Hermione. She was sure even Professor Wood could feel the tension, as he fidgeted anxiously. After about forty-five minutes, the young man excused himself to go to the bathroom, or some other incoherently muttered reason, saying he'd be back in fifteen minutes.

The second he was gone, Draco dumped his brush into the bucket of soapy water and walked over to Hermione, standing over her as she continued to scrub the floor. "Well?" he snarled.

"Yes?" she looked up at him meekly, and met his eyes only to cast hers down in submission.

"Explain yourself before I beat the hell out of you," he growled. Hermione sighed and put her scrub brush aside, standing up. She was grateful for the wall at her back, it provided some sense of security from Draco's looming form.

Unexpectedly, she felt tears form in her eyes. Blinking them away, she stared at the floor as she stumbled over the words, "I—I wanted to talk to you, but—but you wouldn't listen to me," she wailed. "And then I couldn't explain anything to you and you were mad at me, and I don't even understand, though I hate myself too, and…." She stopped to blink away the tears that had returned.

"You don't understand why I hate you?" he asked her coldly. Hermione quailed at his tone, and wouldn't look up at him. He placed a finger under her chin and pulled her up head up to look at him. "I hate you," he pronounced every word so carefully that it was like he was cutting up her heart, but with the blade of his voice razor-sharp so that he merely shaved away the sides so that it was more painful than if he'd just ripped out her heart and stomped on it. "I hate you," he repeated in the same tone, and his eyes were icy, "because you are a filthy know-it-all Mudblood who thinks she knows everything when she doesn't. I hate you because you thought that I liked you even for a second. I hate you because you got me into a week's worth of detention I don't deserve. I hate you for being the Dark Lady. I hate you for being you, Hermione."

And if she had just been listening to him talk, she would have believed every single word he'd just said without a doubt. But he had made a mistake by making her look up at him, and she could see the emotions playing behind his eyes. And if she hadn't been looking up at him, she probably wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes lit up behind their frosty mask as he said her name, nor would she have noticed he even called her by her first name rather than her surname.

As Draco turned away, she impulsively said, "Wait." He stopped stock still, and she found she had nothing to say to him. The door opened just then, and Professor Wood walked in. She dropped to her knees in despair and began to continue washing the floors. She did not look up again, and lagged behind until she was sure Draco and Professor Wood had both left. Only then did she lean against the back of the door and let her anguish and desolation overcome her carefully set barriers, and Hermione sobbed until she had no more tears before going up to bed.


Draco didn't know what to do. He was going crazy seeing her with Weasley every second. And she looked happy enough. Hermione didn't need him, and she never had. He gnashed his teeth fiercely to himself as he walked into the common room. Catching sight of his mood, Pansy (who had waited up for him) bolted upright into a standing position, ready to run if he ordered her to. All the other students in the room ran for cover except for Blaise and two seventh years, who completely ignored anyone younger than they.

Needing some release, Draco marched up to Pansy and kissed her angrily. She was surprised, but let him take out his emotions on her lips and within her mouth. He stepped back and she looked up at him calmly. Suddenly furious, he drew back his hand and smacked her straight across the face. It left a big red mark, and she flinched away from him. "I hate you," he sneered at her. She looked up at him with tears of pain in her eyes and somehow managed to look dignified as she nodded at him acceptingly.

Suddenly angry because she didn't react, he made ready to slap her again. Blaise stepped in the way of his hand, taking a glancing blow at his chin. The boy didn't need to say anything, only raising his eyebrows at Draco. Snarling something inarticulate,the blondestalked off to his room, scowling, and tried to sleep.

But sleep would not come, and he lay awake thinking about Hermione. He had loved looking down into those brown eyes as he said every mean thing he'd been working up the courage to say. He'd loved seeing them fill with tears when she thought he hadn't been looking. He hated that he couldn't brush them away as was his impulse. He hated that he had hurt her. But now it was all over. They hated each other, and he was her servant, and that was the way it was meant to be.

Then why do I feel so empty inside? He wondered. His heart ached with pain, and he just felt…devoid of feelings except for the lonely ache in his chest. I'll kill Weasley if he doesn't comfort her. No, I'll kill him if he does. I don't want him touching her. Realizing how selfish and contradictory he was being, he stared sullenly at his dark curtains. But if she doesn't want me, then there's nothing I can do. Sighing, and suddenly hurting more than before, he closed his eyes and brutally forced himself into a nightmare-filled sleep.


Hermione felt empty the next day. She let herself sleep in until she had Arithmancy, skipping both breakfast and her free period in an effort to make herself feel better. It didn't work. Groaning as she dragged herself from bed, she dressed and brushed her teeth before going straight to Arithmancy.

Immersing herself in her studies was always easy for Hermione, and it was an easy release from the hell of the real world. She ate a large lunch, having skipped breakfast, and in Defense Against the Dark Arts afterwards paid extra-close attention to what Professor Wood was saying.

She ate dinner like a robot, and barely noticed when Ron pulled her aside after dinner, still thinking of assignments she could finish to take her mind off things. This happened to not be a good thing, because she ended up finding herself in a deserted classroom with Ron pushing himself upon her. Resigning herself to it, she allowed him, though let her mind wander from the slobbery affair to school assignments not due for weeks, tests that wouldn't happen for another month.

Finally Hermione managed to pull Ron off of her, declaring she would be late for detention. With a satisfied and loving expression on his face, he gave her a departing kiss and sent her on her way.

She felt on the verge of a mental break down, and when she got into the Great Hall, she put all her heart into scrubbing the stone floor, even though no one else was there yet. Professor Wood and Draco arrived not long after, and settled in, Draco at the far end, the young teacher stretched out on a table to read.

Hermione hardly noticed when she began to scrub her tears into the floor. Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder, and someone was asking if she was okay. "No," she grumbled, not looking up or even faltering in her scrubbing. Another three tears fell onto the stone, and she vehemently scrubbed them into it.

"Miss Granger," Professor Wood said quietly, pulling up on her shoulder.

"Go away," she growled, stopping her scrubbing to glare at him. He backed off a bit, unsure of what to do and looked over at Draco. Draco looked over at the two of them expressionlessly, and then saw a tear slide down her cheek. He sneered at her, and stood, walking over to where she knelt on the floor.

"All right, come on," he said, yanking on her arm. Though rough, his method was operational, as she jerked up onto her knees.

"Don't touch me, Malfoy, that's an order." Wood looked on in confusion.

"My liege," the boy bowed, "That is an order I will not grant." Before she could react, he had scooped her up in his arms. She twisted until he growled, "Okay, Hermione, I'll just drop you on the stones right here." Glowering at him, Hermione kicked her feet, declaring that she could walk.

Draco roughly grabbed her arm, looking over his shoulder to the bewildered professor. "This shouldn't take long, we'll be back in a bit."

Hermione was dragged into the dungeons and thrust into a small, empty and poorly lit prison cell. "What the hell are you on about?" Draco growled. "Sad because I hate you? Oh, that's so sweet," he mocked.

She looked at him helplessly, "Don't, please."

"Don't what?" he snapped. A malicious gleam entered his eyes and he opened his mouth to say more.

Hermione began a hideous keening as he continued to talk. She didn't want to hear it, couldn't bear to hear it, couldn't handle his hatered. She swiped the remains of tears from her eyes and slammed herself up against the wall, needing more support than her legs were currently giving her.

A sharp, brilliant pain splintered her focus on her wail. Blinking, she looked at Draco, who was poised to slap her again if she persisted. "Fine, you wanted me to listen, I'll listen. Just don't do—that—again. And don't cry," he added.

Hermione looked up into his eyes, those beautiful pale gray eyes, and saw something that tickled her curiosity. She stepped forward, wondering, anddidn't noticed how close Draco was to her. She cocked her head to one side, trying to figure it out…


Draco wondered if Hermione was crazy as a grin suddenly split her whole face, and she staggered back against the wall, giggling. Her fitful giggles shattered into laughter. "You were jealous of him," she told Draco. He stiffened, and his fingers curled into fists that she probably didn't see. "You thought I actually fancied Ron. Ginny blackmailed me into it. I can't believe you thought I fancied him." She paused, and he looked on in horror as she told him everything he hadn't wanted to hear and had been battling against in the past few days. Her voice took on quite a different tone now, a wondering one, as she said, "You're so silly," before launching herself off the wall at him. Draco was taken off guard, but didn't need much time to gather himself as she kissed him just as fiercely as he had kissed Parkinson the other night.

His back hit the wall as he kissed her back just as passionately, holding her so close it was almost as if he was trying to make them into one body. Her arms were around his neck, and when she pulled back, breathless, he squeezed her closer to him. He breathed in her hair, surprised that a kiss could be so passionate, and make someone feel as satisfied as he did now. He'd never felt like this after a kiss before. Draco hadn't been prepared for this to ever happen, much less tonight, right after he'd seen her go off to snog with Weasley.

"Weasley," he breathed. Hermione looked up sharply. "I mean, your boyfriend. What are you going to do about him?"

"Um…I can't really do anything," she told him in dismay. "I don't have any dirt on Ginny yet, but I've got a lead…she's blackmailing me with you. I mean, she's using you as blackmail for me," she rambled slightly.

"You mean…oh. Oh," he said as everything made sense. He hated himself for having been so stupid. "Um…we have detention," he said, not knowing what else to say. Hermione looked surprised and dismayed as she remembered. They disentangled themselves, and walked back into the Great Hall.

Needless to say, Professor Wood was thoroughly confounded, and looked outraged at the red hand mark across Hermione's face. But she turned and shrugged at him just as he opened his mouth to say something. He turned to Draco accusingly, and Draco hid his smirk, shrugging as well. Completely befuddled, Wood sat down on the table again and watched the two of them the rest of the night, though neither said anything about what had happened, and when he said they could go, each departed soundlessly and went their separate ways to their common rooms.


So say, what are you waiting for?
Kiss her, kiss her

—Fall Out Boy "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me""


Second author's note: Okay, rereading this chapter, I noticed that everyone is kissing everyone else "firmly" or "fiercely" or some other synonym of those words. This will not continue in the other chapters, and I didn't mean for it to happen in this one, but it...did... So, yeah, I'm sorry if that bothered you, and it won't continue! Thanks all for reading!

MysticalSpirits asked why Ginny's mind couldn't just be erased. I decided not to put even the idea of this in the story, because it wouldn't do anything. Ginny knew (or suspected) about Hermione/Draco doing things together long before she actually caught them at it (although they don't know that), so if her current memory was erased, she would still have her suspicions and still be able to catch them together some other time. So I decided to cut out even the thoughts of that altogether. Furthermore, if they used a really strong memory charm to erase her memory, since they don't know when she began to suspect, it would have to be really strong, and there would be the possibility of addling her brains forever (like Lockhart's).

Sarklover826, you asked what Ginny has against Hermione and if she hates her. Ginny doesn't have anything against Hermione, and she doesn't hate her (in my story at least) it's just that Hermione is the person her brother fancies at the moment, and Ginny wants him to be happy. It's just the luck of the draw that it's Hermione. If Ron had a long-time crush on anyone else, and Ginny had blackmail material against them, she would use it thusly, it just that Ron happens to have an unreturned fancy for Hermione (well, it's unreturned in my story).