Harry reflected that it was strange that the more upset Ron got, the calmer Harry himself felt. Well, honestly, it wasn't all that weird. Harry was the type to do something stupid in anger (He had learned this about himself, over years of painstaking observation, and a whole lot of "why the heck did I do that!?" in response to the bruises he'd received at his cousin's fists). So, Harry was hopeful, in fact, that Hermione wasn't in terribly much trouble. Worried? Yes, but mostly that Hermione Granger would run into something that she couldn't handle. And since, after some undignified pleading, Snape had consented to look for Death Eaters, Harry Potter thought Hermione would have to run into a deep spot of bad luck to not be able to get out of a sticky situation...

Hermione Granger woke early, as she often did. This time, however, she woke to a distinct smell, and looked around at the room where she was in. Rather belatedly, she realized that there was an hand resting between her breasts, and that she was feeling a tad sore down there. Within moments, the events of last night came rushing back. Oh shit! Hermione Granger thought, her thoughts as usual quite uncensored within the privacy of her own skull. Harry's going to be worried sick! Shaken out of her relaxed, nearly content lassitude by the thought of her distressed friend, she dressed hurriedly. She took one last glance backward, her hand on the door, when she saw the young man she had talked to last night. Slept with, she corrected herself. She pressed a hand on his exposed shoulder, and then tucked him up under the blanket. And without another noise, she opened the door, and traipsed hurriedly down the stairs - as she walked down the stairs, she felt a squish from the direction of between her legs, and she hoped it wouldn't run down her leg.

Ron Weasley was pacing, his anxiety driving him towards... - knowing he couldn't leave, couldn't search for Hermione. Really, he wanted to run out and start shouting her name, running through the streets until she said something (He realized if he tried it that Gred and Forge would sit on him until he stopped). Ron knew she had gotten upset (why, he didn't know, but he felt sure she'd explain, if he could only get her to come back).

Draco Malfoy woke sleepily, wondering why he was waking at all, his body feeling like rubber. Belatedly, he realized that he was in bed alone. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be surprised or not - maybe this was how Muggles did it? Still, he sat halfway up, resting his head on his hand, bracing his body with his elbow on the bed, he couldn't help but feel wistful. It was morning, and he'd sleepily wanted another go... With a sigh, he lay back down, smelling her citrus scent mingling with his own.

As the door opened, Harry looked up from where he had been sitting, aimlessly pondering his black shoes (this was better than staring at Ron, who's pacing had been making him dizzy). Admit one Severus Snape, stalking in his usual fashion, and glaring at Harry to boot. "Any news?" Harry asked (a dash quieter than he normally would, as the door wasn't closed completely.

Harry was disappointed that the outside world did not disgorge Hermione's bushy haired form, as Severus Snape deliberately shut the door firmly, before answering. "Nothing from my contacts."

Ron Weasley made a great clumping noise as he raced down the stairs, yelling, "Did you find her?" with a remarkable degree of "I don't care that It's snape I"m talking to." due mostly to his worry, and only secondarily to his guilt.

"No, I'm relatively certain that Miss Granger has simply gone home to her parents, to have a good cry." Severus Snape looked down on the two Gryffindors, aimlessly noting their relatively lack of cohesiveness, which was a relative oddity. Were they having a bit of a spat too? He thought with a mild sneer that he didn't allow to show.

The door opened quietly behind Severus Snape, and Harry leaped to his feet at the sight of Hermione, safe and sound. "Ahh... Miss Granger, back from your parents so soon? Did your mother hold you while you had a good cry?" Snape's voice purred with derision, as he mentally thought, Take the hint, you blasted twit. Snape's nose caught the unmistakeable odour of fornication wafting off the silly bint. Shite was his only thought, as he wanted to bury his head in his hands. Neither of you used protection... Draco wouldn't even know he was supposed to use protection. **

Alas, it was not to be. Hermione Granger had no sooner opened her mouth than Ron Weasley dodged around Severus Snape's lanky form, "You - you slag! You went and slept with someone else!"

Severus Snape was inwardly quite displeased. He normally hated stopping arguments, and all the worse when it was an unruly gang of Gryffindors. However, the Wizarding World's Saviour would be unlikely to actually reach the age of majority (let alone actually kill the Dark Lord), without some assistance from his friends. And thus, Severus Snape, spy and blackguard, was forced to intervene in an adolescent quarrel. "Miss Granger, did you perhaps sleep with a childhood friend? Someone to hug and comfort you when your so-called friends refused to do what any friend justly ought?" Take the hint, you bloody Gryffindor. It's a blasted white lie, for god's sake.

"No, sir." Hermione Granger said, meeting his gaze levelly. "I did have intercourse with someone." Looking at Weasley, she said sternly, "You're not my boyfriend, you don't deserve an apology."

"You, you whore!" Ron Weasley said, as his hands balled into fists. Hermione Granger's hair had started to flicker with little zaps of electricity, her glare a much more fierce and dangerous thing than Ron's.

"Weasley, leave now." Severus Snape said in a soft tone, almost conversationally. The purposeful venom, however, had Weasley up the stairs within a moment - and Potter, shooting Snape an almost absentminded glare, close behind.

Hermione Granger let out a shaky sigh, saying softly, "That could have gone better."

To which Snape dearly wanted to respond, yes, if you learned to lie, even just a bit to unbend that stick up your arse. Instead, he responded, just as softly, "Indeed, Miss Granger, indeed." Snape strode quickly off towards the library, meaning to see just how quickly everyone would forget about him so that he could get the hell out of there.

**um. rubbers. Draco Malfoy has been schooled as to the proper magical way to have proper intercourse, but being without a wand...

[a/n: Fallout. Not just a video game anymore. Draco's still sleeping soundly...

Leave a review.]