Draco Malfoy spent the night looking out the window. Oh, he didn't delude himself - the odds of seeing her were infintessimal. Him being able to do anything about it? even less. Yet he found himself looking down, watching these people - these Muggles. They didn't look so different, not really. Not from two stories up. Still the same daddy pulling his daughter down the street. Still the same two lovers smiling as they meet. Draco felt old, looking down - sort of distant, and cold at the same time.
Locking his door, he lay down and began to think about her, his mouth smiling as his hands tended to his interest. He rmemebered her shy smile, as she came up to his table... the way she tossed her hair... the way her breasts moved as they fitted together.
Ron and Harry were trying to get some sleep. Honest they were. Instead, they were listening to a bed very determinedly creaking. "Harry..." Ron pleaded, "Can't you-"
None too pleased to be awake himself, Harry glared at Ron, "No. Just. no. if she even had a thought that you had asked me that, it'd get worse."
Ron groaned in sympathetic understanding. He rolled onto his belly, looking over at Harry and asked, "Do you think she even knows we can hear?"
Harry responded, "If she doesn't, I'm not going to be the one to tell her." He could just picture her turning red, completely horrified at what she'd been subjecting them (well, him) to.
In Hermione's bed, she felt the electric tingle of a full body release, turning onto her belly and falling fast back to sleep.
"Finally," Harry said in a whisper.
"Tell me about it," Ron said, hoping that he didn't have to listen to this all summer. Bad enough, when she... But... this? Slow torture, man.
[a/n: If you don't at least have some sympathy for Ron, I'm doing this wrong. Leave a review!]