Everything but the plot belongs to JK Rowling.

Chapter 10

Five stiff drinks ended up turning into, well, Draco wasn't sure how many. He didn't want to get drunk alone, so he convinced Granger to knock back a few with him. She wasn't very hard to convince. She was actually quite the drinker, something many people would be surprised to find out.

The pair ended up staying up late that night, playing muggle board games, and the last thing Draco remembered was falling asleep on the couch.

Hermione awoke Tuesday morning to find that she was not alone. There was a, not altogether unpleasant, warmth surrounding her in her bed. At first she was too groggy to really worry too much about it. She simply snuggled in and caught another few minutes of sleep.

She was was roused from her slumber by the hoarse voice (that she didn't find even the tiniest bit sexy, no sir) of the warm figure next to her "Great Salazar, Granger, please tell me you have hangover potions around here."

She opened her eyes to see that Draco's upper half was sprawled out awkwardly, while he lower half was spooning her. It seemed strange but she really couldn't complain. After all, he smelled strangely nice, even after a night of heavy drinking. She reached into her bedside drawer, pulled out a small vial, and handed it to him.

He downed the potion in one gulp, and they lay in silence for several minutes.

"How exactly did I get here anyway Granger, we didn't shag did we? Because if we did I would really like to remember it."

"We most definitely did not shag!" she reprimanded. "You must have come in here once I was asleep. You fell asleep on the couch and I went to my bed. I am guessing you came in here in the early hours of the morning and climbed in bed with me. After apparently putting on some of my pajamas," she giggled.

Draco looked down at himself. "Well at least I look good in short shorts, Granger. What kind of pajamas are these anyway? Maybe you are a tart," he teased.

"For your information, it gets very warm in here in the summer," she said flatly. "And don't blame me, you're the one who put them on."

"Sure, sure Granger," he said, pulling her into him. "I don't know about you, but I could use a little more rest this morning," he yawned and closed his eyes, snuggling into her.

She didn't respond, she just laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "This should feel weird, shouldn't it?" she thought to herself. But it didn't feel weird, in fact. It felt just right.

The week following their snuggle session was surprisingly free of awkwardness. In fact, in the past week, Draco had made a habit of falling asleep on Granger's couch and joining her in her cozy bed in the wee hours of the morning. He just couldn't help himself, she was just so cute and cuddly, especially in her pjs.

Besides some snuggling, nothing had happened between the pair, and Draco had decided not to worry or think on it. Well, to try at least. He was finding it increasingly difficult to go through any span of time without thinking about the brunette witch.

Who could blame him? He spent almost all his free time with the bloody bint, being annoyed by her. That would get to anybody. Anybody would have a hard time not thinking about a bird then, right? No, it was totally and completely normal and understandable that Draco would have a hard time keeping his mind of Hermione Granger. It didn't mean anything. Nope. Completely and totally normal. Totally platonic. "Friends," he thought. "I've never really had a friend that's a girl before, maybe that's why I feel like this?" he continued his inner conversation. "Yep, good job Draco you figured it out, friends. Totally and completely friends."

By the time the next Wednesday had rolled around, the wizarding world had completely forgotten what a "tart" Hermione Granger was. It seemeda s though they had finally moved on to bigger and better things.

Their next ad had run, penned by Hagrid, and there had been mostly positive feedback in response to the story of the half-giant.

Draco had done a great job of damage control following the damaging article, and things were looking good. Hermione couldn't be more pleased with how things were going. There were 10 weeks left to go until the election, and she felt things were really headed in the right direction.

The next big to do for the campaign was a debate between the candidates, scheduled two weeks from today. Hermione had a lot of preparation to do, especially since she didn't know what questions would be asked, but she was feeling optimistic.

Preparation for the big debate was more time and research intensive than either Draco or Hermione could have predicted. They were especially worried because the Wizengamot would be the ones asking the questions, and this particular gamot was notoriously conservative. They spent hours working on Hermione's arguments on a variety of issues, and even spent some time in the library at Malfoy Manor scanning old law wizarding law books for evidence to back up Hermione's positions.

The thought of going to the Manor had made Hermione apprehensive, but Draco assured her that the two years his father spent in Azkaban had changed his attitude about muggle-borns, and his mother had never truly had that strong of prejudices. Their visit was altogether quite pleasant, Lucius wasn't around and they ended up having a nice tea with Narcissa.

Spending practically every waking moment together was starting to have some side effects. The pair had learned each other's habits to the point that they were able to anticipate one another's' thoughts and needs. For example, based on what time they stopped working the night previously, Draco would be able to anticipate what time Hermione would wake up the next morning within 15 minutes, and would have flood to her flat and made a hot breakfast by the time she was awake. He really was a good campaign manager, and not altogether a bad house elf, Hermione mused.

When the day of the debate came, Hermione had worked herself into a tizzy of nerves. By 10 in the morning, Draco was so fed up of her reciting her notecards to herself like a crazy person, that he dosed her tea with a light sleeping potion. He hoped to knock her out for a good several hours so he could work in peace.

When Hermione woke on the couch several hours later, the small flat became a very unpleasant place for Draco.

"Draco Malfoy how dare you?!" she screamed. "You just cost me three hours of precious time in which I could have been preparing! Now I'll never be ready! Percy is going to stomp all over me all because you were annoyed by my mumbling. You call yourself a campaign manager?! If I lose this debate because of this, I will have your pretty blonde head delivered to me on a silver platter, you mark my words!"

Draco sat and listened to her tirade, mildly amused. He decided not to respond. He simply let her yell and attempted to turn his attention back to his work. He knew she was well prepared. All she was doing now was working herself up to the point that it could impact her performance. He didn't regret the sleeping potion one bit. It saved her three hours over overthinking and doubting herself.

When 5:00 rolled around, Draco had Hermione's outfit laying out on her bed. They had two hours until the debate started, and she was expected to be there early to make sure everything was in place.

She didn't ask him to pick out her outfit, but it was one less thing for her to fret over, and let's face it, he had much better fashion sense. The media, particularly witch weekly, were merciless when it came to that sort of thing. In fact, the only reports witch weekly had run about the election mostly centered around Hermione running about town in athletic wear. Thankfully Hermione didn't read the rag, or she would have had Rita Skeeter back in a jar.