Author's Note: Huzzah!!! Chapter 18! We are almost there! I really enjoyed this chapter.

Also, in passing, Ron and Hermione will mention what takes place in my story "Faerie Tale." If you haven't already read that, you may want to take a look so that things make more sense. It isn't necessary, but the short allows me to go a bit deeper.

Once again, I must give mad props to Fool4Sasuke33, who is the most awesome-est beta EVER!!!!

Enjoy!

"Very good, Miss Granger, you're getting better," McGonagal praised as she watched Hermione wearily try to stand. Feeling chivalrous, Draco walked over. Offering her a hand, he hauled her up from her previous ass-flat-on-the-floor position.

"This doesn't feel like it's getting any easier," he muttered conspiratorially to Hermione. She grimaced in agreement and rubbed her hind-end with her free hand.

"I think I broke my coccyx," she whined. They moved once again into position on the other side of the empty classroom.

McGonagal hadn't forgotten her promise of additional classes, first mentioned to them during their meeting in the summer. What Draco and Hermione didn't know was that those lessons included additional defense techniques as well as transformation into an animal. McGonagal was turning them into animagi.

The theory was that the two of them would be able to better "keep an eye" on things in another form. Whether this specifically meant spying on students or employing a different method of surveillance on the grounds neither teen could quite decide.

In any case, now, at the beginning of November, both had gotten transforming down. Oddly enough, both of their alternate forms were birds. Hermione became a falcon and Draco, an eagle. The hard part was mastering the animals' talents, especially flight.

McGonagal had them in her transfiguration classroom this Thursday evening on the pretense of having a meeting. The new headmistress had become quite paranoid in her three months in the position. She saw spies and traitors everywhere, and forced Draco and Hermione to keep their extra-curricular lessons a secret.

The desks had been cleared away and the big, empty room left plenty of space to fly around. At least, in theory.

"Professor, I don't think this is going to work," Hermione began hesitantly, knowing the thin ice she had wandered out onto, "don't falcons glide on air currents instead of fly?"

"Hmm…," McGonagal mused, "is that what your instincts are telling you?"

"Er, I guess," replied Hermione. Normally, Hermione was very excited at the prospect of new and difficult spells. This situation had not started out any differently. She wasn't afraid of the work and she didn't mind the extra hours, but she was starting to feel frustrated at her lack of improvement. Plus, she was sore in muscles she didn't know she had AND was pretty sure she would be sporting some lovely bruises tomorrow. How she would excuse those away, she had no idea.

McGonagal sighed angrily. "Miss Granger, when you transform, you become a falcon. That animal has certain instincts. It will want to behave in a certain way, it will want to do certain things. At this stage, it is important for you to allow this to happen. Otherwise, you will never be able to truly act as a falcon. Eventually, the instinct will start to overtake you, and you will forget to turn back into a human, but that is a lesson for another day. For now, what we must concentrate on is becoming your animal."

The thought of forgetting or not wanting to turn back into a human completely terrified Hermione. She wasn't sure if her mind would relinquish that much control. Her brief glance at Draco told her that he felt the exact same way.

McGonagal turned from them to retrieve her wand. "This time, you will transform and begin to fly. I will conjure the necessary wind currents."

Hermione and Draco stood side by side across the room from her. They took a deep breath and began to change.

She felt the strange pull in her stomach, felt her body become smaller. The temperature began to feel different, she no longer saw colors in the same way. Suddenly, she had an incredible desire to be in the air, high above everything else. She wanted something, to hunt something, but she didn't exactly know what she was looking for. Things look stupid from down on the ground. She needed to be up. She reached her arms out to climb but they were not arms any more. They were wings. Oh, well, that makes sense, she thought as she stretched them, that will allow me to get much higher than frail, little arms. She turned her head to the side and saw a giant eagle standing next to her. She narrowed her eyes. Whatever I want, he's going to get if I don't get a move on. She screeched at him and began flapping her wings. Movements in the air carried her up, and up, and up. Now all she had to do was find one that fit and float on it, looking for whatever it was that she wanted on the ground below. She screeched again when she realized that the eagle was following her.

Get your own damn hunting ground!

She left her wings out and felt the rush of wind through her feathers as she circled the floor below. There was a woman there, but she was entirely too big. She wanted something else, something smaller. And furry, and difficult to catch. She wanted the rush of the hunt. She would have it. She just needed to be patient.

Suddenly, something grabbed her attention out of the corner of her eye. A mouse! She dove, and as the ground headed toward her at a sickening speed, Hermione had the disturbing thought, this is probably going to hurt if I don't slow down. She began arguing with herself. She really wanted that mouse, but she had to move fast to get it. But if she moved fast and lost control, she would crash, and that would be very painful, perhaps even fatal.

Stop, stop, STOP! She lost her concentration and forced herself back into her human form. Unfortunately, she was still about seven feet off the floor. She screamed during freefall and hit the ground with a resounding thud.

McGonagal rushed over. Draco landed rather gracelessly and walked dizzily over toward his classmate.

"Hermione?" he shoved at her shoulder. McGonagal was already conjuring a liter to take her to the hospital wing. Hermione was unconscious.

Ron stood in the Head suite common room and looked around. How could they both still be at a meeting? What the hell was McGonagal going on about? The sound of frantic footsteps up the stairs caused him to turn.

Draco burst through the door and stopped short at the sight of him.

"There you are!" he cried, "Do you know how long I've been looking for you?" he grabbed Ron's forearm and tried to physically drag him away. Ron, however, would not be moved.

"Wait, wait, hold on, what are you babbling about?"

"It's Hermione," Draco panted, "she's in the hospital wing. I'm supposed to find you and bring you there."

"Wait, what happened?"

"I don't have time to give you the details, dammit," Draco groused, "let's just go!"

The hospital wing was peculiarly empty. Hermione was the only patient. She reclined on one of the beds, propped up by pillows. An ice pack was on her head. She turned to see who entered at the sound of the door. That was a mistake, as it sent the really muscular clogging team and bell ringers in her head to start up their routine again.

"Ugh," she moaned.

"Bloody hell, honey, what happened to you?" Ron rushed over. She smiled drunkenly at him.

"I should injure myself more often, you look so cute when you're concerned," she mumbled, patting his cheek in a rhythmless way. Ron turned to Draco.

"What happened to her?"

"Er, she fell," he gulped nervously, "she's pretty drugged up right now, so that would explain the bizarre behavior." Hermione was currently trying to trace a line that didn't exist in the pattern on the sheets. It turned out to be a strand of her hair. Ron put her hands back in her lap and she grinned stupidly at him.

"What the hell kind of meeting were you having that caused her to fall so hard she needs drugs?" Ron turned wide eyes on Draco. Now the blond looked even more terrified than before.

"You have to ask McGonagal," he squeaked. Luckily, the headmistress was currently entering the ward with Madame Pomfrey.

"She'll be fine," said the nurse, "but she has a concussion, so you have to keep her awake for 24 hours."

"What happened?" repeated Ron, keeping his voice as congenial as possible, despite his annoyance. These were professors, after all.

"Well, what did Mr. Malfoy tell you?" asked McGonagal.

Why that cagey old bat!

"He said she fell," answered Ron tiredly, "where did she fall so hard that she got a concussion?"

McGonagal pursed her lips. "From what I would guess, it was about 2 meters," when Ron just gaped at her, she sighed, "Very well, Mr. Malfoy, you can tell Mr. Weasley exactly what you were doing in my classroom. But Mr. Weasley, I do NOT expect that information to leave your immediate circle of friends." She turned cold eyes on him.

The headmistress was known for being a hard ass, but there were a handful of students who seemed to get away with very nearly murder. Ron knew that he and his sister, his girlfriend, and his best friend made up that group. Whether it was because of their knowledge of the Order, or her bias towards Gryffindor, he couldn't quite tell.

Maybe she has faith in us.

No, that couldn't possibly be it.

McGonagal rightly assumed that Harry and Ginny would be told soon, if not immediately, what antics Hermione and Draco were up to during the meetings with the headmistress. How Draco Malfoy suddenly got into the inner circle, he wasn't too clear on and didn't particularly like. But he was Head Boy, and so far, had been keeping his nose clean, so Ron couldn't complain too loudly.

"So she has to stay in the infirmary for 24 hours?" Ron asked.

"Well, no, you can take her to her room," replied Madame Pomfrey, "but someone has to keep her awake."

"I would prefer a female student," continued McGonagal, looking hard at Ron.

"Well, Ginny could…" suggested Draco.

"Oh, no! The only way Ginny is spending the night in the head suite is if I sleep in your doorway," Ron accentuated his point by stabbing Draco in the chest with his finger.

"Yay! We're having a slumber party!" Hermione cried giddily from the bed.

"Very well, I will send a message to Miss Weasley that she will be spending the night in the Head Suite. I assume that means that the invitation will also be extended to Mr. Potter, since he will more than likely break any rules necessary to be part of the fun. However, all five of you are required to attend class tomorrow. Obviously Miss Granger will not need to do any work, but it will allow the rest of you to keep an eye on her without neglecting your own studies."

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said.

"Yeah, thanks," added Ron. Ron reached down to scoop Hermione up and carry her back to her room.

"I love you," she said to him, placing a hand on his chest and meeting his eyes with her own dizzy ones.

"I know, sweetheart, I love you too," Ron sighed, walking toward the door.

Draco made a face and followed them. Thank God there would be two other people there tonight, he thought. If I have to listen to these two for a full 24 hours, I am liable to vomit all over my rooms.

It was very weird dating him. Ginny honestly never thought it would ever happen in a million years. But then again, she also thought that Dumbledore was pretty much immortal and that Harry would have killed Voldemort by now.

Such is life…things never turn out like you plan.

It's not that he was a terrible boyfriend. He was awfully nice to look at, that was for sure. It was especially noticeable now that he stopped sneering so often. Who knew that Draco Malfoy had a nice smile? Or that the person that would make him laugh out loud would be her own brother? Not that she would ever say anything about it. He would deny it with every breath in his body.

He was courteous when he wanted to be. She would usually find him waiting outside her classrooms, ready to walk her to her next class. He had a wicked sense of humor, and he did make her laugh.

He genuinely did care about people, although they were few and far between. In addition to Pansy and a handful of other Slytherin girls, he seemed especially protective over Hermione for some bizarre reason. It was as though he was just waiting for Ron to screw something up and that he would be the only one there to clean up the fallout.

Hermione indulged Draco in this, telling Ginny that it was good for him to feel important and needed by someone else. Ginny could only look on in wonder at how her friend was single-handedly grooming the two most eligible (basically) and most difficult boys in all of Hogwarts.

But Ginny liked to feel as though she was doing her part, at least where Draco was concerned. She found herself repeating that mantra to herself often whenever he got to be a pain in the ass. Which did happen from time to time.

Draco had been spoiled since the minute he was born; everyone knew this. In many ways, he was still just a large child. One given to temper tantrums at the drop of a hat. During such situations, Ginny would talk to him like a child.

"Well, Draco, if you are going to pitch a fit, break things, and make a mess, then you will have to clean it up."

"I most certainly will not talk to the house elves for you and ask them to starch that shirt. It's your own fault they don't like you, you deal with it!"

"I know you didn't just ask me to get you something to eat. I AM NOT your servant!"

But still there was something missing. It went beyond the fact that they were in rival houses. It went beyond the fact that he was a Deatheater, or had almost been, and she was from a family of blood traitors. No, it was something else. Some spark that was missing.

She gathered her books after Potions and headed for the door. Sure enough, there was the flash of white-blond hair, waiting for her.

"Hey," she smiled in greeting, ignoring the looks and hushed whispers of her classmates. That had taken some time, but she was getting better at not paying the gossipmongers any attention.

"Hey," he returned, turning to fall into step beside her, "so, Muggle Studies next, yeah?"

"You remembered," she smiled. They walked along, side by side, silently. Had he been Harry, she would have embraced and probably kissed him. Had he been Dean, she would be holding his hand right now. But she never touched Draco, and he never touched her. It was as if they were scared to. Draco had a very clear and reasonable reason to avoid any sort of physical relationship with Ginny. Ron would kill him. As in murder-death, broken-body-at-the-foot-of-Gryffindor-Tower, no-longer-breathing, -KILL him. And it wouldn't be quick either; Ron would be sure to make Draco suffer. Draco knew Deatheaters that were more merciful.

Plus, he told himself, he was just doing a job. She wanted revenge, he LOVED revenge. She set the rules and he followed them in this situation. Granted, it wasn't what he would do, but she was still learning, so he cut her some slack. She had never once touched him after their little "agreement" had been solidified. And in a way, he was glad.

There was a part of him that felt as though touching Ginny, or anything else normal dating couples did would just be too weird. He supposed if she jumped him, there would really be nothing for it but to reciprocate, but he would probably have to have his mind on something else to get the job done. Thankfully, it hadn't gotten that far.

"Hey, what do you say we skiv off classes and just go hangout outside by the pitch? It's still relatively nice out," she suggested.

"Sure."

"You won't miss anything important?"

"No, I've DADA now," he shrugged and turned towards the doors, "not like I'd actually be learning anything in that class. Besides, Granger will let me copy her notes later on."

"So you've got her wrapped around your finger too, eh?" He chuckled.

"Oh, hell, no. I'll just beg until she relents. I don't usually ask, so she might be feeling more agreeable to it."

They walked out into the bright day. It was just a little chilly, but thankfully full robes kept out most of the bite from the wind. They climbed the bleachers and sat, very democratically choosing the professors' stands as a kind of neutral territory.

"So, why are you blowing off Muggle Studies?"

"Luna's in that class," she wouldn't look at him.

"Well, if Potty's going to collect her afterwards, that's where we should be, hamming it up."

"That would be true, if there were a point." Ginny wrapped her arms around herself. "This isn't working."

"It's not?"

"No," she turned to face him, "he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice. It's like I'm eleven years old all over again." Draco chewed on this for a while.

"What do you want to do?"

"Well, I feel guilty…"

"Oh, Christ!" he exclaimed, throwing a pebble down to the field below.

"Wait, let me finish. I feel guilty to you. You could actually be with somebody you liked instead of concocting pointless machinations with me."

"Pointless machinations?" he smiled at her.

"Well, that's what they are. We aren't a real couple. And to be honest, for me I think you make better 'friend' material than you do 'boyfriend' material."

"Why do you say that?" he actually looked insulted by the statement.

"There's the fact that you won't touch me."

"Oh," he quickly looked away.

"Don't worry, Draco. No one will think any less of you. There are plenty of wildly successful gay people out there. No one will hold anything against you if you don't like girls…" he sputtered and turned furious eyes on her, only to see her smiling that teasing smile.

"That's not funny!"

"You make it too easy."

"You're lucky I don't chuck you off these bleachers," but he was smiling, "besides, I never see you trying to touch me either."

"No, I don't," she quietly admitted, "I'm much too scared of you to do that."

"Scared?"

"Yeah, I guess. I can't really explain it. Suffice it to say, I think maybe it would be best if we called off this whole fake-dating-revenge scheme and just spent the rest of the year as friends."

"You know what?" he leaned back on the bleachers behind him, but turned his head to look at her, "I think that's probably a pretty good idea."

"That doesn't mean, however," she leaned in close to him, "that you can't help me think up ingenious ways to torture Harry in the meantime."

A slow half-smile crept onto his face.

"Oh, I think I could help you with that."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Hermione said breathlessly as Ron tugged harder on her hand, "this is completely ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous," replied Ron, "it's tradition."

The brightly lit windows of Madame Puddifoot's came into view. The first Hogsmeade weekend was colder than the Hogwarts community had expected, especially with the recent warm weather. Apparently, winter really was coming, and was starting to make its presence known. There were even flurries occasionally falling from the sky. They melted immediately upon contact with the ground, but they were still there.

"Who's tradition?" Hermione continued to try to protest. Ron refused to answer; instead he stopped in front of the door and opened it gallantly for Hermione.

"Thank you," she replied tartly, walking before him through the door. She waited for him to enter and then followed him to the hostess' stand.

"Weasley, party of two," he smiled at the waitress. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Certainly, sir," the petite waitress gathered some menus, "if you'll follow me, please." Ron stood back and allowed Hermione to follow directly behind her as she walked off in the opposite direction of the huge picture window at the front of the shop. Thank God!

"I can't believe you are making such a fuss over this," Ron began, undoing his jacket as they walked to the table, "can't I take my girlfriend out on a real date without our best friend, or my sister, or your stupid prat of a roommate tagging along? How often do we get to do something outside your room that's just us?" Both Hermione and the waitress turned shocked expressions on him.

"That's not what I meant!" he sputtered at the waitress, "I mean something outside Hogwarts." Thankfully, the waitress left and Hermione just grinned at him as she sat down. He mimicked her, sitting down and opening his menu. Did they serve nothing but saccharine nonsense at this place? Hermione was right, they would have been better off at the Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head. He looked up to see Hermione pursing her lips.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I just didn't expect this place to be as pricey as it is. I don't know if I brought enough cash," she answered without thinking.

"What are you worried about? I'm paying." Great, now he looked insulted.

"Ron…"

"Don't start! You're my girlfriend, and we are out on our first official date, and I am paying; end of story."

Despite the itch to argue that just because she was his girlfriend didn't mean that she had suddenly become a dependent, Hermione remained silent. This was so important to him; she didn't want to ruin it.

"I've got the money, you know." Why was he still harping on this?

"Ok."

"I did spend all summer working, you know."

"I know, Ron. I guess, in some ways, I am just more liberal than you are. I think that a girl should be prepared to pay for herself when she goes out. It's even within the realm of possibility that she might treat her boyfriend on a date." She added that last bit just to tease him, though she fully intended on paying next time, even if she had to hex him to do it. When she looked up from her menu, he was staring slack-jawed at her. She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. He was too cute. She swore she heard him muttering something about "whacked-out Muggles" under his breath.

"Just get whatever you want," he finally responded, opening the menu in front of him once again.

She crossed her arms on the table and looked at him. "I already have everything I want." He wouldn't look at her, but she could see the tops of his ears turning red.

"Anything you want from the menu." He sounded a little exasperated. And this was entirely too much fun.

The waitress returned, and they ordered. After she left, Ron looked as though he was preparing himself for something. Hermione sat back expectantly. When it looked as though he was going to loose his nerve, she prodded him.

"Was there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about, or should I choose a topic?" Poor boy looked a bit startled.

"Well, it's just…er…do you remember the other day, when you fell during your 'meeting' with McGonagal?" Hermione frowned.

"I remember bits and pieces." She really didn't want to talk about that meeting.

"It's just that, well, you said something to me when we were leaving the hospital wing and I was just wondering if what you said was true or if it was just the drugs talking." Hmm…this was interesting.

"What did I say?" Hermione honestly didn't know what exactly he was referring to, but she was happy that whatever it was did not involve her turning into a bird. Ron took a deep breath.

"You…well, you said that you loved me." He refused to look at her. Hermione couldn't breathe. Had she really said that? Had she really told him? And in some completely stupid situation when she was all doped up on painkillers? She wanted to crawl into a hole. She had always imagined some incredibly romantic setting when she told Ron that she loved him. Not the hospital wing, for crying out loud!!! Although, with their rather bizarre relationship, from the time they met until now, AND all the time they had spent in the hospital wing either as patients or visiting each other, it made a strange sort of sense.

"Oh," she said, realizing at last that Ron was most likely desperately waiting for some sort of reaction, "no, I didn't remember that I told you that."

"Did you mean it?" he had gained some courage from somewhere and was looking her in the face now. She held his eyes.

"Yes." He smiled.

"What did you say in response?" She wasn't about to let him get off the hook so easily.

"I told you I loved you too." She couldn't help the smile that burst on her face or the warmth in her stomach at his words. She placed her napkin in her lap as the waitress arrived with their food.

"Are you ever going to say it again?" Ron asked after they were once again alone. Hermione just looked at him.

"It would just be nice to hear, you know, when you weren't all inebriated." Apparently, her silence irritated him. She put her fork down and leaned forward on the table. She looked directly at him.

"I love you, Ron." He smiled at that, finally.

"Like I said, it's nice to hear."

"Well, you should expect to hear it more often from now on."

"Is that so?"

"Yes; saying it the first time is the hardest, or so I've been told. From here on in, it should be a piece of cake." They grinned at each other.

"Does it seem odd to you that the first time I told you I loved you was in the hospital wing?" Hermione asked after a few bites of her pot pie.

"Honestly, no. We've spent quite a few hours there over the years," Ron replied, "although, for you I think the library would have been more appropriate."

"Oh, ha ha ha."

"A lot of interesting things have happened in the hospital wing," he took a deep breath again, "and since we're being so honest, I should confess that I was awake."

"When?"

"After I fell out of the boat and into the water in September. When you and Harry were having your little discussion about me. I was awake."

"Oh." Hermione felt naked. She had given away a lot about her feelings that day. The trauma and her emotions made her reckless.

"What would you do had you lost me?"

"That's not funny, Ron. I try not to think about it." He sobered instantly. She was right, surprise, surprise. Even though they had been given a grace period and were ignoring the danger that was out there, that didn't mean that it wasn't just that: out there.

"Sorry."

"It's all right," she put her fork down, "since we're both being so honest, I guess I should confess that I was awake in the hospital wing too."

"When?"

"After the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh." He didn't look particularly happy at the memory. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"It never seemed like a good time. And then suddenly you were snogging Lavender…and…well, I started to think that I had imagined the whole thing. Why didn't you ever mention it?"

"What was I supposed to say, 'Hey Hermione, back when you were passed out I kissed you?' That sounds like a one-way ticket to getting my bits hexed off. No thanks."

"Hmm…well, I guess that's understandable."

"That was my first kiss you know."

"Really?!?!" Hermione was just delighted to hear that.

"Yes. You don't have to look so incredibly happy about it."

"Why not? This just gives me another thing to tell Lavender to bugger off about."

"Why Hermione, I had no idea you were so vengeful."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's cute, in a dark and twisted sort of way."