Sunday Night Sex Talk

by Priah

With only a trace left of 7th year, Hermione makes a startling discovery. She is given the task of providing her peers the sexual education they so desperately need, with Draco Malfoy as her only assistance. Too much sex talk with Malfoy can lead to interesting things... [This fic is being revised!]

3. Machiavelli Migraines

Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"Looks like you were right after all, Granger. My mistake," he noted dully, adjusting his tie as if he were to be meeting someone important. "I suggest you go say goodnight and get to bed early; we've planning to do in the morning." Without another word, Draco clenched his jaw and started in the direction of their common room, leaving Hermione to stare after him.

Had he just apologized?

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Chapter Three: Machiavelli Migraines

When Draco rose in the morning, he groaned in remembrance that he would be forced to spend his last Sunday of freedom with Granger and debated going back to bed, but her paper rustling, chanting, and frustrated cursing from the common room sparked his curiosity. He slipped into more modest clothing and made his way into a hellfire issuing from the sofa where Hermione, looking as if she hadn't bothered to sleep at all the night before, was sitting cross legged, surrounded by texts and tightly scripted notes, biting her lips as her wand refused to cooperate. She didn't notice him immediately, and he stayed quiet, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her struggle to properly pronounce a spell.

After taking a breath to compose herself, Hermione lifted her wand into the air, chin high and looking confident, and carefully enunciated each syllable. A pair of naked lovers leaked like smoke from her wand tip, forming into the air in front of her. Within seconds, they were blatantly copulating in the middle of the common room, with no regard to their audience. Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she watched them silently moan and explore their partners. Draco, too, was shocked; his eyebrows buried themselves in his hair and he glanced away before smirking.

"Did I come at a bad time, Granger?" he asked, taking a step into the common room, and Hermione emitted a high pitched screech, waving her arms to clear the smoky paramours. Draco chuckled to himself. "No pun intended, of course." When her task was completed, Hermione turned toward her dorm-mate, blushing to the tips of her ears.

"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, unable to look at him. Draco laughed again, coming toward her and taking a short cut over the couch before sitting down. Hermione stared at the notes in her lap, mortified and easeless. "Malfoy, I asked you a question," she reminded boldly, and he grinned.

"Just a minute or so. Good show, Granger; would you like to be left alone with... yourself?" he asked, smirking wildly, and she glowed red.

"Shut your gob, Malfoy. I wasn't... in the situation that you're implying; I was trying to figure out how to work these diagram charms, but it seems I have the magical capabilities of a seafaring cow," she said, staring at her wand as if it had betrayed her. Draco, smirking, opened his mouth to comment, but Hermione snapped her head up and cut him off. "And don't you dare say it's because I'm a mudblood, because it isn't... I just..." She looked back down. "I don't know why. I just... can't."

"Well, Granger, if you'd let me speak, maybe I could help you," Draco suggested hotly, as if irked by her interruption, but memories of recent events would not allow him to do anything but smirk at her discomfort. Hermione looked up sadly, waiting for him to continue. "It's because you're a girl, and not just that, an innocent little pristine prude of a girl." Hermione's eyes narrowed. Imagine, she thought. I really thought he was going to help me.

"What would you know about it?" she asked sharply, crossing her arms and looking away. The red had recently drained from her cheeks, but it colored them slightly at his implication.

"It's obvious, Granger, and common sense at that. I'm not trying to insult you," he admitted and she looked up, lifting an eyebrow. He smirked. "I know; don't get used to it. This time, really, it's just because you're so embarrassed. All magic stems from confidence, thus why you are always so good at everything. You believe you can do it, so you can. You put yourself in a narcissistic mindset and you could Avada someone, if you wanted; that, Granger, is why you're such a good witch," he said, gesticulating with a pointed finger. "Right now, you're embarrassed, as any inexperience girl would be; you don't think you can do the spells, you might not even want to do the spells, and so you can't do them. If you want this right, all you have to do is try."

"What?" Hermione asked, softly and without conviction; she was confused. Draco had insulted and complimented her all at one time; she wasn't sure if she should kick him or kiss him. "You think I'm not trying? Draco, I've been out here practically since dawn working on this spell." Draco waved her comments away.

"I know you're not trying, Granger," he said, reaching behind him to pull his wand from his belt loop. "See? Prodeo Corpus Australis." Immediately from his wand, two smoky conformations emerged. The figures started at the abdomen and stopped mid-thigh, and were cut through the middle to display all within. Hermione blushed at them and looked away, but Draco smirked at her. "If I can do it, you surely can," he said, deciding not to comment on her rouge.

"If you can do it, I don't have to," Hermione countered, shuffling through her freshly written pile of notes. "You'll be there, after all. Actually, I'm glad you're awake. This will be much easier once you agree with everything I say. Now, I've been working for a while; this is what I have so far..." she said, changing the subject slightly, and passing her script into his hands. Draco set his wand on the back of the couch, and the diagrams disappeared the moment it left his contact. Lifting an eyebrow, he looked down at the papers, and back up at her.

"What's all this, then?"

"Their notes; I've still to copy them, but ultimately that's it. I've left spaces, see? To keep them paying attention... and I wrote up the first three unit tests. We don't have a real text book, but I'm sure there's something in the library we can use as a substitute. What do you think?" Hermione explained, smiling brightly and proud of her work. Draco gaped at the paper.

"I think you're bloody bonkers, Granger. Do you really think their going to take any of this seriously? We're not real teachers, they've no O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s... no one is going to listen to us. I wanted to tell Dumbledore that yesterday, but he went and threatened my badge, and I shut my trap. Honestly, no matter what we do, it's going to be a room full of chaos; we'll probably get cursed at some point. Not to mention the topic of conversation we have to present. Come on, Granger, honestly; you know your friends. What are they going to do when you bring all this up?" Draco countered logically, waving the note packet in the air. Hermione frowned deeply; she'd worked hard on those notes.

"They're going to laugh," she deadpanned, dropping her shoulders. Draco frowned in unison, feeling almost guilty at losing for her the radiance of accomplishment.

"Right," he said tonelessly, dropping the papers back into his lap. Hermione waited a moment, thinking, and shrugged.

"We'll just have to think of a way to make them listen to us," she said, as if it was obvious, and Draco lifted an eyebrow in curiosity.

"How?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, shrugging again. "Brainstorm," she decided finally, standing from the couch. "I am going to breakfast; come with me if you wish. When we get back, we can compare." As Hermione skipped toward the door, Draco smirked after her and shook his head; nothing seemed to ever really get that girl down. One could piss her off, but dishearten her? Impossible.

"Granger," he called after and Hermione whirled in a flurry of amber curls and pleated skirts. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." She frowned slightly, looking confused.

"Why?"

"Well," Draco reminded, settling into the couch and starting to read over her notes. "Dumbledore's going to tell the school at breakfast. Do you want to be there for that?" Hermione pouted, shaking her head, and started slowly back to the couch.

"But I'm hungry," she complained, placing a hand over her abdomen. "I didn't sleep through it like some people." Draco smirked.

"Well, then, have a tea cake and start helping me. Honestly, you really are useless," he grumbled, swinging his legs onto the couch and stretching out with her notes as if they were his favorite piece of light literature.

"Me? Useless? I've been up for hours! What've you done? Abso-bloody-nothing, that's what!" Hermione steamed, losing her carefree ambiance quickly. She made to flop down on Draco's feet, but he moved them just in time and she bounced on the cushion instead.

"Mood swings really are your bag, aren't they?" he asked playfully, and she glared. "I'm just kidding. Loosen up; how am I supposed to work with you if you've always a stick up your arse?"

"I am very much cognizant of your attempt at humor. I just didn't think it was very funny. I was proud of that, and then you tell me I'm useless and a laughing stock. No, not very funny at all."

"Again, Granger," he said, "To extract, turn a quarter anticlockwise and pull."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, tossing a throw pillow at his head, effectively beaning him and making more room for herself on the sofa. "You are such a guy. I'd like to turn you a quarter anticlockwise."

"Always the kinky one, aren't you?" he asked impishly and she ignored him. "You've spelt epididymis wrong. It'd d-y-m, not d-i-m." Hermione went immediately red.

"Well, fix it then," she mumbled, passing him her feather quill. Acting as if nothing had occurred, Draco did as requested and effectively made her mistake seem nonexistent. "Not that it matters anyway; we won't be needing them."

"Oh, I don't know," Draco countered archly. "They really are a necessity when creating Dramiones." Hermione punched him in the calf.

"I meant my notes," she corrected edgily, setting her jaw. Draco nodded.

"I'm aware. I couldn't help it; you set yourself up for that one," he leveled and she crossed her arms. "Anyway, I think you're on to something. If we can think up an idea to get them to listen to us, torture by way of note taking will do them good. Any suggestions? Well, I have one." Hermione had no more opened her mouth before he interrupted her. She closed it quickly, with an irritated hmph. "Ladies first, of course," Draco countered, hiding his playful smirk behind his current reading selection. Hermione's pursed lips relaxed and she looked surprised, casting a glance at his hidden face.

"Oh," she said softly, giving a nod. "All right. We could remind them that they can't graduate without a passing grade." Draco's eyebrows narrowed and he looked up over his papers.

"They can't?" he asked and Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know. White lie wouldn't hurt," she said softly, almost embarrassed, and Draco gave half a smile.

"Now you're playing dirty, Granger. I bet they'd believe it too. Though, half of them aren't going to graduate anyway, so it wouldn't be much of an intimidation," he cited and she bit her lip.

"Well, we could pose threat over them. First we'll promise a low number of tests and homework based on grades and conduct, then constantly recall the fact that their work reflects their decisions."

"In theory, that would work," Draco granted, rubbing a thumb along his chin. "But we're in reality, not theory. All that will do is irk the good ones. If you threaten someone who doesn't do homework with more homework... that's just more they aren't going to do. And then everyone will hate you, because they find the situation unfair." Hermione sighed.

"Must you contradict everything I pose?"

"I'm playing devil's advocate, that's what I'm supposed to do. We're bettering our practice here, Granger; open up," he said, eyes still scanning his documents. Hermione growled and stole them from his hands, throwing them on the table.

"Would you stop that? How can you read my notes, listen to me, and think of a logical way to make me an idiot all at the same time?"

"All about you, isn't it?" he teased, and she scoffed. "It's called multitasking; doesn't take a mastermind. If it bothers you so much, I'll stop; no need to lose your stick up there."

"Would you stop with the stick? You're so irritating. Let's stop pretending to have a conversation and actually work, so we can get this over with."

"All right, all right," Draco agreed, holding up his hands in surrender. He sat up against the armrest and overenthusiastically placed all of his attention on her. "Next suggestion, then." Hermione struggled for a moment to think of something, then exploded in a sigh of frustration.

"Why don't you share your brilliant idea? As of yet you've done no work at all but make me royally annoyed with you."

"All in a day's..." Draco began, but her glare of daggers stopped him and he laughed. "Okay, I'm sorry, Granger, all right? I just love the way you look when you're all flustered like that." Hermione's blanched, but Draco didn't seem to notice; he laced his fingers and found his place on the train of thought. "Moving on... I once read a wonderful book by a Monsieur Niccolò Machiavelli, in which it was stated that 'For my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. She is, therefore, always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity command her.'" Hermione gaped at him.

"You memorized that?" she asked and Draco nodded.

"It was my favorite passage. I laughed right aloud and scared my mother half to death; it's like a sacrilege to make any noise whatsoever during what I like to consider 'social hour' at my home. It's when we bond; just after tea, I read, mother knits, and father sits doing absolutely nothing. Perhaps he meditates. I'd never the gall to ask."

"As interesting as this all is... you realize that both your 'social hour' and the passage you've recited to me, to which I might have taken offense if I hadn't read The Prince and likewise had not known what you were talking about, are completely irrelevant to the conversation at hand?"

"Yes, but the novel is not. I suggest we take a leaf. Perhaps 'We have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed' is more suited to your fancy?" he asked sarcastically, but Hermione smirked at him.

"At least that makes sense; and poses a rather interesting point. We make them fear us? I foresee a brightened future... and I know just the spell."

-x- -x- -x-

Sunday night happened upon Draco and Hermione faster than either had imagined. Having something to instill such anxiety made the days meld into nights and the week bleed into the weekend. There was a Hogsmeade visit planned and most seventh years attended, sulking over their loss of weekend due to their newly scheduled class; it meant less time for last minute homework and snogging. No one was pleased.

Hermione had stated midweek that she planned to use her empty Saturday to do as much homework as possible, finishing things that were due as late as the following Friday, as to leave time slots open for future planning of her new extracurricular. Draco was not quite so ambitious, and did little more than was necessary, but spent the entire afternoon on the common room floor with Hermione, often pretending to be working or reading things not noted in the curriculum. There was sparse conversation, the occasional comparing of notes and answers, and volunteered kitchen runs for breakfast, lunch, and tea, but absolutely no talk of the following night.

Hermione, herself, did not want to jinx their plans. She had spent more time with Malfoy that week then she expected even his mother would wish to, going over material that incessantly brought a blush to her cheeks, and she wasn't willing to spoil it now. Draco often noted her sensitivity and innocence with mirth and Hermione had given up on defending herself; she was an honest and obvious virgin and Draco was only speaking the truth when pointing out such things. Secretly, she hoped her cold shoulder to his comments would stop them, but each time he uttered an unclean word, she would emit a rose colored glow from her cheeks, and he would continue to prod her.

The Sunday morning sun rose hours before any Hogwarts student. Even Hermione allowed herself a few extra hours of rest, feeling well prepared and almost excited about the upcoming event. When she had primped every aspect of her appearance and felt fresh for the big day, Hermione flounced into the common room and embraced the welcoming atmosphere. It was picturesque; the sunlight streamed through the windows and played rainbows on the burgundy carpet, creating a mystic mood and aura.

As Hermione danced in the little prism rainbows, Draco entered through the portrait, carrying with him a plate of bangers and mash. Hermione danced past him, bidding him good morning, and waltzed herself to the portrait hole. Draco watched her with an incredulous eye.

"What happened to you, Granger? Did you get some last night?" he asked, almost honestly, and Hermione displayed her tongue for him to see.

"Can't I just be happy without you twisting it into something foul?" she asked him, scrunching her nose. Draco shrugged, standing still in his place. Annoyed at his lack of response, Hermione shook her head and twirled toward the door, again attempting to leave the confines of her dormitory.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, brow creased as he took a step forward. Hermione turned back in mere surprise; he sounded almost as if he were concerned.

"Malfoy, what's wrong with you?" she asked, lifting a brow at him, and Draco took a step back, splaying his empty palm as means of defending himself.

"Sorry, sorry," he chanted, moving toward the couch. "Just I wouldn't go to breakfast if I were you. No one liked me before and they all hounded me with questions. You'll be torn to bits." Hermione pursed her lips and lifted her chin.

"You don't scare me, Malfoy. Nothing can get me down today; I'm making a point of it. See you when I see you," she noted, waving fleetingly before disappearing through the portal. Draco made himself comfortable with his breakfast, sighing into the cushions.

"You'll be back," he predicted. "And you'll wish you'd listened."

-x-

Hermione hadn't made it but to the end of the hall before she was bombarded with a tidal wave of seventh years. It seemed they had gotten very little out of Draco when he had passed through, and were not about to take no for an answer twice. They sprang on her, leaping around the corner and stalking as one being down the hall, forcing Hermione back toward her portrait. They continued, speaking a plethora of questions and threats jumbled and indistinguishable from one another, and quickly enclosed Hermione against her painting. She had long lost her carefree attitude, and was pressed flush to the wall, paranoid and with good reason.

Harry and Ron pushed themselves to the front of the crowd and Hermione grinned as she spotted them, hoping to be saved.

"Hermione!" Harry called, shoving a few Ravenclaw to his side.

"Harry!" Hermione returned, her voice lost in the sea of chatter. She tried to fend off as many as she could, answering any questions she could hear over others and anticipating Harry and Ron's arrival. They squeezed in to the small bit of personal space surrounding her, looking disheveled and winded, and shielding her from the crowd. Hermione almost wanted to hug them.

"Hermione," Ron said in relief, taking her hand. "Come on, you've got to tell us everything. I can't take it anymore."

"What?" she asked impatiently, fighting as he pulled her into the crowd.

"Hermione? Hermione! Hermione!" She heard from all sides, feeling dozens of hands jerking her between them. Even had she wanted to go with Ron, it would have been impossible; she was ripped from his grasp and both he and Harry were thrown out of the mob that was closing in on their friend. Hermione felt almost as if she were trying to breathe under water.

"Oi! Everyone! Belt up!" she finally screamed, standing still in the center of the chaos. Hermione hadn't expected it to work, but a hush rippled over the crowd, and in seconds the hall was speechless and immobile. "All right," she continued slowly. "Every one of you, just take a good three steps away from me..." They did. "There," she said, exhaling. "Now, just give me a moment and I'll tell you everything. All right?" The seventh years looked at one another, nodding in unison and turning back to their moderator. "Everyone take a seat, there you are." Once the students were seated and Hermione had composed herself, she began her questionnaire. "Right, now..." she started, scanning the room for someone to call on first. Just as Hannah Abbot was sure she would be chosen, Hermione spun and hurtled her way over the bodies, disappearing into her common room before any could register to go after her.

Hermione stood behind the portrait door, breathing with difficulty and looking up at the wooden frame. As if crossing paths with the Hogwarts Express, a roar slammed into the canvas with such force that Hermione fell backward onto the carpet, feet away from the wall of pounding fists and raging tones. She lifted herself onto her elbows in alarm, but allowed herself to relax onto the flooring when all was determined safe. She heard a warm chuckle, separate from the curtain of noise blanketing her only exit, and looked up to see Malfoy peering down at her with a grin pasted to his face, looking pleased with himself.

"All right, Granger?" he asked her honestly, though she knew his true intent. Hermione glared at him, and Draco pretended to be surprised. "What's this then? And here I am, thinking that nothing would get you down today? That's down if I ever saw it, what you are right now." Hermione sighed and pulled herself from the floor.

"Were you born to point out my flaws, Malfoy?"

"I'd like to imagine so. I have discovered something, Granger; I am your compliment," Draco boasted, smirking in triumph, but Hermione lifted an eyebrow as she brushed off her skirts.

"My what? Did you say condiment? Blimey, now you've got my mind on food again," Hermione complained, running fingers through her disheveled hair. "Why is it me who must always skip meals?"

"No, Granger, I said compliment... and as for breakfast, I brought you some. Had you not been so cheery and keen on suicide, I might have told you earlier," he told her irately, gesturing to the table near the couch. Hermione, brows crossed, glanced over her shoulder. A full plate of food sat next to Draco's quarter eaten one, waiting to be introduced to her churning stomach. Hermione turned slowly back to Draco, who was looking irritated, and lifted an eyebrow.

"But..."

"I made two trips; the first time I got down all right... and the caught me off guard on the stairwell. It was only a few, but I saw the timid ones in the shadows, waiting. You plan to eat it, don't you? I risked my neck for that; got you a clean fork and everything," he told her, walking past her to retake his seat on the couch. Hermione nodded softly, following in his footsteps and taking her own breakfast to rest on her lap. She thanked him awkwardly, and Draco mumbled a reply over a mouthful of sausage, viewing her from the corner of his eye. There was silence until the banging at the door calmed merely to desperate moans, and Hermione began to think back on the events. It had happened all so fast; they'd accosted her out of nowhere. She could have sworn she'd been wearing a tie.

"What's this about a compliment?" Hermione asked suddenly, disturbing the silence as she remembered what he had said, and Draco inhaled, nodding as he finished a bite of his meal.

"Right," he recalled, running the pad of his thumb over his lips and abandoning half his breakfast on the table. "I was thinking and that was my conclusion."

"I'm not sure I understand," Hermione admitted, paying optimal attention; partially in thanks for his generous donation to her square meal fund and also because his enthusiasm intrigued her.

"We are completely and utterly opposite," Draco stated with conviction. "I am the salt to your pepper, and you are the sharp to my dull." Hermione lifted an eyebrow, and he continued. "The shell to my yolk; the grass to my stars; the chaos to my silence; the apples to my oranges... the ocean to my desert," he listed. "Don't you see? It's so obvious. It's the counterpart theory; you are my counterpart." Hermione chewed slowly, digesting his words as well as her sausage, and eyeing Draco as if he had gone completely insane. He waited impatiently for her response, nodding his head in encouragement. "Well?"

"You know, Draco..." she began, sounding enlightened, and he grinned, assuming she would agree. "You really sound as if you're proclaiming undying love to me just now." Draco's face fell and he sighed, crossing his arms and leaning backward.

"Buggar," he mumbled. "I should've known you wouldn't take me seriously." Hermione smirked at his reaction and decided a little salt to rub in his peppered wound wouldn't hurt.

"Well, of course I wouldn't. I'm your opposite; I have to disagree with you, it's in the job description," she teased and Draco whirled toward her, looking lividly frustrated.

"No, you wouldn't; that's the beauty of it; it's so complex... so elaborate and intricate... oh hell, forget it," he breathed, exasperated. "I wish you'd merely disagreed; at least then I'd have had a debate. Your disregard is just pissing me off." As Draco made to storm to his room, Hermione laughed aloud, holding his arm to keep him seated.

"Would you tone it down a bit? I don't know why you're so worked up," she said, smiling as she drew her attention back to her breakfast. "What's wrong, Malfoy? You've been acting stranger than usual lately; this week in particular. I can recall numerous compliments projected in my direction, and if that isn't enough evidence, you brought me breakfast and proclaimed, in a very romantic and philosophical way, that we are soul-mates. An outsider might think you fancy me." Draco didn't miss a beat.

"I told you Granger," he reminded. "I would if you weren't a Gryffindor." Leaving Hermione open mouthed and staring, Draco took to his room to finish what he had started and return to his comfortably unmade bed. Hermione sat slack-jawed in the common room for many minutes more, running the conversation over in her head. Draco was definitely acting strangely. On any given day, she'd have expected him to storm out of the room on such a comment as she had offered, but Draco had taken it like truth and agreed. He had implied that the only thing standing between them was her friends.

Was he serious?

Bastard.

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A/N: I don't know if anyone else noticed... but reviewing is like, broken on You can't review. If you do, no one will see it; it won't be emailed and it won't show up in the log. I don't know why. It's been like this for days; the mods have to have noticed by now. It's just a question of how long it'll take them to fix it. :oD (this is as of 3/2/04. If it's like April, don't listen to what I've said :oD ) Email me if you want; we can chat or something. :oD .