Once Upon a Time During SEX:

"What I said about the Gryffindor. I didn't mean it, really. I didn't expect you to get upset," he explained and Hermione smiled, shrugging slightly.

"It's okay, Draco. I told you, I wasn't that upset. I overreacted on purpose, so we wouldn't need the spell tonight. It worked out all right, I'm not mad at you," she told him, and Draco gave a nod.

"Good, then. Sweet dreams," he said and, spinning on his heel, made his way to his bedroom and closed the door. Well, Hermione thought. That was odd.

Hell, that boy altogether was one rook short of Wizard's Chess.

-----------------------------------

Chapter Five: Proverbial Bloodshed

"Okay, is everything ready?" Harry asked, surveying the room. Ron and Aly gave him simultaneous thumbs up, grinning from ear to ear. "Good," he said, "Everybody hide." In a wave of giggles and excitement, all the occupants of the Gryffindor girl's dormitory crouched behind beds and furniture, whispering quietly amongst those shushing.

"Is Ginny downstairs already?" Aly asked Harry, who had situated himself on the opposite side of Ron, and he nodded.

"Hermione's not one to be late to anything; early would be a better guess. She's been waiting for ten minutes already," he said, sharing a friendly smirk with Ron at his girlfriend's expense. The redhead, however, lost his amused expression more quickly and traded it for one of uncertainty.

"I still don't understand this, Harry. Are you sure it's going to work? What's an... ub-birthday?"

"It's unbirthday, Ron," Aly corrected, shaking her blonde curls softly. "And yes," she added. "It most definitely will work. I'd simply die if someone did this for me." Aly sighed dreamily, turning her face away from the Gryffindor boys, who lifted simultaneous eyebrows at her state.

"Right..." Ron mumbled, then turned to his best friend. "I still don't get it." Harry sighed.

"Remember in first year...? It was the second or third day of school, before we really even liked Hermione, and she was standing in the middle of the common room, preaching about a book she was reading that she 'thought we would find beneficial' because we seemed to be having 'identity crises'?" he asked impatiently, lending to the idea that Ron was completely mad for not having recalled. He stared blankly, jaw slacked and eyelids dropping slowly as he blinked.

"Harry," he started softly, as if afraid to offend. "Hermione does that practically everyday. How am I to remember one specific book?"

"This was the very first time she'd ever done that. She made a lot of choices that day; she came out as herself and showed everyone who she was, what they were dealing with. I'm sure she didn't realize it at the time, but that was a very important move for her. This, what we're doing here, is tribute to that," Harry said, having no trouble finding words to express what he had spent hours creating and plotting. Ron stared somewhat blankly, but his attention remained focused, trying to fit together whatever point Harry was trying to make. "That book, the one that she composed an oral analysis of right there in the middle of the common room, was Alice in Wonderland. Of course, I didn't actually read it, but I saw the film with my cousin that summer." Harry paused. "Well, sort of. He was watching it in the family room and I spied through the knothole in my cupboard door, but I got the gist of the whole thing. The Unbirthday is every day out of the year that isn't your birthday. There was a mad rabbit and a barmy man with a green hat... having tea. They were singing, too. Come to think of it... that whole thing was rather disturbing." Ron gaped.

"Harry, how can you remember that? It was like... six or seven years ago!" he asked in astonishment and Harry gave half a smile, shrugging.

"I remember my very first pair of shoes," he said off handedly, "and that was about twelve years ago. They were bright orange and brand new... and then Dudley threw a fit because they were 'the fruitiest Easter gift he'd ever received' and ran over them in the driveway with his bike before my Aunt finally told him to stop and let me have them. They were dirty, about three sizes too big; one had a cracked sole and the other a broken shoelace, but I loved them. I wore them until I bought new ones with my school uniform." There was silence for a moment as both Ron and Aly gaped at him, though for completely different reasons.

"Harry, what colour did I try to turn Scabbers that day on the train?" Ron asked in a manner that issued an overspill of importance to the answer, and Harry lifted an eyebrow.

"Yellow?" he said inquisitively, and Ron's eyes widened further.

"...How?"

"You remember it too, don't you?" Harry countered and Ron nodded slowly.

"Well, yeah... but I spent a whole month before that trying to learn the spell. I hear it in my nightmares sometimes," he said melodramatically and Aly gave him a cool and sideways glare, pursing her lips in disapproval. With a flattened palm, she swung at the back of his fiery head and he drew his eyebrows in confusion. "Oy! What's that about?" She shook her head.

"You're such a dolt, Ron; really," the blonde girl muttered, then turned to Harry, ignoring Ron as he tried to inflict guilt and pity by whimpering softly and rubbing the back of his skull. "Your first pair of shoes was at age six?" she asked Harry, mouth drawn in a wiry little frown. He gave her a half smile in validation of her question and Aly exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as if the idea should have been obvious. "No wonder you've such flat feet." At this, Ron stopped his pity party and focused his undivided attention instead on Aly.

"And how would you know?" he asked accusingly, earning himself an eye roll from Harry and a smirk from the blonde at his side.

"Oh, are you jealous, Ronny? Betrayed you for Harry's feet, have I?"

"Perhaps you should hide in the closet, Al," Harry suggested, now smiling amusedly at the taunting. "The floor isn't the best place to avoid feet. Ron has a right to be suspicious." Ron's face flushed so that his freckles blended perfectly into his skin.

"Oh, shuttup," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "I hear Hermione coming." It was a lie, and an obvious one, but worked out none the less. Aly let her bottom lip encase her top one, forming an irresistible pout that had Ron easily less tense and grumpy. Mission complete, she smiled and kissed his cheek, then settled down to watch the door for signs of the Head Girl's appearance. Harry, always the smartass, leaned forward in mock of Aly's display of affection and Ron glared slightly as he pushed him hard in the chest. Harry laughed, but was shushed by another, who quickly spread the word. The quiet chatter in the room died down and Hermione could be heard in deep conversation with Ginny about what to expect in the second half of sixth year potions.

"Ginny must have said she needed help with homework," Harry said under his breath to Ron, who nodded at the possibility.

"... and after that, Snape likes to torture you with different medicinal potions which have drastic effects if produced incorrectly, and threatens to send any improper potions to Madam Pomfrey for use in the ward. I doubt he actually does; with some of the mistakes I remember from last year, I'd wager half the school would be out with missing ligaments or added plumage..." Hermione could be heard, her voice growing slightly clearer as she neared the door. Ginny could be heard laughing overenthusiastically at her anecdotes; a warning sign to those within.

"Get ready!" Harry hissed along the floorboards, and bodies fidgeted in anticipation as the doorknob turned.

"Surprise!" yelled the guests in unison, startling Hermione so that she dropped her book bag for favor of covering her gaping mouth.

"What? But... my birthday isn't until..." she trailed off, stuttering, but Harry and Ron came quickly to her rescue, grinning at their clever co-conspiring.

"This isn't for your birthday, Hermione," Ron corrected and Harry nodded.

"It's for your unbirthday."

-x- -x- -x-

"So, anyway, Hannah," Hermione said, taking a step into stance and serving the birdie to the best of her ability over the net between them. "I don't understand what's going on," she continued, stopping only to retort a move made by the pretty bronze haired Hufflepuff immediate her. "First they were normal, then distant for a few days, and now they're treating me as if I could die at any moment. They've been complimenting me and carrying my books and making sure I eat properly... I'm beginning to wonder if I've got some strange, exotic disease and I'm the only one who doesn't know about it."

"Yeah," Hannah replied, dashing across her side of the makeshift badminton court which was constructed on the Quidditch pitch in the middle of a row of five. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to that party, but when McGonagall says she won't accept anything late, she means it. She had me proofreading essays until midnight... and then she did them all over and graded me on my accuracy!" She swiped at the birdie with brute force to slake relief from her frustration, but missed and spun to the ground. Hermione immediately broke the rudimentary rules of badminton to cross below the net and assist her fallen friend.

"Are you all right?" she asked immediately, but Hannah was already getting to her feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, standing to dust off her standard issue Games uniform; a pleaded skirt of house black and matching top embossed with a large printed replica of the Hufflepuff crest. Hermione, who was also wearing her Games apparel (though Gryffindor themed), noticed a certain angry twinge to Hannah's retort.

"Are you sure...?" she repeated gently, letting her racket hang low to the ground whilst she placed her other hand on Hannah's shoulder. The Hufflepuff girl sighed in exasperation.

"You know, you might think Snape has certain disrespect for Gryffindor, but I tell you; everyone has disrespect for Hufflepuff. I even think Professor Sprout expects less from us. We're not stupid, you know. I'm sick of people always thinking so," she said, taking a step to the left to retrieve the birdie lying immobile in the grass.

"I know you're not," Hermione said, trying to be comforting, and Hannah gave a weak smile.

"I know. I didn't really mean everyone," she said and sighed. "I guess I'm just angry at McGonagall. I really don't like her much." The Gryffindor allowed herself half a smile as she made her way back to her end of the court.

"Truth be told, neither do I... but she has good intentions, so I do give her credit."

Hannah smiled and made to serve, but a whistle pierced her concentration and she dropped both her racket and birdie for favor of covering her ears against it. Hermione, opposite her, did the same.

"Wrong! Wrong, Miss Abbot!" called Madam Hooch, descending on them from the air where she had been observing both the three lines of badminton courts and the boys' fencing matches on the other side of the pitch. "Two point penalty; it is Miss Granger's serve!" she scolded and Hannah looked troubled and nervous. Madam Hooch's voice softened as much as possible for the stiff old woman, and she gave a slight smile. "I know it may seem hard for you, but do try to stay to the rules, won't you? Miss Granger, I expect you to help your partner in any way you can."

"Yes, Madam," she said reluctantly and Hannah cast to her an accusing glare. Hermione turned her eyes to her canvas running shoes, feeling as if she had betrayed her friend. Madam Hooch nodded and kicked off, taking again to the air. Hermione and Hannah watched her grow smaller and turned away only when their teacher made a distinct and rapid beeline toward the boys' side of the field. Hermione hesitated before shifting from her spot. "I'm sorry." Hannah shrugged.

"It's okay," she said sadly. "What were you supposed to say? Come on; let's just play before she comes down again. It's your serve." Hannah surrendered the birdie to her Gryffindor opponent and moved back into position. Hermione, though she felt more words were somehow in order, sighed and returned to her spot as well, silently serving though her pitch did not make its mark in the service box across the field.

"Sorry! One thing I never was good at," Hermione called with a lopsided grin and Hannah smiled as she retrieved the birdie and launched it perfectly. Hermione managed to make a bunt, and the game commenced. There was a brief period of silence, which Hannah evidently did not enjoy, as she broke it quickly with spontaneous conversation.

"So, what were we talking about? Right; Harry and Ron. What was that party for, anyway?"

"You'll never believe it," Hermione warned, concentrating on the little rubber stopper complete with feathered cone.

"Try me."

"My unbirthday. Completely based on a film that I have never seen which took foundation from a book that I did read and happened to recommend. Somehow they thought my very first lecture on reading somehow... labeled me as myself; the bookish, bossy, passionate, annoying little egghead they seem to see me as. I guess they had good intentions and it was a sweet gesture, but the reasoning behind the party was utterly offensive."

"Don't be too hard on them. They obviously think your friendship is threatened by something and are trying their very best to make things stay the way they are," Hannah reasoned, making her plays flawlessly and foiling Hermione more than once. "They love you a lot."

"I know they do, they've just confused me. And on top of all that, I've this insanely bothersome class to prepare for and teach with Draco, and he's been acting strangely as well. I try to stay away from the Great Hall's treacle fudge; did someone slip something into it?" Hermione wondered aloud and Hannah laughed, shaking her head.

"'Tis a possibility, however unlikely. What's up with Malfoy?"

"That's just it, I've no idea," Hermione admitted, throwing her hands up in exasperation and missing a perfectly planned and accomplished pass. "If I didn't know better I'd say he was flirting. We've been having stranger conversations and spending more time together that absolutely necessary, and he's apologized to me on more than one occasion." Hannah, who had just prepared herself for a serve, stopped midway to stare in astonishment.

"Really? Malfoy?" she asked. "How do you mean? Did he... 'I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to hurt you...'?" Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. He made a comment once that he'd... spend more time with me if I wasn't in league with Gryffindor, as if I wanted or had choice in the matter... and we fought about it. Later that night he apologized for everything and told me he hadn't actually meant to offend me. What am I supposed to think about that?"

"Well, I assure you, I've no idea," Hannah said, shaking her head, but a smirk appeared on her lips. "But now would certainly be an opportune time to ask." Hermione leapt and made contact with the birdie at such an odd angle it shot directly into Hannah's abdomen and she caught it there with her hands.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, ignoring the fact that she had nearly maimed her Hufflepuff friend, and Hannah gestured with her racket to something a distance behind her partner.

Hermione turned to meet eyes with a silvery haired Slytherin who carried under his arm a foil and fencing helmet with his suit tucked neatly inside it. He, too, was wearing his uniform; identical to both Hermione and Hannah, but with long shorts, as per men's style, and themed of his own house. When the Head Boy saw that she had seen him, he lifted his free hand in a wave to his academic equal. Hermione, frozen in surprise, mutely returned the gesture, watching as Draco set his equipment down on the bottom row of the stadium stands and sat down beside it, lifting a knee to act as a prop for his chin as he watched the girls attempt the somewhat impossible act of mastering the age-old game of badminton.

"What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be fencing with the others?" Hermione asked through her teeth, ignoring Hannah's obvious amusement at the situation.

"I bet he came just in case you fall and your skirt rides up," she said, stifling a giggle with her hand. Hermione shot her a glare. "Oh, don't deny it, love! From what you've told me alone, Malfoy...- excuse me, would you prefer I call him Draco now?" She smirked. "Draco has an obvious infatuation with you. Come on, Hermione; Draco Malfoy doesn't apologize to anyone for anything less than murder, if that. Much less a muggleborn Gryffindor."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed at Hannah's latter comment and the Hufflepuff held up her birdie and racket in a gesture of defense.

"You know I have nothing against it, Hermione," she pleaded, but her friend looked anything but appeased, so Hannah continued. "Just as I know you have nothing against Hufflepuff." At this, Hermione seemed somewhat eased.

"Fair enough," she peered over her shoulder to see that Malfoy was indeed looking at her, but smoothly ran his gaze along the rest of her row and on to the next as if scouting for no specific someone. "Let's just ignore him and get this all over with, the pervert," Hermione suggested, looking down at her watch. She groaned. "Only another half hour before showers," she complained, rolling her eyes, and prepared her stance for Hannah's serve.

"Ready?" she asked of courtesy.

"Yeah," Hermione replied, trying futilely to detach her mind from the pureblooded peeping tom. Hannah made a flawless execution, but Hermione's swing merely grazed the feathered cone and sent the birdie tumbling down to earth. Self consciously, Hermione peered over her shoulder to Draco, who seemed to have anticipated her looking as his focus was now placed over the specks of pitch grass which resided within the tread of his shoes. She noticed, however, that he seemed somewhat disappointed, holding a frown on his lips and his brow wrinkled slightly. Hermione had a feeling it wasn't over the grass. She tossed the birdie back to Hannah and awaited another serve, vowing not to make a fool of herself.

She managed; after the first volley, each successful one became easier and less apprehensive until there was a dead heat between them and both managed to hit with accuracy and precision. In the end, it was still Hannah who gained a point and the right again to serve. After three more drops of the fledged cork, only one of which was a count against Hannah, Hermione sensed movement behind her. The event she had anticipated since his arrival had come upon them; Draco Malfoy was walking quickly toward her.

She looked away, pretending ineffectively that she hadn't noticed his approach. Hannah, who had control of the play, did not share Hermione's forethought and stared as the blond Slytherin made his way toward them. Draco stopped within feet of their court, watching silently as Hermione begged with her eyes to be served.

"Hey, Malfoy," Hannah said uneasily and Hermione groaned. She turned toward the new arrival, pretending to the best of her ability that she had not noticed his presence.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked in fabricated surprise. "Shouldn't you be fencing?" Draco shrugged.

"I was, until a few moments ago," he said, taking a step toward them. "Hooch kicked me out. Said to give the others more than a muggle's chance in Knockturn at becoming victor." Hermione and Hannah shared a look, then turned again to Malfoy, with skeptically raised eyebrows. He smirked. "All right, so I was a bit hard on Potter and Weasley. As of when is that a crime?" Hermione dramatically rolled her eyes.

"So what is it you want from me? Permission?" she asked, turning away and showing little interest in the conversation. Draco chuckled and shook his head.

"I want to play. I think you could use a bit of coaching anyway, Granger," he said and lifted his hand, gesturing for Hannah to surrender the birdie. Seeing no reason not to do so, she tossed it over the net and, though it did not make the intended mark of Draco's hand, he caught it as easily as he would a kamikaze snitch. Hermione shot her a sharp glare, but Hannah smiled innocently and went about toying with her racket.

"I most certainly do not. I am fine here, Draco, but thank you for your concern. Give me back my birdie so that I may put it into play," she stated unequivocally, making to snatch it from his casual grip. Draco quickly moved his hand out of her level of reach, holding the little cork high above his head.

"First of all, Hermione, it is a shuttlecock, not a birdie," he stated emphatically, stare narrowed at her improper terminology. Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco as well as Hannah, who had not properly contained her snicker at his inadvertently crude joke. Moments later, a smirk marred the Gryffindor's lips.

"Fine Draco, but give me back my cock and go get your own," she said, hands curled around her hips, and Draco smirked at her humor while Hannah burst into near hysterics.

"You two should go on tour! Stop by Hackney and get me a backstage pass, would you?"

"Oh, shuttup Hannah," Hermione shot at her, though her retort was lacking in any species of ire, and smirked between her consorts.

"So," Draco intruded, sharing his gaze between the girls. "May I play or not?" Hermione studied him for a moment, as if assessing his intention, then shrugged.

"All right," she said, saying a spell to temporarily duplicate her racket, and handed him the copy. "But nothing funny. And don't patronize me; I don't need your bloody coaching."

"Oh really? Is that why you only managed two points the entire time I was watching you?"

"Ha! So you admit you were watching me!" Hermione countered, poking an accusing finger directly toward him. Draco looked surprised.

"Well, yes. I couldn't take my eyes off you," he admitted without hesitation, and Hermione looked taken aback; she hadn't expected that sort of confession. Draco seemed not to notice her reaction. "It seemed like every move you made was wrong. It took all my willpower not to come over here about twenty minutes ago. You do need my help, Hermione. You may not be willing to accept it, but it would do you well to." Hermione stared heatedly, unable to form a proper comeback, and was forced to settle.

"You were fencing twenty minutes ago," she pointed out lamely and Draco lifted an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione emitted a frustrated growl. "Fine. Fine! I'm terrible at badminton. Hell, I'm terrible at everything sport, game, skill related. Why do you think I frequent the library? I can't have fun, so I read about people having fun. That doesn't mean I need your help, Draco, it just means I suck at badminton. Are we going to play or not?" Draco lifted his hands in defense and backed into his service box, though he held a smirk about his face whilst doing so. With an angry exhale, Hermione turned expectantly toward Hannah, waiting to see the shuttlecock make a flight over the net.

"Wait!" Hannah called. "We need a forth!" Pausing mid-serve, Draco pointed his racket toward a blonde Ravenclaw girl, dressed in blue, sitting cross-legged on the grass beside her racket and watching a heated game between Millicent Bulstrode and Lavender Brown. The house rivalry seemed to heat competition, as they showed no sign at all of allowing the meek Ravenclaw admission to the game.

"Hey," Draco called sideways to Hermione, who gave him her full attention and followed the path of his racket, spying the girl to which it pointed. "Do you know her name?" Hermione waved her hand in the air, neglecting to answer her Slytherin teammate.

"Aly! Aly, over here!"

-x- -x- -x-

"Hermione, you have some serious explaining to do," Harry said as he took his seat beside her, startling Hermione from both her jellied muffin and selected reading.

"Damn straight," Ron added as he appeared on the other side of the Gryffindor table. She marked her page and closed her book, then swallowed before giving them any attention. She noticed immediately that both seemed embarrassed, bowing their heads and hiding their faces.

"What are you two talking about?"

"Did you really play badminton with Hannah, Aly, and Malfoy during Games?" Ron demanded without hesitation, trying to look threatening while at the same time not making direct eye contact. Hermione was slightly staggered by his question, and completely suspicious of his modesty.

"I did," she admitted. "How did you know, and why does it matter?"

"It's all over the school," Harry said, helping himself to a turkey sandwich and completely usurping the bowl of celery sticks and baby carrots. "We've heard all sorts of rumors."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Colin even took a picture on his way back to the bloodsheds," Ron said, speaking of the supply shacks aptly nicknamed by the students of the late 1800's, forced to battle dragons and wrestle bogles for their version of 'Games'. "Said it was for 'house unity' or some rot, but I bet he took it for his Lovely Luna so that she could write a no doubt glorifying article for her father's bloody magazine. You watch, Hermione, soon half the wizarding world will think you're all friends with Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her muffin, uninterested.

"So?" she asked. Both boys' heads snapped up and in her direction, forgetting about whatever it was they were trying to hide, but Hermione refrained from focusing her gaze anywhere but the jelly jar and muffin tin. "It's your fault anyway, in truth. If you hadn't gotten him kicked out of fencing he wouldn't even have been there. I was just being nice. He wanted to play, I saw no harm in it."

"Do you want to know why he got kicked out?" Ron asked threateningly, and Hermione lifted her eyes, heightening an eyebrow questioningly.

"Why?"


Simultaneously, Harry and Ron shook the hair from their faces in exactly the same flick of the neck, displaying two identical, round purple dots pressed into their foreheads that shared the exact shape and diameter of a fencing foil. Ron's was directly in the center, while Harry's appeared slightly off to the side so as not to lose its glory while hidden within his scar. Hermione felt herself slightly smirk while Harry pointed a carrot at the mar in his flesh.

"Malfoy."

"Honestly, you're both such children when it comes to this. Malfoy too, as a matter of fact. It'd do you well to grow up a bit," Hermione said, shaking her head and chuckling softly to herself. Harry and Ron shared a look, clearly taking offense in her amusement of their situation. They turned back to her with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"You think this is funny, do you?" Harry asked, smoothing his disheveled hair over his forehead to the best of his ability.

"Children are we?" Ron added. Hermione frowned, though she couldn't pinpoint what she had done wrong.

"I..."

"You think we need you to be our mother, Hermione? I've got one at home and she's enough for one lifetime, thank you," Ron continued, rolling his eyes at the thought, and Harry nodded.

"And don't even play the 'you can't do your homework without me' card, because I assure you, we are not idiots," he added. Hermione gaped, while Ron picked up where Harry left off.

"Yeah! We're just lazy. We'll show you!"

He stood up to leave and Harry followed suit, bringing with him his sacred bowl of vegetables, and together they stalked from the room, bursting through the doors and leaving Hermione to puzzle endlessly what had happened.

"Wait! I... it wasn't... I didn't mean... what?"

-x-

Once outside the great hall, Harry and Ron lost their stern looks of anger for favor of countenances washed with relief.

"Do you really think this'll work, Harry?" Ron asked unsurely and his raven-haired friend shrugged.

"Might. Great show, we put on. Couldn't have gone better. Now we'll just have to wait and see what happens. Jealousy is a tricky thing."

"But do you really think she'll be jealous just because we're mad at her? That's a bit of a stretch, especially for Hermione. She's more apt just to be angry back," Ron pointed out and Harry nodded.

"That's where Ginny and Aly come in. We'll recruit them to instill feelings of guilt and encourage a makeup between us. It's a perfect plan, Ron."

"Oh," he said softly, beginning to follow Harry as he made his way toward the common room. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry answered through a mouthful of carrots and celery.

"Shouldn't we have told them that first, before we severed ties with Hermione?" Ron asked and Harry stopped mid-step and mid-chew.

"I knew there was something..."

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A/N: There's another chapter! No classes or anything of the sort, but Harry and Ron's plan is just as important, in my opinion. I really liked this chapter, even though it had very little to do with anything. I titled it Proverbial Bloodshed of course, because of the qoq "bloodshed" as well as the fact that they were fighting, which is like war, which is synonymous with bloodshed. It's all a very complicated process. :oD