Once Upon a Time During SEX:
"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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Chapter Six: Ostensible
Hermione stepped confidently up to Draco's door and rapped harshly against it with a closed fist.
"Malfoy," she called somewhat sadly, knocking again. "We have to finish reading those essays." There was a pregnant pause and no response. Hermione knocked again, sighing in exasperation. "Malfoy! I know you're in there! Draco, come on, don't make me do everything myself." The hardwood door swung open so quickly that Hermione took a step back in alarm. "Oh..." The tall brunet in the doorway, dressed in Slytherin robes, lifted a caramel tinted eyebrow and dragged his olive eyes up and down her figure. She regarded him warily and turned her eyes to Draco, who was coming up to the side of his guest. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had... company." Draco shrugged, but the brunet smirked.
"Oh, you're no interruption, Granger. Just having a bit of pillow-talk; listening to light jazz and doing our nails, that sort of thing. You're welcome to join us. You know, you'd look pretty good in drag," he said smartly, and Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a sideways glare.
"Oh, shuttup, Clint. I thought I told you to shove off?" Draco interrupted, giving his friend a good hard shove, which ultimately sent him closer to Hermione and she quickly took a step away.
"Right, love. I'll see you in the morning, then?" Clint asked his host before wagging his eyebrows at Hermione, who took the opportunity to look disgusted. Draco smiled acerbically.
"It's a date," he agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm. Clint grinned and took a step closer, but Draco lifted his hand to keep him at a safe distance. "If you even pretend to try to kiss me, I swear to all spiritual entities that I will shove my broomstick so far up your ass, you'll be tasting gerbils for a week."
"Mmm, you should know better than to tease me like that, Drakey," Clint piped in retaliation, but the heated glare he received from the head boy was enough to quell his inclination to jest. "I'll just be showing myself out, then." He quipped and made haste to breach the threshold of the common room portrait. Draco dropped his arms, shaking his head, and started for the fireside couch. Hermione followed, keeping a sour scowl on her face.
"I don't much like your friends, Malfoy."
"Coincidently, I don't much like yours either. Imagine that," he said, smiling as he sat down on the middle cushion.
"Are you dating him?" she blurted, then quickly covered her mouth, surprised at her callousness. Draco laughed.
"And that would be a no, Granger; I don't catch left-handed. I'm tutoring him; French," he said, watching as she hid her blush and sat cross legged on the floor. Hermione relaxed as much as possible, deciding it best to pretend her slip up had never happened.
"Why French?"
"His parents are very old fashioned; he's turning sixteen and he's got to go through this big, old-country French wizarding ceremony to receive his family's permission to be considered an adult. It's rarely done anymore. A big, long, boring gig; he has to read for about an hour out of this French book, and he can't speak French. Evidently, there's a questioning after the reading, so he has to comprehend whatever it is they're feeding him in order to pass. It's a disgrace to his family if he doesn't. I can't speak it well, but I can read it, so I thought I'd help him out."
"Sixth year, then?" she asked, recalling a boy she'd mistakenly believed to be Clive Zimmerman. Draco nodded.
"Zimmy'll be a man after Christmas holiday."
"Is he...?" Hermione started, frowning at her difficulty in composing her thought. Draco smirked.
"A sausage jockey? Honestly, I've no idea. I don't rightly think so, but you never really know with a guy like Clint. He's not allowed to date, with this whole not-yet-a-man business, but I imagine he'll take it up after the ceremony. We'll find out then, shall we?"
"Are all your acquaintances so complicated?" she asked amusedly, and Draco shrugged.
"Isn't everyone?" he countered wittingly, and Hermione's smile fell into a little frown as she thought of her own acquaintances and their strange behavior. "Was there a reason you called me out here?" Draco added after a pause. "We almost had a breakthrough in irregular conjugations." Hermione shook herself of her self-depressing thoughts and straightened.
"Oh," she said. "Right. I was thinking of reading the rest of those essays for Sunday night and I thought you might want to join me, but if you've other obligations, I can do them alone."
"And leave me out of all the fun? Hardly," he said, sounding almost excited to be included in the event, and summoned the scrolls from her room with a freshly produced wand. Hermione watched as they levitated toward her and lifted an eyebrow at her flatmate as all but one drifted to the floor at her side and the other made its way directly into Draco's waiting hands.
"I'm not sure if I like that, Malfoy," she said, smirking playfully. "Think of all the other things you could summon from my room."
"Humble, aren't you, Granger?" he asked, mocking her playful tone, and Hermione gave a slight shrug as she chose a paper from the pile. "If I may," Draco started as he opened his scroll and made a show of beginning to read the essay within. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Hermione paused her reading of a particularly accurate and uneventful essay to look up in confusion.
"I don't think so," she admitted, recounting her plans for the evening. "Am I? What?" Draco gave half a shrug.
"You're never... here on Thursday nights. I assumed you were out late with the Gryffindor, there being no classes until after lunch tomorrow."
"Oh," Hermione said, frowning and turning her eyes back to her draft. "Nope. I'm free." She tilted her head. "Trying to be rid of me, are you?" Draco smiled.
"Thought I'd ask; wouldn't want an angry Gryffindor breaking down our door and accusing me of dissuading you in some way."
"That definitely isn't going to happen," Hermione informed, slouching softly and moving to lean against the sofa. Draco lifted an eyebrow.
"Oh, really? What's the trouble, mon bonbon? Tell Dr. Draco all about it," he said in mock-concern, paying an overenthusiastic amount of attention. Hermione smiled.
"Harry and Ron are in a mood. I'm sure they'll get over it eventually," she said, turning again to her scroll.
"Ah," Draco said, nodding his head as if thinking. "I see. It seems my work is done here; you've worked out your problem all on your own. I'll expect my money up front, mind you." Hermione laughed.
"Actually, Draco..."
"That's Dr. Draco. Or, Draco M.D., if you prefer."
"Yes, well, I'll have to see some sort of degree before we get into all that..." Hermione jested, smirking wildly. "Doc, I have to admit that you're the problem. They're mad at me because I let you play with us in Games on Monday. Evidently, I've committed some sort of treason. I place all blame on you." Draco paused for a moment.
"That'll be an extra 15% added to your bill," he stated seriously and Hermione laughed, shaking her head and making a little notation in the corner of her current reading selection before moving on to another.
"I'm not at all worried about it," she said convincingly. "I'm just a bit lonely. And I hate being lonely."
"So you've chosen me as your savior, have you?" Draco asked suggestively, moving to occupy her uncluttered side on the plush carpet. Hermione chortled.
"If it helps you sleep at night," she said, relaxing against the back of the couch. "Look; Arnie Karol assures that the number one, most important rule regarding sex is that, if you've burdened yourself with an unwanted horn, and you've let it progress to some proper violet plums, it is imperative to immediately immerse yourself in a bath of tomato paste and garlic. It'd do well of you to remember that, Malfoy; in case Zimmy doesn't come through." Draco chuckled.
"I've always preferred a good thrap to a... bowl of bullock soup," he admitted as if it were tactful and refined, ignoring the twist in Hermione's face. "That is, unless I have a good cook."
"You're very charming. Really," Hermione said mordantly, banishing Arnie Karol's scroll.
"Or so I've been told," he said with a smirk. "Pass me another?"
"Get it yourself," she shot, attempting to sound icy and succeeding only in coquettish obstinacy. Lifting an eyebrow and looking almost impressed, Draco reached over her to the pile of scrolls, and took his time in selecting the most painfully short. Hermione pressed herself into the couch, trying to retain as much of her personal space as possible, but Draco was on to her hard-to-get routine and purposely pressed closer. When he pulled back, scroll in hand, Hermione graced him not with her attention. She folded her legs to sit sideways, facing the pile of scrolls, and rested a bent elbow against the couch cushion as she read. Draco, keen to her signals, sat in satisfied silence as he read through his essay. The tranquility of the room was disrupted after a few minutes, broken by chortles from the blond head boy. Hermione couldn't help but to peer over her shoulder. "What?"
"Granger, will you assist me in an experiment? Solely for the sake of science, I assure you," he asked slyly, a mischievous note in his voice. Hermione lifted her eyebrow warily.
"What're you going to do, Malfoy?" she asked him incredulously, making herself aware of his every move. He smirked.
"Nothing invasive, I promise. Just, turn. Face that way," he said, placing his scroll on the ground and gesturing in the direction that he wished her to turn. Hermione, though suspicious, did as requested, setting down her scroll and straightening, turning her face away from him. She was alert and conscious of his movements, waiting to feel something grotesque; a hand on her chest, or a squeeze of her bum. When she felt his hands, they were on her upper back, fingers marking small spots above her shoulder blades. She realized that she felt nervous, a little rustle of butterflies in her stomach, as if he were to be her first lover. She bit her lip and tried to push the feeling away. Draco, who felt the spike in her heart rhythm, paused a moment before lifting one hand from her back again, using it to brush the flow of hair over her shoulder, and exposing her neck. When she felt his lips against her skin, Hermione tensed and pushed him away.
"Malfoy," she scolded, surprised at him, but he merely smirked.
"Science, Hermione, science. Think of me as some dashing, debonair stranger," he coached and, releasing a shuddering breath, Hermione turned and again staked her requested position, facing away and leaving herself vulnerable to his attacks. Draco resumed slowly, placing his palms against her shoulder blades and pressing moist lips to her neck. Hermione was stiff and still, chewing her lip as she willed the butterflies to leave her.
As he marked tiny kisses into her shoulder, Draco's hands made a slow and easy trip down her back, coming to a stop in the little dip that marked her small. Hermione, attention focused on the series of kisses, did not notice this until Draco pressed a thumb between the bones of her spine and allowed his other to make a spiral path back up the length of her back. Taken by surprise, she straightened with a soft gasp and arched her back against his treatment. Draco stopped his markings, which had only been meant to distract her, and followed the exact directions of the student's paper, watching as Hermione melted in his hands. Thank you, Ian Whitcomb.
As his right thumb moved closer to her shoulders, Draco pressed his left deeper into her back. She squirmed more persistently with each vertebra passed and little breathy sighs began to periodically escape from her lips.
Just as Draco's inclining hand contacted the point at which Hermione could reach over her shoulder and have impeded its progress, Draco stopped, releasing her from his mesmeric hold, and Hermione shuddered at the loss of touch, relaxing slightly. The head boy traced her upper arms with his finger tips, up and down each three times, as per recipe, before making a sudden move to press both thumbs into the back of her neck. Hermione straightened once again, completely enthralled with his touch, and enjoyed immensely as he massaged the taught muscles of her neck.
At some point not in Hermione's recollection, the boy with hands blessed by the gods moved from her rear to directly in front of her, continuing his massage over her shoulders and up the sides of her neck. When his thumbs reached the pulse points below her jaw, Hermione mechanically pitched forward and connected their lips in a hypnotic kiss, to which she was reciprocated.
They parted gently and he failed to release her from his placid hold.
"Draco," Hermione whispered softly, opening her eyes for the first time since feeling his hands behind her hips. Draco followed her example casually, as if being interrupted while trying to sleep. "Was that... supposed to happen?" He exhaled a breath she hadn't known him to be holding.
"...No," he admitted softly and Hermione blinked, swallowing.
"What... was supposed to happen?"
Draco's hands melted from her slender neck.
"Pretty much everything you did... except that."
"Oh," Hermione said and a steady blush crept into her cheeks. "I... erm..." She laughed uncomfortably. "Awkward situation. Time to make a hasty exit." She pushed herself onto her feet and started quickly toward her room, leaving Draco alone in the middle of their common carpet.
"Wait," he called after a moment and Hermione stopped, hands pressed to her burning cheeks, but refused to turn back. "What about the essays?"
"Tomorrow morning," she suggested, starting to walk again. Draco's voice halted her a second time.
"I have a date tomorrow morning."
At this, Hermione spun, stomping back toward the couch without thought of her rouge.
"You have a girlfriend too? Hell, Malfoy! As if I don't feel bad enough already! Fuck! I'm a bloody mistress now!" she cursed, falling into a panic. Draco stood from his kneeling position on the floor and took a step toward her, confused.
"Whoa, Granger. Shuttup a minute so I can talk to you," he said, waving a hand in front of her face. Hermione sighed, allowing her entire body to fall slack and forming a pout with her lips. Draco sighed and shook his head, as if to clear it. "I've a date with Clint tomorrow morning. Remember?"
"Oh," she breathed and smiled nervously. "Right. Good luck with that. I'll finish them on my own... and if I don't, who's to know? Right?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, regarding her amusedly. Hermione swallowed. "Well. Late... should sleep so I can... homework." She paused, aware that her mouth was incredibly dry. "'Night, then, Malfoy," she said, giving him a curt nod, and made a hasty retreat to her room. Draco watched as she closed the door behind her, and returned to the couch, locating the scroll of a Mr. Whitcomb and marking a large red 'F' just below the neatly printed text. To hell with the boy if he thought the assignment graded.
-x- -x- -x-
"Harry, what do you want?" Ginny moaned in exasperation, allowing her boyfriend to lead her to the Gryffindor common room couch. Harry sighed, looking slightly worried and self-conscious about the sticking plaster which covered his fencing bruise. Pomfrey had assured him she had no time for such petty matters and wordlessly went about treating a first year that had been caught between a pillar and a bludger
"Can't you wait a minute? I'll tell you when Ron gets back with Aly."
"Why's he gone to get her again?" she asked, smoothing her skirt and bringing her legs to curl beneath her. Harry gave her a crooked smile.
"Come on, Gin. You know they've got a proper mutual fancy. What's that look? Are you jealous? Think she's going to steal him away from you?" he teased, prodding her gently in the side, and Ginny gave him a sideways glare.
"Hardly. I'm actually in a bit of a guilt, as it is. I feel I should warn the poor girl," she countered, watching a smirk form on Harry's face.
"You're something else, you know that?" he asked, amused, and Ginny lifted a challenging eyebrow.
"Want to make something of it?" she suggested, but any reply was interrupted by the entrance of a very flustered couple. "Ron!" Ginny exclaimed before she could stop herself, surprised at his appearance, and Ron smiled guiltily.
"Took you long enough," Harry added, pretending as if he hadn't noticed the rumpled state of his best friend. Ron blushed to the tips of his ears, and Aly smirked, latching her arms around one of his.
"Yeah, well," Ron said, smiling crookedly. "We got a little... side tracked."
"Spare me," Ginny said bitterly, pushing her boyfriend over and making room for another beside her. "Here, Aly. You sit here... by me." Ron, obviously disappointed, turned to his blonde companion with a puckered bottom lip. She smiled softly and turned back to Ginny.
"Actually, I think I'll sit..."
"No. You won't," Ginny countered, ignoring the glare she received from Ron, and stared persistently at Aly, who indiscreetly squeezed Ron's hand before agreeing and taking a seat by his sister. Ron, now with a perpetual glare centered directly on the youngest of his siblings, threw himself into a large armchair, unable to shake the feeling that it felt lonely.
"So," Harry began, cutting into the awkward situation. All eyes immediately focused themselves on him. "About what we have to tell you. Well, ask you rather." Ginny lifted an eyebrow, but Aly sat meekly, as if frightened to share any opinion, and kept her lips buttoned, though she too was curious of Harry's intention.
"Go on," Ginny urged, and Harry sighed, looking to Ron for assistance, but he was occupied by switching his gaze from exponentially angry when looking upon Ginny, to soft and full of condolence for Aly.
"Right, well, we've told you our plan to keep Hermione from being so distant..."
"Yes..."
"Well, we need to enlist your help for the next step," he said simply, then paused. "Or rather... the rest of the next step."
"Harry," Aly ventured softly, and jumped as Ginny turned her amber eyes toward her. "Um, what did you do?"
"Well," Harry began. "It's a bit complicated."
"We posed a falling out. Got her right confused, accusing and all that," Ron answered for him, and Harry gave him pleading look.
"Harry!" Ginny said, slapping his arm. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's about the opposite of what you planned to do." He brandished a guilty grin.
"That's sort of why we need your help," he said, approaching the situation carefully. Ginny lifted an eyebrow, motioning him to continue. "Really, the plan was to make her feel guilty and realize how much we meant to her... but now we've reason to believe that that won't work out on its own." Ginny looked impatient, and Aly too was beginning to seem suspicious.
"And...?" the sixth year prodded.
"And..." Harry answered. "We want you to... help it along a bit. Put in a good word; don't make it look like we don't need her, or that we're miserable... but say it isn't the same. Make her want to come back." A long silence followed Harry's explanation, punctuated only by the noise of the various other Gryffindor which occupied the room. Aly was, unexpectedly, the first to speak up.
"I won't do it," she said, convincingly. Three sets of eyes snapped toward her. "I won't help you trick your best friend into being miserable and running back when she didn't do anything. You're hung up on the pretense that she's friends with Malfoy. I was there on Monday. I saw them together. They act like any two of us would. Harry, does it bother you that I'm spending time with Ron? Do I threaten your friendship?" Harry sat, wordless and gaping like a fish, unable to compose a coherent response.
"Aly..." Ron added, but his only reward was the disappointed gaze of his tentative girlfriend.
"Ron, does it bother you that Harry is dating your sister? Does she threaten your friendship?"
"No, of course not. None of that is true," he said, shaking his fiery head, and Aly gave a stern nod.
"Exactly. What makes Hermione and Malfoy any different? Just leave her be and let her be happy," she suggested, shaking her head as she rose from the couch. Ron was up in a moment, walking after her, chiming his apologies. Harry waited until they had breached the portrait threshold and the door had closed behind them before he relaxed into the sofa.
"Huh," he said, sounding in the aftershock of surprise. "I hadn't expected that." Ginny turned her eyes, still hard in their glare, on to his pensive face. In one fluent motion, she reached out and ripped the plaster from his forehead, causing Harry to call out in both surprise and pain. Ginny stood, throwing the little plastic bandage on the ground below him.
"She's right, Harry," she told him sternly before making the trip around the couch and disappearing up the girls' staircase. Harry rubbed his head gently, picking the sticker from the carpet with a sigh.
"Hadn't expected that either."
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A/N: Hey everyone, I know it's been a while. I spent almost a week just rereading LGG... trying to find what you guys see in it ;oD that sort of thing. Lol. I hope to be getting back to my regular schedule of one story update a week, but I make no promises. I've got finals coming up, and lord knows I need the review. Review if you are so inclined.