Once Upon a Time During SEX:

Hermione missed the catch. She, in her reverie, had searched out Clint in the large crowd of Slytherin and was begging for eye contact, when the entire box stood up. It was only when Ginny shouted "Dammit, Harry!" that Hermione's eyes flashed to her Raven-haired best friend and she watched as he hung his head in shame and descended slowly to the ground. The realization that Slytherin had won registered in her mind, and she looked desperately for Draco, quelling the excitement she felt at the victory. He was easy enough to spot, shooting to the ground at a much faster pace than Harry had. Draco came to a stop beside Madam Hooch and deposited the little gold ball into her hand, before dismounting his broom and stalking toward the gates. The Slytherin team followed to congratulate him, but Draco stopped them with a cold glare and continued on his way- alone.

And, in the scarlet section of the stadium, the one Gryffindor who had had been smiling frowned deeply in sheer disappointment.

Chapter Eleven: What You Miss When Making Assumptions

Draco had not returned to the common room until much later than Hermione could force herself to stay up. She had contemplated waiting for him in the common room, but feared the conversation that would accompany his arrival would be awkward and sadly went to bed at a quarter past midnight.

Unlike the other students, Draco had no reason not to stay out. If he were caught by anyone, student or teacher alike, he could claim to be making rounds and easily get himself off the hook. After the Quidditch match he had stormed into the showers and sat naked on the tile floor for well into three hours. It was only when the water started to seem too cold that he shut it off and got dressed; evidently there was only a finite amount of hot water in the entire castle. As he was walking past the girls' prefect bathroom, he heard the very familiar voice of Hermione Granger shout "That's fucking cold!" and, despite his feelings toward her at that point in time, he had to smile at her dirty language.

After drying in the castle hallways and shooting glares at anyone he came across to avoid confrontation, Draco ventured again outside to continue to shower. It was still raining heavily and he quickly caught a chill. Using his inlaid 'better judgment', he sought refuge amongst the Venus fly traps in greenhouse number three. As it was Saturday afternoon, there were no Herbology classes in session and there wouldn't be for well over twenty-four hours. Consequently of the rain, no students seeking extra credit would be found there either and Draco was happy for the solace. He'd never much liked the greenhouses, but he thanked them now for their hospitality.

As night approached and his stomach began to growl, Draco stole the berries from a plant that he wouldn't have been able to identify if the name had not been printed on its pot. It was only after digesting these tiny, lemon-like fruits that he realized the pot may have been mislabeled. He hoped with only mild worry that Professor Sprout had not planted something dangerous in a pot labeled "Bogeybean tree".

In truth, Draco had no idea why he wanted to be away from everyone. He'd been unimaginably upset after his run-in with Hermione and Clint in the hallway, but had convinced himself that winning the Quidditch match would make him feel right again. Unfortunately, it accomplished little other than making Potter furious. Word in the hallway was that Hermione had tried to defend his win and talk Harry into granting him a 'good game', but Potter refused to get off his soap box and proceeded to complain to the entire hall that Slytherin had won because they had had the pitch longer than the Gryffindor. Hermione had dismissed him at that point and Draco couldn't help but to feel smug at the knowledge.

A lot of the time in the greenhouse was spent thinking about Hermione. It had started, really, with thoughts about Neville Longbottom, who had been the only Gryffindor not to need sex ed and who also happened to love both the greenhouses and Herbology. This then led to the memory of the chocolates and a strange irrational curiosity about their origin. The jealousy inside Draco was infamous for making something out of nothing and this was no exception; by the end of an hour he had convinced himself that the chocolates had come from Clint as a declaration of love and his anger toward his best mate returned to him ten-fold.

He didn't understand what had gone so terribly wrong. He wanted Granger to notice him so badly that he sometimes wondered if she'd put some sort of spell on him. Ever since the start of term when the Head position had been thrown at him and Hermione had fallen into his life and onto his couch, something had started to grow in his stomach. At first, he'd thought he might have had an ulcer or something equally serious, but Pomfrey had laughed at him when he'd explained his symptoms and asked if he was dating anyone. Needless to say, this was very disturbing and Draco had since tried his best to avoid the hospital at all costs.

Hermione, contrary to his belief at the time of the arrival of his pre-term letter, was very excited to be spending the entire term in his dormitory. This seemed rather unfounded to Draco, who was well aware that he had been an absolute arse to her in the past. Really, since second or third year he hadn't thought about her much. There were certain times when she caught his eye; the Yule Ball in forth year, the DA in fifth; but for the most part he'd spent all allotted Gryffindor thoughts on hating Harry Potter. She was just this little thing that bit him when he wasn't looking.

But then he'd gotten the letter, and had started thinking. He concocted a few plans to make her life a little rotten and still get a laugh, but he'd never gone through with any of them. He had left partway into the feast to find the common room (to which he had been given directions in the infamous Hogwarts letter) and had just about made himself comfortable when she came bounding in, skipping in excitement. At first she hadn't seemed to notice him; she squealed in excitement and made twirling laps around the room to take in its splendor, or lack thereof. Really, there wasn't much to look at—but you'd think, by her antics, they'd given her a palace. Draco had stood in the middle of the room with an eyebrow raised, watching as she danced in circles around him.

"Oh, Malfoy, isn't this amazing?" she had said, finally halting her spinning and facing him with a broad smile. Draco smirked.

"Which part; the dust mites or the water stains?" She pouted comically for a moment, but couldn't force herself to keep a long face and reattached her grin.

"Oh, I was on the edge of my seat all through dinner!" she professed, falling down on the couch and grabbing a throw pillow to squeeze the life out of. "I just couldn't wait! How did you get here so fast?" Draco was blank for a moment.

"I skipped half of dinner."

Hermione pressed a fingertip to her chin.

"I'd never have thought of that..." she said, then waved it away. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun! How can you not be excited?"

It had gone on that way for hours. The next morning she was decidedly less excitable, but just as chipper as ever. When asked why she wasn't cursing the gods for being stuck with Malfoy, she would always insist that she really didn't know him and therefore had no reason to dislike his company.

The odd feeling in his stomach (which he was convinced was an ulcer; screw Pomfrey and all her medical mumbo-jumbo) had only deepened in the months following this. Hermione had become more at home in the dormitory than Draco would have ever thought possible; he'd more than once seen her sorting her laundry in the middle of the commons! This was practical in that the house-elves packaged his garments with hers and she needed to separate them, but to do so right in front of him, with her delicates on top! He'd once caught her wearing his shirt and, despite his efforts to be angry, never made any attempt to get it back. If she ever wore it again, it was when he wasn't looking. She did wash it quite frequently, though, and he'd always place it in her pile when it was his turn to sort the wash.

Their relationship had blossomed from almost un-acquaintances to teasing almost-friends. Their playful, almost flirtatious, bantering was infamous in the hallways and some of the more public debates had been transcribed and printed in flyer-form for the whole school. Luna Lovegood had taken to doing so from time to time, getting stories from the Patil twins and pictures from her boyfriend, Colin Creevey. It was for this reason that the testosterone driven members of the golden trio had been so concerned about the Games picture of inter-house badminton.

As the year wore on, Draco began to realize that his ulcer wasn't exactly what he'd thought it was. He was still convinced it was an ulcer, of course- but the reality of where it had come from was too obvious to ignore. Because he was his very best friend, Draco had confided his predicament to Clint. He had expected a great bout of laughter, but had only been met with a pat on the back. Draco and Clint had known one another for many years, and Clint was well aware of the change that must have occurred in Draco for such a thought to even permeate his mind (much less seed itself there and grow a tree from his ear). He promised to keep the relationship a secret and, to do so, Clint vowed not to get to know Hermione too well. Draco feared that if he did, she might suspect something and he was not ready for that. Then, she had caught them in the middle of a session and the entire plan had been flipped upside down. Clint had gotten to know Hermione better than Draco would have liked and, worst than his original fear of being found out, Clint had attempted to take his girl.

Draco knew that his friend had never meant for it to happen and their history together would not allow him to let a bird get between them, no matter how intelligently she bantered with him and how adorable her mannerisms seemed. He supposed it was for this reason that he had to stay away. He knew that in this state, he might say something he didn't mean and successfully lose his friend. He also did not want to face Hermione. Really, she had done nothing wrong—but he was still angry with her. He couldn't snap out of it and it seemed best to ignore her until he could regain his footing and start feeling normal again.

When he strolled into the common room at forty-five minutes past the break of Sunday, he was surprised to see the tell tale signs of Hermione in the common room. She was gone, but a throw was dripping off the couch and into a pile on the floor, her books were strewn about and open, and the candle wax looked almost soft. Draco frowned slightly at the knowledge that she had been waiting up for him and braved a peak through the door of her room. She was curled up in bed, hugging a pillow as if her life depended on it. The look on her face, which was able to be seen quite clearly from the doorway, seemed troubled, and Draco felt guilty although he had no way to tell if this was in any way his fault. With a sigh, he left her room for favor of his own, then dried and dressed before falling into bed.

When Draco woke up, it was well past lunch. In fact, he had reason to believe that his stomach was the only reason he'd risen in the first place. He put on a sparse amount of clothing and left his room with a hungry vengeance. He stopped, however, when he reached the commons. There was an entire tray of delectables on the table, no doubt prepared by a house elf, and a note beside it. It read to him congratulations on his victory the previous day and was signed with flourish from Hermione. He knew from her signature on important papers that she always signed things "Hermione M. Granger, H.G." in a professional typeface which ended with a triple loop. This letter, however, was signed just Hermione, and done so with elegance and style. Deciding to ignore her quirks and allow her to fill his stomach instead of his mind, Draco dug into the breakfast pastries and selected luncheon specials with ardor.

xxx

Hermione decided (upon hearing of Draco's behavior following the Quidditch match) that it would be in her best interest to leave him to himself for a few hours. She'd have preferred a few days, but the class that night would force her to settle otherwise. Hermione tried to spend some time with Harry and Ron, but they were purely obnoxious in their complaining about the game, so she left Aly and Ginny to be tortured alone and ventured to the safe-haven of the library. This plan of action was quickly abandoned when Clint made an appearance in the foreign language section. He smiled pleasantly at her when he noticed her staring and Hermione blushed slightly before turning back to her book. He checked out at the front desk, beneath piercing glares from Madam Pince, and left all within ten minutes of entering, but the entire episode made it impossible for Hermione to concentrate. She packed her things and left to meander in the halls with a head heavy with thoughts.

Although no one thing could be considered enough to make her extremely upset, Hermione started crying as she trailed her way around the school. She tried to stay clear of busy routes, but still earned herself a few concerned looks. She had been known all through her adolescence to wait until too many small things added up, only to then fall into bouts of tears for seemingly no reason. Clint had rejected her (albeit softly), Draco seemed to be ignoring her, Harry and Ron were complete arses about their lose and seemed to be blaming her for their lack of time on the pitch, and to top it off she had to spend a few grueling hours at the mercy of three dozen seventh years whom expected lectures on the functions of the labia and clitoris.

She sank to the ground just a few corridors from the common room and spent fifteen minutes pouring her heart into the sleeve of her sweater.

When she felt a little stress had been relieved, Hermione stood from her bath of misery and made the short trek to the common room. When she entered, she immediately laughed out loud and wiped at her eyes; Draco was standing on one foot in the middle of the common room, evidently trying to play hacky-sack by himself, with a banana. He hopped around (as he was balancing the banana on the other foot) to face her with a brilliant smile on his face. It dropped when he saw the redness around her eyes and he ignored the grin that marred her cheeks.

"Are you all right?" he asked, but Hermione shook her shoulders.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked in amusement, dropping her bag near the doorway and making herself comfortable on the common room couch. Seeing that his antics seemed to remedy whatever pain she had so recently experienced, Draco decided to delay his concern long enough to show her the skill he had been working so hard to acquire.

"Watch," he instructed, and balanced himself- eyes on the banana. In one fluent motion, he kicked the yellow fruit high in the air and hopped on to his opposite foot just in time to kick it again as it came back down. He went back and forth in this way for about six consecutive kicks before the banana exploded on impact and squirted its bruised juices across the throw rug. Hermione hid her laughter behind her hand and clapped in approval as Draco took a corny, one-legged bow. He used his wand to restore the banana to an edible condition, then sat on the couch beside Hermione.

As he watched her hide her face from the laughter, Draco had difficulty remembering why he had decided to stay away from her. Clint or no-Clint, he loved her company. Hermione finished her moment of intense amusement and dropped her hands into her lap, looking slyly at Draco from the side of her eye. He smiled.

"Thanks for lunch," he said, to nurture the light-hearted atmosphere.

"You deserved it. Congratulations," she said.

"I heard that you stood up for me against Potter," Draco said coyly and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Harry's a twit about Quidditch," she said, her voice sounding a little strained due to the recent flood of emotion which had included Harry's idiocy. "You won fair and square and all he has to say about it is that Slytherin must have cheated." Draco frowned, because she was so suddenly crestfallen.

"What's wrong? I know it can't be your twit-friends; they're always complaining about something."

"What?" Hermione asked as if the idea were inane and planted a smile on her face. Draco stared knowingly and she sighed, falling more deeply into the couch. "It's a lot of little things. I don't know why I'm this affected. It must be some hormone thing or something; I've been like this for days."

"Little things like what?" Draco asked, ready to listen for once in his life, and changed his position on the couch, opening the banana under the pretence of ingesting it.

"Well... like, I thought you were angry with me," Hermione admitted, and Draco looked up.

"Why?" he asked, bringing the banana slowly away from his mouth. Hermione smiled softly and drew her knees to her chest.

"Well, the last time I really saw you was the other day when you found me with Clint... and you seemed angry then, and then yesterday you played brilliantly and didn't even come home. I thought you were avoiding me." Draco was struck silent for a moment and Hermione averted her eyes from his face.

"That's not... well... it's complicated- yesterday. I just wasn't feeling right, I guess. As for that spat with Clint, well..."

"You're part of that stupid oath too, aren't you?" she said, sounding spiteful and Draco looked up in alarm. "Clint told me that he was under oath not to be with me... and he said that he couldn't tell me exactly why," she said by way of explanation. Draco frowned, but nodded.

"Yeah. I'm part of the oath too," he admitted, putting the banana down on the coffee table, his appetite for it dissolved. Hermione was silent for a few moments, but then gritted her teeth and threw a throw pillow directly at the ground.

"This isn't fair!" she vented, balling her fists. Draco was surprised at her outburst.

"Hermione..."

"I hate this place!" she said and turned to him dramatically. "Pansy... and Parvarti and Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal and Willow Barrs... and almost every sixth year Ravenclaw I can think of... they all have amazingly high standards, Draco. They all want rich, influential, incredibly attractive men... and they get them. They are all courting wizarding royalty... and me? I couldn't give a damn if the man I were dating turned into a toad at night, as long as he cared for me... and what? I have nobody. It isn't fair that they can order flambé while I settle for ice tea... and then they're on their third course and I'm still bloody waiting. And now I've got people sworn to oath not to touch me? I know I'm a mudblood, but this is ridiculous. I'm not as pretty as Pansy, but I'm still a person. It's not like I have bubonic plague!" Hermione finished her session of venting and dropped her head into her hands, leaving Draco completely speechless for well over five minutes. When he finally spoke, it was less than eloquent.

"Erm... I-I'm sorry?" he asked, almost as if he were afraid she would turn on him with her ranting. Hermione laughed and looked up with a watery smile.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that, it isn't your fault. I'm just... really thirsty, you know?" she said and shook her head. "I sound so pathetic. Ignore me." Draco's brain scrambled for something to say; at this point he'd settle for anything between witty retort and declaration of love. Unfortunately, his brain was too long in processing and his moment to reenter conversation left him. Draco was almost in a daze as he watched Hermione kiss him lightly on the cheek and again wish him congratulations on his win before getting up off the couch and disappearing into her room.

"But you don't even like iced tea..." he said softly to himself.

XXX

"Granger?" Draco said softly as he gently rapped his knuckles on her door. "Hermione, are you ready?" She startled him when she appeared in the open doorway.

"Yeah," she said, shifting to save the pile of books from falling to the floor. Draco was at her service in an instant, intercepting half the pile into his own arms. Hermione smiled at him, but managed to keep her face relatively well hidden in her cargo. "Thanks." Draco returned her smile.

"Are you sure you want to go?" he asked. "If you're not feeling better, you can stay here." Hermione laughed out loud.

"And leave you to teach by yourself? You're serious?" she asked. "Draco, I haven't even told you what the lesson plan is yet!" His smile decreased by half.

"I'm lucky you're my partner," he said, holding the portrait open for her. "Or I'd be screwed."

"Oh that's not true," Hermione teased, all embarrassment from her afternoon explosion entirely evaporated. "I highly doubt they would go so far as to rape you."

"Haha," he said mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Hillarious, you are. Aren't you going to... debrief me, or something?" Hermione shrugged, adjusting her books.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just let you learn with them."

"Fine, don't tell me. It's not like I can really complain; you did all the work," he admitted, smirking smugly.

"Damn right I did, Mr. Oh-I-have-to-play-Quidditch-at-three-in-the-morning."

"Don't exaggerate," Draco said. "I absolutely never went out at three in the morning." He paused. "You'd never let me play past seven thirty." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm teaching menopause today," she said. "I figure most of them have done some studying on the basics now that their friends have 'graduated'. If they haven't come to see us about making up their essay, they aren't putting in any effort whatsoever. Therefore, being the shriveled bint that I am, I'm going to add this topic to the essay requirements."

"Ohh," Draco said, wincing in exaggerated pain. "You're evil."

"I'm practical."

"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. I still wouldn't want to be in their boots."

When they reached the Transfiguration classroom, Hermione opened the door and immediately dropped her cargo of books. Every head in the room spun at the sound, the clamor having distracted them from the spotlight in the middle of the room, where Pansy Parkinson and Morag McDougal were quite steamily snogging on an empty table. The embarrassment of drawing the entire room's attention and having caught such an unlikely couple hit Hermione with a fever and she blushed to the tips of her ears. Draco stood behind her, trying desperately to peek around his books and her form to see what was causing such a disturbance. He made himself a peak-hole just as the couple broke apart.

The two girls on the table had very different reactions to the situation at hand. Pansy gasped and covered her face with her hands, jumping off the table and taking her seat in the pretense that nothing had happened. Morag smirked wickedly at her mate, licked her lips, and slid sultrily from the desktop. She took her seat calmly as the rest of the class scrambled into their own.

"Well," Hermione said once the fire had left her face. "Good evening to the lot of you." She heard Draco snicker from behind her, but ignored him as she gathered the books she had dropped. She unloaded the cargo on the McGonagall's desk and instructed Draco to do the same. He sat down and spun in the Transfiguration teacher's chair, looking very much amused and contented in his position. "Erm... Despite the... greeting we received this evening," Hermione started, earning herself a deepened blush from Pansy and self-contented smirk from Morag. "I have an agenda and I plan to stick to it. First things first- the care-takers of our class pets did, in general, a satisfactory job. I'm assigning them next to Morag and Pansy- you may decide between yourselves which pet you'll be taking. They're wandering the castle as of yet, but I will send them to your quarters whenever they show themselves."

"You know what they say," Draco said. "Boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Next, would everyone please come up here and take a book." As the students started moving to the front of the room, Hermione directed a piece of chalk to begin writing on the blackboard. "Today's topic is briefly summarized on the front board. Each of your books has some information on this subject, some in more detail than others, and I suggest that you take the time to learn all that you can, because as of tonight, it will be required on your written exam in order to obtain a passing grade."

"Menopause! What the fizzing whizbees is this? When in my life am I ever going to need to know about menopause?" shouted one of the Hufflepuff males, who was squirming uncomfortably in his chair as if he rather had to use the loo. Hermione crossed her arms.

"Questions, comments and... complaints may be submitted on parchment into the nearest trash receptacle to be sorted and answered at our soonest possible convenience," she stated, her sarcasm instigating a riot of negative feedback from her audience. Draco, however, looked incredibly full of himself.

"Want to bring out the big guns?" he asked, almost pleadingly, and Hermione allowed herself to be easily defeated and agreed. Her blond desk-mate rubbed his hands together menacingly.

"Draco?" asked a small voice asked, distracting him from his ponderings. Pansy stood before him, the last person in line, and held her assigned text to her chest protectively. Her head was bowed in shame and the long black hair she was so famous for covered her features almost indefinitely. "May I speak with you?" Draco was somewhat suspicious to this request, and admittedly curious. He conferred with Hermione through visual contact anyway and, reading the curiosity she possessed as well, agreed.

"If you'll wait just a moment, Pansy, I believe something can be arranged. Hermione- would you like to do the honors, or shall I?"

"I'll introduce and you can do the wandwork," she decided quickly and he smirked evilly.

"Perfect."

"Attention, students," Hermione called over the commotion. The noise died down slightly and she was met with twenty or thirty pairs of blazing eyes. "It was originally thought that we would have a larger number of students than this, at this point in the course. A third teacher was chosen, for this inconvenience. Because we are now privy to his services and there is such a small number of you, Draco and I have decided that our prensence is really a pointless waste of homework time."

"Hermione decided that part," Draco noted, sharing a somewhat coquettish smile with his partner. She shook the thought of him away and continued with her speech.

"Therefore, we will now only be available at the very beginnings and ends of our sessions. This third superior will take the remaining shift."

As expected, the prospect of having a new teacher seemed to please most of the students. Only a few specific Gryffindor seemed suspicious.

"Right," Draco said, jumping up from his seat. "I'm going to need... yes, that'll do." With his wand, Draco directed one of the unoccupied student chairs to the front of the room, and spun it to face the class. At this point, most of the seventh years were very curious. He spoke some chosen Latin words and, in seconds, a slinky black snake with a head at each end of its body appeared in place of the chair he had placed there. A gasp rippled through the room and chatter immediately ceased. "Everyone, this is Persia. She is an Amphisbaena, and she will be teaching you from now until Hermione and I decide you've had enough of a lesson for the day. She loves virgins, so the lot of you should be fine. Pansy, I believe you requested a conference?"

Draco led the ebony-haired girl from the room, and Hermione trailed behind them, eyeing Persia suspiciously. One of the heads cocked itself at an angle when graced with her stare, confused as to why it was being surveyed.

Once in the hallway, Hermione shut the door behind her. Draco laughed aloud.

"Did you see that? Oh, that was brilliant."

"I thought we'd decided on a rabbit," Hermione noted sharply, crossing her arms. "I never remember discussing a snake."

"We never discussed or decided anything," Draco noted. "You left me in charge of wandwork, remember? I had free reign. Besides, this is working out much better than that fluff of a rabbit. Honestly, who's afraid of rabbits? Pansy- what's more intimidating, giant, two-headed, venom fanged serpents... or ickle pink bunnies?"

"Erm... serpents," she said, and Draco pointed to her while looking at Hermione, as if Pansy was infallible and had proven his point. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Fine," she mumbled and Draco smirked.

"Good; now that that's out of the way- Pansy, what's on your mind?" Draco asked, seating himself rather comfortably on the floor. Pansy looked suddenly very nervous, and glanced at Hermione.

"Erm," she started. "I-I was sort of hoping to talk to you... alone." Hermione, who had no trouble taking a hint, frowned at the slur against her and scanned her brain for some excuse to abandon that specific hallway.

"Maybe... I should go do that homework I've been raving about," she suggested rather lamely, and began to back away. Draco looked between the two women and seemed almost to panic.

"Hey, wait a second," he said, standing up again and stopping Hermione from her retreat. "First off, you know as well as I do that you finished every scrap of homework on Friday. Second, Hermione is your teacher too- whatever you have to explain to me can be explained just as easily to her." Pansy fidgeted nervously.

"Maybe this isn't the best time," she said, looking between the tall blond and his somewhat shorter flat-mate.

"No, this is a perfect time. What is it, Pansy?" Draco insisted, but Hermione interrupted.

"It's obviously something personal, Malfoy, you blockhead. Let the poor girl have a private conference with your oh-so-pompous-and-thick-headed self, won't you?" she said, and he turned toward her.

"Don't... undermine me! I told her you were going to stay here, and you're damn well bloody going to stay here!"

"You're not her father, Malfoy- and you're not mine either, for that matter. You really have no authority in this situation; no more than either of us women."

"Oh, so now I'm sexist, am I? Honestly, Granger, your arguments are so unfounded I'm surprised they don't float away."

"How witty of you, Malfoy. Unfortuantely, I never said you were sexist."

"You implied it."

"I did nothing of the sort."

"Enough!" Pansy interrupted, meaning to shout but sounding defeated instead. "Draco, I love you. I didn't mean to kiss Morag, it didn't mean anything... I'm not a bloody bean flicker. She made me do that! She told me she'd tell everyone I was taking money for sex! She already told Creevey and I can't get him to bloody leave me alone for five minutes..."

"Wait, wait- Pansy, why would I care what you do in your private life? Except for the fact that I'm head boy... but we've already decided that we aren't going to tell on you," Draco said and Pansy looked surprised.

"You're not?" she asked, turning to Hermione. The head girl was quite surprised, as she had been standing idly by under the impression that Pansy had forgotten that she was still an occupant of the hallway. She managed a smile before her time to respond without awkward pause had passed.

"No. You think I like just walking up to Snape and instigating conversation, if I can avoid it?" she joked, and Pansy smiled softly. Then, she turned to Draco and her smile dropped.

"Draco, I wanted you to know that so you didn't think I'd forgotten about you. I still love you," she admitted, eyes glistening with unshed tears and Hermione fancied herself invisible again. Draco, on the contrary, was very much aware of his presence in the conversation and looked extremely confused.

"Pansy... we haven't dated since, what? Third year?"

"I've been saving myself for you this whole time!" she exclaimed and Draco laughed humorlessly.

"For the sake of the class you should at this point be attending, I feel obligated to remind you that you should be saving yourself anyway..."

"Draco, I haven't even looked twice at a boy since we fell apart- I haven't kissed, I haven't touched, and I refuse to let them sit next to me! I'm waiting for you to figure out what was wrong... you said when you did, we could be together again. You promised."

"Pansy... I don't know what to tell you," he said, sounding truthfully shocked. "I... well, let's say I definitely wasn't expecting this. You've got to move on, Pans. We're the problem. We can't be just spell-o-taped and expected to work properly again. I'm sorry that you've been rationing yourself all this time- I swear I didn't know." Draco scratched his head. "All right," he decided. "This is ridiculous. Get back to class," he said and gently shoved her back into the transfiguration room. Pansy looked near tears.

"I'm not a lesbian!" she called to him as he closed the door and Draco leaned himself exhaustedly against it. Eventually, he remembered that Hermione had witnessed the entire exchange.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, meaning to talk some sense into the situation. Hermione straightened at being addressed and shook her head.

"No," she stated shortly. "No, I didn't hear a word."

A/N: Incredible sabbatical, wasn't it? I apologize. I had some fanfiction-hating-on-me problems, and a lot of not-so-free-time. But it's spring break, and I've set a goal to finish at least one chapter of every running story (maybe even FLYT) before the week is out. Oh yeah, and do all the homework I was supposed to do too. Again, I'm sorry—feel free to bitch me out, if you'd like to. And tell me how much this chapter wasn't worth a six month wait.