TTB: In the Hospital Wing

Author's Note: I have this file of drabbles that I did ages ago and never put up here so I'm doing it now. Here we go. Again.

Summary: Hermione and Draco. In the hospital wing. Because Harry and Ron got some shocks. And Hermione feels guilty. Maybe.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I wouldn't make Draco lose his hair.

Hermione walked into the Hospital Wing, Draco reluctantly trailing behind her, anchored by their interlaced fingers.

"Must we attend to this?" he whispered.

She rolled her eyes and made her way to the windows where Ron and Harry occupied sterile white beds, blank expressions settled on their pale faces, Ron's freckles and Harry's scar both made all the more vivid by contrast.

"Must we?" he echoed again, a bit more loudly.

She gave a long suffering sigh, a sound much practiced for every scrape her silly Gryffindor boys got into, which now found its use for all the silly things her Slytherin boy said. With a whispered charm, she levitated a cushy chair over and nudged him into it, promptly making a home of his lap.

"Well?" he said, his voice wavering on a slight whine even as his arms went around her and his face nudged into her riotous curls.

She cuddled into his embrace like a kitten and nodded. "Yes Malfoy we must." Her chilled nose nuzzled his cheek, which was far warmer than its pallid demeanor would hint at, and he shivered slightly but made no move to pull away.

"Why must we?" he asked, his tone smoky dark and suggestive, as if offering the possibilities of things they could have been doing instead. She pulled back a little, her dark, liquid honey eyes searching his own mercurial grey eyes. Then she ducked her head, her teeth catching on his earlobe lightly, the tip of her tongue flicking against the captive flesh. He shuddered.

"We must," she whispered in his ear as her fingers dug firmly into the tensed muscles of his shoulder, "because I was mean to poor Ron and Harry. I do owe them an explanation."

"It's just Potty and Weasel," he said with no conviction, his eyelids lowering as he rolled his shoulder in response to her more than welcome touch.

"Malfoy," she uttered, the name a culmination of affection, frustration and warning and he nodded a bit. A smile touched her lips and ran all the way into her eyes, making them glow in the sparse candlelight. She rubbed her nose lightly just under his ear and whispered another word as a promise, "Later."

He grinned and pulled her closer against him, tighter into his arms, an easy possession that she allowed as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

Harry Potter's head was throbbing. In fact it felt like a thousand Hippogriffs had trampled over it in a haste to... well, do whatever it is Hippogriffs do. He made a half hearted mental note to ask Hermione just what it was that might be. Lifting a hand that was still boyishly slim but growing into its strength, he rubbed his forehead, blinking repeatedly as he tried to get his bearings.

"Ron," he called and received a grunt in response. Tilting his head, he found the redhead on the opposite bed and repeated himself, a touch louder this time. Ron did not seem too pleased as he peeked open his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible. "I had the worst dream," Harry continued doggedly. Ron muttered something that Harry took for interest. "You were there and Hermione was there and she was kissing Draco Malfoy." As he spoke his eyes wavered over the room and hit on the very sight that made a lie of his supposition - Hermione curled up in Malfoy's arms. "Oh. So it wasn't a dream then." Ron looked over.

THUNK. THUNK.

Hermione jerked from her sleep to find Ron and Harry lying pronely on the pale stone of the floor completely and utterly unconscious. Again. "Oops."