Draco and Hermione sat down on the railing of one of the staircases. Hermione had a book in one hand and an apple in the other. Draco just had a very teed off expression on his pale-ridden face. "Dammit, I could have had world power! Why'd you do that?" He kept growling that every now and again. Hermione simply ignored him and took a bite of her apple. Finally Draco looked up and said, "Are you going to quit eating that apple before I have to explain to you what kind of thing that has to do with clichés?"

"How could an apple possibly have anything to do with another cliché?" She asked, peeping her head up from her book. She suddenly realized that she was the 'bookworm know it all' and placed her book down very slowly. "Oh."

"Yeah." Draco snarled. "A bookworm with a book in one hand and an apple in the other. Ironic? Or pin-pointed exact cliché?" He pondered a moment. "Its like all these things are happening for a reason."

"Blame it on authors who can't come up with good plots and subplots." Hermione stated. "If we're really going to avoid clichés we've got to learn to think for ourselves."

"But we're made up." Draco pointed out. "All of this is the imagination of an author in England who spent her days in a local café writing her thoughts on spare pieces of napkins!" He picked the book up and threw it down the staircase. The book did a few spiral flips before landing hastily at the bottom. "I want to be real!"

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked. "Is THAT all you're worried about? Draco, we ARE real."

"No we're not." He pointed at her. "You're not real. I'm not real. We're all figments of a GREAT imagination. Hell, even POTTER'S not real! –Hmmm… I like that."

"Draco. Focus." Hermione waved a hand in front of his face. "We are real. We live in the hearts of people all across the world. We just don't live in THEIR world. Or maybe we do. You never know. That J.K. could have had some psychic ability to see where we were. We may actually be real and people are just having fun controlling us… wow… that's kind of creepy."

"THANK YOU. Someone gets it. It IS creepy!" Draco paced back and forth. "So. I've got to go meet you at nine o'clock tonight… If I don't go, won't that make it a non-cliché thing? Or would me standing you up be just like the typical bad-boy me?"

"Meet me where?" Hermione enquired. "I never asked you to meet me anywhere."

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Granger. Cause I can't tell when you're being dumb and when you're just being yourself."

"I swear!" Hermione yelled. "I am NOT meeting you anywhere tonight!"

The two stared at each other.

"Then who is?" Draco asked. Just as he did, the REAL Blaise Zabini strolled around the corner, his face in a book. He was dressed in a dark green, baggy sweater and some black slacks. Just as he saw Draco and Hermione, he ducked his head back in his book and mumbled, 'allo.'

"Oh, Blaise. I've been meaning to ask you about the exam in Snape's Advanced Potions class…" Hermione put her hand slightly on his shoulder. Blaise glanced up a moment, his hair covering his face slightly, before looking down again. "Blaise?"

"I… I… Um… Its pretty hard… um… I gotta go." He whizzed down the staircase. When he got to Hermione's book he picked it up, strolled back up the staircase, said, "I think you dropped this," smiled, and went back down the staircase quickly. Draco looked from the blushing Hermione, to Blaise, to Hermione again.

"Oh my God. You did NOT fall for that cliché, did you?" Draco smirked. "You did!"

"That's not a cliché!" Hermione said, holding the book as if it were gold.

"Oh, its not?" Draco pried the book from her hands. "I bet in this is going to be some sappy love note to you from Blaise, confessing his undying love for you. –And I'm supposed to get jealous."

"That's not a cliché, Draco."

"And why isn't it?"

"For one thing –Blaise was actually black today, instead of the way he was in your dorms – you know, the whole Italian sexy thing going on. Second, Blaise was a bookworm like me just now. I bet if you open that up its not going to be a love note to me."

"Well, we'll just see about that." Draco smirked, opening the book and pulling out a small, folded note with a heart on the front. "And what do you call this?"

"A love note to you, courtesy of Blaise."

Draco looked down at the note. "You're making this up."

"No. I bet you its true."

"But…"

"Just open it!"

"Fine, Granger. Keep your skirt on… please." He opened up the note, his eyes falling on the scribbled piece of parchment. When he finished, he glanced up at Hermione with a smirk that could have made Merlin himself worried.

"What?" Hermione asked, slightly uneasy.

"Go ahead. Read it yourself." He handed the note to her. Hermione read out loud.

"Hermione,

I hope I don't make you feel uncomfortable, but I wanted to let you know that I've been thinking about it… would you be my escort to the upcoming honors ball? It's for all of us who've gotten advanced ratings on our NEWTS and OWLS. And I know you and I are at the top of the class… so… how about it?

Your Friend,

Blaise"

Hermione shook her head. "Its not a love letter at all!"

Draco smiled. "Nope. Now can we please focus on the actual clichés at hand?" Hermione was just about to ask what kind of clichés could possibly happen at this very moment when Pansy Parkinson strolled around the corner.

"Oh dear Lord." Hermione mumbled. Pansy was dressed in head to toe black; black mini skirt, black combat boots, and of course her traditional black robes. She gave Hermione the largest sneer she could muster before sauntering over to Draco.

"Hiya there big shot. I was just noticing you around and figured since we both are kind of the leaders of Slytherin we should hang out and then go back to the dorms and—"

"Pansy Parkinson. Don't tell me the clichés got you too." Draco begged, putting his hands on her shoulders to look her dead in the eyes. All she did was fawn and drool like a mental. "NoooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOO!" Draco threw his head back dramatically. "Pansy. Who did this to you?"

"Oh, Draco. I want you now." Was Pansy's answer.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not now."

Pansy glanced over at Granger. "Oh, I see. You're with HER. The mudblood."

"Pansy. Don't fall under this… curse! I'm not with Granger! I'm saving myself for Potter –I mean –she's not a vir- I mean, just don't go into this cliché-ic mess! Please!"

Pansy slapped him across the face. "Your father will hear about this, Draco. And then you'll be sorry." Pansy stepped on Draco's big toe and stormed off.

"No… Pansy!" Draco called back. "Granger! Don't just stand there! Grab her! She can't tell my father! Then it'll be really cliché!" Hermione gave a rather large sigh and threw the book at Parkinson's head. Pansy whirled around, glared, and continued to walk in the direction of the owlry. Hermione growled. "PARKINSON!" She bellowed, trying to come up with something to stop the witch (ha, play on words! PUN!). "Parkinson… come here and… and… fight for Draco like the man you are!"

"Granger!" Draco whispered. "You're walking into another—"

"Shut up, Draco." Hermione snapped. The challenge had seemed to gotten Pansy's attention. She stopped, turned, and marched back up the hallway, her large combat boots echoing across the floor. When she got to Hermione, she stuck her nose two inches from Hermione's.

"What'd you say to me?" She barked. Hermione stood her ground, though slightly uneasy. "You wanna say that again?"

"Fight. For. Draco. Like. The. MAN. You. ARE." Hermione gulped. Pansy smirked.

XXX

"Oh, Ms. Granger! What happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked as Draco held Hermione in his arms in the Hospital Wings. Hermione gave out a loud groan. "Is she hurt bad?"

"Not that bad." Draco stated. "She just got punched in the face by Parkinson."

"Well didn't the child know Pansy has a black belt in martial arts?" Asked Pomfrey as she sat Hermione on one of the Hospital beds. Draco shrugged. "Oh, don't move dear. I'll get some remedies from inside my room and leave you two inconspicuously in the same room as each other and somehow you two will confess your undying love for each other or want to shag each other senseless."

"NO!" Hermione and Draco shouted, but it was too late. Pomfrey had left, leaving the two inconspicuously in the same room. Hermione groaned again. "Are you okay?"

"I just got the shit beaten out of me by a girl named PANSY. Do you THINK I'm okay?" Hermione snapped. Draco somehow managed to get a wet washcloth and patted it over Hermione's head.

"Well, you shouldn't have called her out like that. She was just under a cliché."

"But aren't we supposed to try to AVOID clichés?" Hermione asked.

"You did. You got punched." Draco smirked.

"I just want to know who's starting the clichés."

Suddenly an owl swooped out of the clear blue sky and landed on the windowsill. It pecked at the window. Draco rolled his eyes and opened the window. In flew the owl with a package on his leg. Many authors still write in simple sentences. It's annoying. The owl cooed. Draco took the package off the leg. The owl was a good owl. This is some random information you don't need. Please excuse it. Draco read the note attached to the package.

"Dear Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger. The two Heads of Houses died in some horrific accident. I want you two to be head boy and head girl. Best of luck. There's some fortune cookies in the package. Make sure to hate each other before you eat them. They'll attatch you two to each other, like in the story by RootbeerFloat called I Didn't Know You Cared.

Yours Truly,

Professor Dumbledore."

Draco and Hermione looked to each other.

"Dumbledore's dead." Hermione gulped. "Whoever sent that is veeeeeeeery sadistic."

"Or just not informed about the actual books." Said Draco. "You know, many Harry Potter fans haven't even finished the fifth book and are STILL writing about the Seventh?"

"You're kidding!"

"Nope." Draco threw the fortune cookies out the window before petting the owl. "Now what."

"We find out who that note was from." Stated Hermione. "We find out who wrote that… we find out who's putting this cliché-ish curse on us. And when I find out who it is…"

"You're going to make them have a gangbang with you and Potter?"

"Not funny."