A/N: Hey there. I swear to God, punctuation will be the death of me. I'm kind of disappointed that so far things are not as funny as I hoped they would turn out, but still. I don't own Harry Potter, nor The Taming of the Shrew.
By the way, seeing as everyone writes that - reviews are most welcome and appreciated. I'm sure there's quite a lot to be desired, so if you get back at me it would be great.
"Well" Blaise Zabini thought, as he watched how his… House mate? Just mate? was getting the yelling of his life for the third time in five days "maybe the whole "Mating sessions of the incredibly stubborn and immature" business has some merits after all." He didn't want to exactly admit it, but he had laughed in the previous week at Draco and Granger's antics as much as he had in the whole previous year, maybe even slightly more. He and Ginny had developed the habit of discussing the events of the day, when they met every evening. Sometimes they would place bets about what Draco's next step in wooing Hermione might be and whether she would yell, slap him or just storm out in a huff. So far, Blaise hadn't been able to see a repeat performance of Granger's spectacular slap from third year – something that had arguably earned her the affections of the blond idiot. He was immensely curious as to how had that happened, but Malfoy had been totally mum about the entire "hippogriff fiasco".
What he didn't want to discuss with Ginny – he didn't want to seem as caring and soft as a Hufflepuff – was that it seemed to lift everyone's spirits. Even Granger's – no matter how far fetched and unrealistic that sounded. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were amused and bewildered at Draco's behavior. Though he didn't have the austere nature of a hermit – again, perfectly normal and hormonal teenage boy – he was never one to put his ego on the line just to get some female's attention. Granger had always been the sole exception of the rule, but as ridiculous as that sounded no one had noticed how intimate and telling that fact may be up until this point. To think that Draco Malfoy, arrogant git extraordinaire, was (and had been, for quite some time) whipped by the same girl that he teased, abused and occasionally wished and caused harm to, was, to put it plainly, absolutely insane. It led people to assumptions that he actually wasn't heartless, although there was no doubt that if he indeed had a heart, it would still be blackened and shriveled. Slytherins didn't seem as put out as one would expect them to be about one of their own behaving like a blood traitor over some irritating Mudblood chit. That in itself was proof (in Blaise's never modest opinion) that prejudices were not as overwhelming as they were not so long ago. And Gryffindors' reactions were the best thing about the whole deal – they were so perpetually confused, that one almost didn't have the heart to laugh at them. Almost being the key word in sentence. It was as if everybody in their house had made some bet about who could make the best impersonation of a first year Neville Longbottom – obliviousness, clumsiness, complete inadequacy and all.
But the people whose demeanor had changed the most were the two protagonists of this six-sickle romance. Draco seemed more carefree these days than in any other time of his life. True, he did rant about stubborn, bushy-haired prudes but with none of his ever present sullenness. It was as if a weight had been lifted of his shoulders – he was lighter than ever before (in both senses of the word), initiated contact and even laughed good-naturedly at something or other Blaise teased him about every once in a great while. Granger, on the other hand was a completely different story. She was irritable, easily angered and occasionally spiteful. In the same time she was practically crackling with energy – something that she had been sorely lacking after the fallout with the Ginger Wonder. Just like Draco, she seemed more like herself. After all, both of them hadn't had it easy in the war and it was obviously good for them both to be able to revert to more childish ways, but with none of their previous malice.
The way Blaise saw it there was only one drawback in this whole situation. Potter and Weasley weren't here and neither was Pansy. Ah, what unprecedented fun that would be, he mused wistfully. It would be priceless to watch Potter splutter incoherently as Draco announced in front of the whole Potions class that it was terribly sad that Amortentia smelled to him like cat's piss and rotten parchment, before he suddenly got the brilliant insight that maybe it was just what Hermione's perfume smelled like. It would be even more priceless to watch Weasley turn all shades of red and magenta at Draco's stupid innuendos in the corridors that maybe his lady-love wouldn't be so afraid of flying, were she to ride his broom (insert waggling eyebrows and lecherous, boyish grin here). But nothing would be more priceless than to watch Pansy turn even more vibrant shades of green than Weasley's red, knowing that despite his stupid comments and oafish behavior, Draco had never been more smitten in his entire, admittedly, short life.
Aha! Blaise was in for a load of fun tonight. Grangerhad obviously finished her tirade about certain "blond idiots", so she threw quickly most of her things in her satchel and stormed out of the charms room. In the middle of a class, no less. So it seemed Blaise, who had thought that Saint Hermione, Patron of Swots, would never skip on something, had lost his last bet with Ginny. Hell yeah, this meant that tonight he had to stay completely motionless for whole ten minutes during whatever sensual torture his fiery girlfriend decided to put him under. He spent the remaining ten minutes in class trying to come up with very detailed scenarios about whatever this "sensual torture" might include. Mmm, it was good that the forfeits were as good as the prize in his bets with Ginny. After all, this was why he liked to play with her so much.
Meanwhile, in a different part of the castle a certain willful female was raging on and on about a "disgustingly vile, stupid ferret" who made her blood race, although in a very unfortunate manner. Hermione was beyond pissed off, she was absolutely furious. First the fallout with Ronald, now this. As if the goggly eyed Ravenclaws weren't enough. She was already so bitter and resentful…
If there was something that could make her feel more humiliated and useless as a female, it was certainly Malfoy's innuendos. After years of his tormenting and bullying, which she had braved with stone-cold demeanor, she thought she had come to know him quite well. The comments about her bushy hair, beaver teeth and her lowly background, had made it obvious that to Draco Malfoy she was as undesirable prospect as they came. So what in the name of Nimue's hairs had made him behave like this now? She couldn't deny it – he wholly deserved to be a Slytherin. It was as if he had a radar for insecurities and he never failed to strike, much like a viper, where it hurt her the most.
Her failed relationship with Ron had left her feel so unfulfilled. After all the years of waiting, after the humiliation that he had chosen some girl who hadn't known him at all (and more importantly – hadn't cared to know him) over her; even after he had left them in the middle of a bloody war, she still believed she could make it work. She had known that he was devastated after Fred's death, as was his entire family so she hadn't pressured him about anything. She had ached to provide him some small reprieve from everything they had been through and he hadn't turned her away. But they both had been so hollow on the inside that she had known, deep down, that what they had wouldn't last very long. Yet she had just shrugged her shoulders like the Gryffindor she was and had gone with it all, consequences be damned. Maybe that was the reason that she just hadn't had it in her heart to be angry with Ron when he broke things off before the new school year at Hogwarts. She knew some small hidden part of her was still completely furious (that same part that made her treat every other boy with resentment and contempt) that after all the years of patience she still hadn't gotten her fairytale ending with her sometimes ridiculously inept and sometimes ridiculously adorable ginger prince. Well, it was what it was.
But this… this couldn't be tolerated. Right now, there was nothing more that she wanted than to annihilate the blond baboon. Or better yet, turn him into a ferret once more and lock him in that entirely more likeable form. And then maybe feed him to Crookshanks, if she was in a particularly bad mood. The most humiliating thing about the "ferret situation" was that the heat in his eyes, the playful lilt in his voice every time he accosted her almost made her want to believe him. He was too good an actor, much to the detriment of her sanity – with the way he behaved Hermione could almost believe that he really couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Ugh, that was completely unacceptable. She had made a promise to herself, after all. She wouldn't let herself be vulnerable. Couldn't.
As these and other similar gruesome musings were rolling around in her head, she hadn't noticed how she had reached the Astronomy tower. Hermione stood at the base of the staircase, still reeling. After some deliberation, she climbed the stairs without looking back. While she was as afraid of heights and falling as ever, she still found the solitude and stillness of the tower soothing. "When you think of it as a metaphor, you don't necessarily need stars for stargazing", she thought to herself, amused at her sudden philosophical bouts. Well, pity her amusement didn't last very long – just as she reached the middle of the staircase a most exasperating voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Why, hello, my bonny girl, I've been looking everywhere for you. Please, turn around, my fair maiden. I couldn't bear yet another minute without gazing into your starry eyes – they make even the Evening star seem dim in comparison." She could almost hear the smirk in his voice, when he next said "Rather befitting that we should meet in the Astronomy tower, don't you think? Maybe you're more amenable to me than I previously thought."
Hermione turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "As if. What is wrong with you these days? Have you hit your head?"
"Ah" sighed Draco in mock appreciation, "she does allow me a glimpse of her flushed cheeks. Anger so becomes you, Granger, no Briar Rose could ever compete with that. Though I'm sometimes rather afraid of all the tiny sparks that seem to pass through your hair whenever I see you. Be careful, love, otherwise you might burn me to a crisp."
"Well, we both know that at least one of your vital organs wouldn't be threatened. Hairy hearts, you purebloods say, if I'm not wrong?" She hadn't noticed how he had used the verbal fencing to his advantage – they were now at the top of the staircase and he was slowly pushing his way forwards, forcing her to step into the airy room, so that they wouldn't get too close. It was time to fight back if she didn't want to end up pinned to the railing. Having Malfoy in close proximity this high didn't bode well for her well-being.
"Speaking of fear, something you're too familiar with – how do you feel now that you're back at the scene of the crime?" She couldn't hold back.
The answer was instantaneous – in a blurry of motion he was standing in front of her, his face unnervingly calm.
"Oh, darling, always to true to yourself - speaking of things you know nothing of, arrogantly believing quite the opposite. You know, we really aren't so different after all." He reached out and carefully tugged one of her locks, smiling to himself. If she didn't know any better, she would think the look that flitted across his eyes was almost fond. "Still, I shouldn't expect anything less from you. Waspish as ever." The obnoxious smirk was back in place.
Something tugged at her synapses and she blurted out, not quite acknowledging where the words had come from. "If I be waspish, best beware my sting."
The smirk turned into a wide and happy grin, one that certainly didn't have any business staying on his face. It made him seem a different person altogether.
"Out of the two, I may be the coward, Granger, but I'm certainly not the one pathetically afraid of heights standing a good two hundred feet above the ground with a flimsy railing keeping me from falling."
Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the reality of the situation – it was true, he had caught her off guard with his inappropriate comments and even more inappropriate smile (because, shockingly, it seemed genuine) and had her effectively pinned against the waist-high iron railing. Her hands flew of their accord and fisted the vest of his uniform, clutching to him like a lifeline.
"Malfoy, I don't know what you're planning. But I can assure you, you're behaving utterly insane and I won't leave it without consequences. I'll make sure to hex your pointy nose off after I creep back to solid ground. Or better yet - make your hair a Weasley shade of red."
"Oh, that was such a blow to my ego, Granger. Do you miss the ginger tosser that much? But rest assured, fair Hermione, if that was my only chance to win your affections, I would even brave that awful carrot shade of orange. For you, my lady."
She almost shrieked. "You've really gone 'round the bend, haven't you?" Seeing his determined expression and the sardonic smile made her cut him off before he even got the chance to speak. She did not need to hear from him that, yes, being attached to her (or whatever other utter non-sense he tried to pass as a reason for his insanity) made him feel slightly off his rocker. It was preposterous, really, how he tried and succeeded to mess with her head.
Draco, on the other hand, was feeling as if someone was pulling the rug from under his feet. It was a heady feeling, having the witch this close to him, staring at him with wide doe eyes. She was scared almost to death, he could tell by the rapid, shallow breaths she was taking. It was also apparent by the fierce glint in those same doe eyes she wouldn't bend to his will. He smiled slowly, almost tasting the feel of the chase on his tongue. That unnerved her even more and she mumbled. "I bet your mad Black genes have finally started to manifest themselves."
He laughed at that. "Tell you what, Granger, let's make a deal."
She narrowed her eyes, still clutching to his sweater. "I would have to be mad to make a deal with the likes of you."
"Maybe, but do you really think you have a choice, right now? Your heart is probably beating a tattoo into your chest, as we speak." He grinned lecherously at the mention of said chest.
This elicited a scowl from her. "Let's hear it then."
"Well, Halloween's only three weeks away. Word has it, that there's going to be a Ball this year - something like the one Dumbledore held during the Triwizard tournament."
"Yes, Minerva and the other professors felt that it would be important to do something special this year – part of mourning all those we lost. Appreciating life, the here and the now, et cetera. It will certainly overshadow Sir Nicholas' death anniversary." She tried to laugh at that, to steady her frazzled nerves.
"Well" drawled Draco, ignoring the comment about the Gryffindor ghost. He hid his nervousness by placing himself slightly closer to the considerably more nervous witch. She instantly grew wary. "Since I'm sure you're not too keen to meet with your element yet, my darling earthy witch, I promise I'll let you go unscathed today... If you agree to come to the ball with me."
She stood there numbly, unable to from a coherent sentence.
After a minute or so, she managed to utter. "No. Simply no."
"Well, don't forget, that you're standing here at my mercy" Not so long ago this would sound incredibly menacing and creepy, but there was no malice or threat in his eyes. There was only that damn heat and that made her feel even more uncomfortable at the proximity, if that was possible at all. "Come to the ball with me, Granger, or there will be forfeits."
She scoffed, suddenly regaining a bit of her courage. "Like what? You're going to push me over?"
"Well, no. Let's just say I'm interested in my own gain and that would certainly not be it. If you don't agree, I get a kiss from you."
Hermione's eyes widened yet again. What a jester. He was full of surprises today, wasn't he?
"Malfoy, the joke is getting old. Move or I will find a way to hex you, even post factum." With that she shoved against him, but he wouldn't budge. Her frustration grew exponentially and she almost yelled at him. "Why won't you ever just leave me alone, you self-satisfied prick. Three weeks. Three miserable weeks is all the respite from your obnoxious behavior I've gotten for the seven years I've known you. When is enough?..."
She stopped herself when her gaze flickered across his face. Who was this person and what he had done with Draco Malfoy? There was nothing spoiled and whiny about his expression. Instead it was wounded and angry. She spoke again, her voice small, her own anger gone.
"What is it that you actually want, Malfoy?"
"I was very clear, Hermione. I want you to come to the ball with me."
Her shoulders sagged. "Very well, then. I will, as long as you leave me alone for the time being."
"Unfortunately, three weeks is an awful lot of time for you to change your mind. I require a wand oath."
And just like that her anger was back right where it belonged to – directed at Draco Malfoy. But he still had her pinned near the edge of the Astronomy tower, and she still was the first to give in. So she reached out for her wand, fighting the urge to do something really nasty to him there and then. After a few golden sparks from both their wands, indicating the sealed deal, he stepped back. But instead of turning around and going back to whatever rock he had crawled from under, he just stood there gazing at her, the resemblance to Luna Lovegood almost uncanny. Finally, he leaned into her once more and gently kissed her cheek.
Hermione stood there long after he was gone, her fear of imminent death by fall completely forgotten.