Somewhere between dreams of Harry challenging Professor Trelawny to a Quidditch game and Ron and Neville making a mess in Potions and singing Professor Snape's eyebrows off, Hermione was pushed from peaceful sleep into the cruel land of the waking. She let whoever did the nudging (more of a shove, really) know she didn't appreciate the summons by groaning and banging her head into her pillow.
Er, which was decidedly not a pillow.
Crikey Moses, was all that her mind seemed to be capable of saying.
The Object That Was Decidedly Not A Pillow was none other than Draco Malfoy's shoulder.
Oh dear.
The events of the previous evening flooded over her, and she groaned again. Just wait until Harry and Ron find out that you spent a night in bed with Malfoy—oh, wait, they're not going to find out, are they? Darn right, Hermione told herself, and decided a long, hot shower was the only thing that would make her feel better. So, she began the long and trying process of getting out of bed. First, she had to throw off the comforter smothering her and doing wonders for her hair. Then, she had to shove the blanket away, depositing the majority of the folds onto Malfoy. Her final task before freedom was to untangle the sheet from around her legs, which was completed with no small effort.
Finally, she was free.
Hermione was almost ready to spring out of bed when she felt herself being drawn closer into the center of the bed… closer to him. And before she could do anything, Hermione was back in the same position she had spent the last ten hours in.
Look on the bright side.
Oh, wait a minute, what bright side?
Malfoy made matters worse tightening his arms around her waist and tucking her head under his chin, so Hermione was sure her hair must have been sticking up his nose.
Serves him right, the nasty bugger.
Hermione considered her options. One: languish away all morning in bed, in Malfoy's arms, get nothing done, and have one whopper of a tale to tell when she finally made it to Hogwarts.
Not. Bleeding. Likely.
So, the well-prepared Hermione brought out Plan B.
She took a deep breath, and shoved Malfoy as hard as she could. Hermione savored her moment of triumph she watched his eyes open wide in shock, and somehow, as he tumbled over the side of the bed, she managed to keep her front row center seat, watching his descent onto the floor.
It wasn't until they hit the floor that she realized exactly how she had managed that.
Malfoy's eyes calmly looked up at her flustered, brown ones.
"Do you often wake up your bedmates with that kind of a greeting?" he asked, smirking.
Hermione let out a scream (more of a war-cry) and elbowed him in his (regretfully well toned) stomach. His arms left her waist and were too busy holding the aforementioned body part to stop her from standing and stomping into the bathroom, slamming the door with a very emphatic BOOM.