Things Heard While Asleep

Still in the Room of Requirement
POV: Draco Malfoy

I move my wand to the leaf wrapped around the C in Catherine's name, but before I can utter the surname, Muestilde, Granger's hand knocks my wand off its target.

"Granger! Wha-"

She holds up her hand to stop my complaint.

"Enough for now, Malfoy. The information will keep. It's been a long night. I honestly don't think I can handle anymore. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stop for now."

Perplexed, I stare at her. Her mystery, one so powerful she'd thrown caution to the wind to ask me for assistance, is even more intriguing, since it's so obviously intertwined with the one my father is having me unravel. I promise myself to look into it once she's gone.

As I watch her get up to pace, I see how thin the Gryffindor Know-It-All has become. Our recent, raucous merriment put some color into her cheeks. But, each time she eyes the new name that's formed on the parchment she pales. Her reaction is so alarming that I fear she might faint dead away again.

"Are you alright, Granger? You look a bit green around the gills."

She looks at me and nods once. Her lips are set in a familiar firm line. I am reminded that she came into the room in a right snit before I'd shown her the book.

Not being in any hurry to return to the coldness of my common room. The icy freeze in the lair I'd once held court in, has precious little to do with the fact that the Slytherin dorms are located down in the castle dungeons, and all to do with my father's current place of residence. So with no real place to go, I let my curiosity about this girl and the secluded nature of the magic in this room take over.

"Care to talk about it, Granger? Maybe your mouth flapping will keep you from keeling over."

She turns up her face to meet mine. She looks weary and in need of a good, fortifying meal.

"Why do you even care, Ferret?"

"It's not as if I've got anything better to do, Granger," I drawl languorously.

When a response from her is not forthcoming, I add, "I can listen, Bookworm. Can't promise I won't jab at you while you tell it, but I can listen."

"My trust in you is extremely limited in scope, Malfoy. It's baby steps from here on out. Why don't you give me a reason to believe you."

I continue to look to her. I can understand her reluctance. I truly haven't given her any cause to trust a word that falls from my lips. Being of a more suspicious mind myself, I decide to offer her something I would find acceptable in this case.

So, beyond the offering of this olive branch, lies the more disturbing realization that I've grown curious about this Mudblood, and I simply want to keep her in my company tonight.

I just can't fathom why.

"Why don't we make our mutual secret keeping part of the oath we made over this sodding cabinet?" I gesture toward the still faulty cabinet behind me, then look down at her, the caution clear on her face. "If you, or I, tell anyone what happens in here, we'll both have to suffer whatever hell Snape conjured up as a punishment for the breaking of the oath.""

I see the dawning of understanding reach her intelligent brain. At least with her I don't have to spell out my need for discretion at my uncharacteristic spilling of family secrets, even if the words had barely made sense to even myself as I'd uttered them.

"I see, Malfoy. An eye for an eye, then?"

"I'd rather not gouge out body parts, Granger," I reply wryly.

"I suppose you have a spell for this sort of secret keeping, Malfoy?"

"But, of course. Slytherins are taught it as soon as they're out of their nappies!"

With lips tightly pursed, she looks to me expectantly.

I toy with telling her it involves handholding, since the last time we did that it sent a delicious, taboo thrill through me, but I decide against it. I'm already heading into uncharted territory with this as it is.

"OK, Granger, hold out your wand. We'll touch them together and then... just repeat after me."

She narrows her eyes at my mouth, but after a moment of contemplation, she holds out her wand. I reach mine out to touch hers and say, "Specialis congruo!"

She waits to see if my incantation results in any visual feedback. When nothing happens, she repeats the spell, "Specialis congruo!"

Blue light, much like the chords that had swirled around our hands when we'd pledged the oath, shines from our wand tips, tiny bolts of lighting meet between the tips. I'd done this sort of secret-keeping enchantment before, with previous playmates.

I'd forgotten how mesmerizing the light is. There is a small spark at the top of the angle we create with our barely touching wands, and then the light disappears.

"There you go, Granger, your insurance," I sit down, attempting to make myself comfortable.

She smiles appreciatively and moves into a more comfortable position alongside the parchment. She's lying on her side, elbow propped up, her cheek rests in a hand. She sends me a soft look. I try not to notice her robes falling to mould to her very female curves. Seems Granger keeps herself a well-hidden secret beneath the school uniform.

I mentally slap myself for the unbidden thought.

Again, I need to remind myself that she's common, despite all evidence that points to the fact she's better, much better, at least mentally, than any pureblood, even half-blood, girl, I know.

"Judging from your earlier incomprehensible ranting, some sort of dark madness is plaguing your life, Malfoy. So, in comparison, my worries are, thankfully, much more miniscule. I fear you wouldn't find them the least bit tantalizing."

I close my eyes, blocking out the distracting sight of her. Now that they're closed, I have no desire to open them again.

"Be that as it may, you're still obviously bothered by them. Try me, Granger," I suggest. "Besides, I suspect you don't want to divulge whatever it is to your friends. In this way, I might be of some assistance, for I am certainly not a friend."

I move to rest my back against the cabinet and wait patiently for her to begin her story. I groan a little as I unfold my long legs in front of me and rest my hands on my thighs.

My unspoken dare hangs in our mutual silence.

Will she show me she can indeed trust me, just as she'd pledged over the parchment just minutes ago?

She sighs softly.

"You're right. You're not a friend, Malfoy. How can you be? You have no idea what having, or being, a friend means!" she gives voice to the depressing thoughts that have flitted about in the fringes of my mind for a while now. "Fine, Malfoy, I'll be the first to cross the fine line between friend and foe, but don't say I didn't warn you! I swear, if I hear you sniggering about this to those so-called Slytherin cronies of yours-"

I cut off her warning.

"Save it, Granger. Those sods are hardly interested in me these days. I can't imagine them caring about my life, much less yours," I bite this out, realizing that I'm trying to keep her talking before I fall asleep. "Look, I'm not looking for your pity. Just a safe harbor, for even just a moment. You have absolutely no idea how difficult it is to be me, every moment of every hour, feeling like I'm being stalked!"

I watch her squirm uncomfortably.

"You, Granger, have no concept whatsoever how much work it takes to maintain my reputation, or make the dreadful discovery that indeed you are without friends once the fear is gone. So, don't you dare sit there in judgement of me and voice your perception of my inadequacies. You've no idea what I've gone through."

I have no idea where I'm taking this line of thought, but it seems to snap her out of her recalcitrant mood and into contemplative thought. Always a dangerous place to put a thinker like her. She's benevolent today, however.

"I'm sure I can't imagine what it's been like for you, Malfoy. But apparently, it's much easier for you to give off your haughty airs than it is to maintain your usually coiffed hairstyle," she quips, in an attempt, I believe, to lighten the mood, causing me, again, to form a hint of a smile.

I run my fingers through my product-less strands.

Damn my housemates for rummaging through my things!

The silence continues and I find myself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then Granger's voice rudely splashes through the threat of sleepiness that is coming over me in great lapping waves.

"I suppose, Malfoy, that it makes sense for you to actually let your hair down once in a while," she gracefully acquiesces.

"Actually, I no longer have my pomade," I admit sullenly.

I startle at her giggle.

"My Slytherin housemates, those arse-" I grind out.

"You mean, inbred arse-"

I nod, feeling the crinkle of a smile tease the corner my lips as I accept her edit.

"My Slytherin housemates, those inbred arseholes, went through my trunk and took it!" I explain grumpily.

"Malfoy, for all your infamous paranoia, why don't you have any locking charms on your trunk?"

"I never worried about my things getting stolen before," I shrug, with a slight pout. A little worry niggles in the deep recess of my brain, but I'm too tired to care. "Besides, it isn't as though I can't replace anything if it is taken."

"It must be nice to have money, Malfoy," I hear her sulk.

"Money can buy lots of things, Granger, but it can't buy real friends," I mumble sleepily. "Count yourself richer for actually having some, no matter how moronic Scarhead and Weasel are."

I hear her surprised intake of breath, a sound I've just recently discovered I enjoy being the cause of.

I let out a gasp of my own, aghast at how easily the words that formed into a thought only a moment ago, slide so easily out of my mouth. I wonder if complete exhaustion accompanied with closing one's eyes, or finding oneself in the dark, acts a bit like veritaserum. I'm hoping there's some truth to my theory. I'd rather not think it's because of the present company I'm keeping that I'm finding truthfulness suddenly attractive.

"So, why do you care, Malfoy?"

I am thankful my eyes are still shut, so I can answer somewhat candidly.

"Because you're here, Granger. Even after all that," I gesticulate toward the book, indicating the loss of my signature control earlier. "After witnessing my personal fight with emotion, you're still here. You haven't even hinted at whispering the words, 'I told you so, Malfoy.' It's curious. This is your golden opportunity to gain the upper hand, kick me while I'm down. But you're not doing that. Why, Granger? You're supposed to despise me."

"Who says I still don't?"

Without my sight I'm able to listen more closely to her tone. To my astonishment, I find myself quite pleased to find her retort lacks its usual malice.

"And I told you before, Malfoy, don't assume I'll act like a Slytherin because I'm a Gryffindor and proud of it.… Anyway, like I said, my troubles are far less death-threatening than yours…. First of all… …"

Her voice begins to fade in and out. I wish for a cushion to sit on and magically a fabulously cushy pouf finds its way beneath my bum. I find something new to admire about the Room of Requirement. I must be halfway to sleep, I decide, because I don't engage her when she says my problems might be the death of me.

Never mind that she'd just hit the nail on the head about my predicament.

"next, Ron said… and then..."

Her undulating voice is hypnotic. I send a wandless Scourgify to the floor beneath me. I slide down onto my side, just like the pose she'd been in when I'd closed my eyes. I certainly hope that I wasn't getting too filthy. I use the cushion to cradle my head as I continue to listen to Granger. I remember, despite my own need to "rest my eyes," to make occasional sounds and nods of encouragement for her to go on.

"And then Harry's acting extremely bizarre because of a-"

I strain to hear her next word, but she seems to have stopped, catching herself before revealing too much.

"…. And then that insipid Lavender Brown, she… Ron is such a daft prat!… I could just-"

I chuckle a little at her exasperated exclamation, but say nothing.

"So, that's it Malfoy. My biggest problem, is not being able to…"

Her words fade out again as I slide down the slippery slope toward slumber.

"have a dress, but no date for Slughorn's …"

Even in my sleep-induced stupor it occurs to me that she's being incredibly stupid to starve and worry herself sleepless because she's unable to find a date. How utterly illogical! I want to yell this at her, that she shouldn't concern herself so completely over such banalities when there are bigger, darker things to worry about. It doesn't immediately occur to me that what I see happening to her physically doesn't have one iota to do with what she's sharing with me now.

"…pathetic, right?…"

I'm barely conscious, no longer wanting to think of her issues, desperately wanting to not give a rat's ass about her anymore. My need for rest has me focusing on my desire to reprimand her for her constant yammering. I wish to point out to her that, at least, I show her the courtesy of silence when she's "resting her eyes" in the library.

I search my mind for all manners of etiquette and decide a soft little snore is OK to release. She won't notice, I reason with myself sleepily. After all, it's just Granger. She loves the sound of her own voice. She'll talk incessantly if you let her. She won't notice I'm nearly napping as she continues to fume.

I nearly startle at her pesky voice when she aims questions at me.

"Malfoy? Are you awake?!"

Even though I can hear her, I refuse to respond. Instead, I let out a soft, sleepy snuffle. I am brilliant at faking sleep. After all, it's how I survived most of this last summer.

"Malfoy?" Her voice is quite close. I keep my eyes closed and work to keep my breathing slow and even.

"Hmmmmm…" she sounds suspicious.

"And so, Malfoy," I feel her breath against my ear, and am overwhelmed by the scent of apricots. "Last night, I traveled to the Amazon and captured a spectacularly rude monkey. I've just finished training it to dance on your head every morning… For… the… rest… of… your… godforsaken… life!"

Old trick, I'm not falling for that one. I continue to keep my eyes tightly shut and my mouth relaxed, though I do want to laugh at her imagery, except it's Potty's head the monkey's using as a dance floor, not mine.

I feel Granger's breath ruffle the fringe on my forehead. The tips of her hair tickle my nose. Her voice is quiet, but within hearing range.

"Hmmmm… Mal-foy?" she sings, "Are you really asleep?"

What a ridiculous question, Granger! I think sternly.

"Alright then, now that you're not conscious, there is so much for me to say! Let's see. I can barely think of where to begin!" There's irrepressible delight in her voice. "Oh, I've been wanting to tell you this for weeks. You should take better care of yourself, Ferret. You look like hell."

I work very hard to keep my eyebrows from arching and my mouth slack with sleep.

"You're an insufferable git, you know that, Malfoy!? It should be against the law for you, even with this emo thing you've got going on this year, to look this fantastic. It's false advertising, especially considering how foul you've always been to me!"

Emo? I wonder if that's the same as metrosexual? I hadn't minded that Muggle characterization last year. I'll assume it's manly because she did say I look entirely too fantastic for my own good.

I fight against my desire to send her a self-satisfied smile and wait silently for her to continue.

"And you have to know you've been extremely vicious to me, Ferret! So, WHY in all the wizarding world would you actually show me any bit of kindness NOW?! Of course, you would wait until AFTER I've finally decided that you are an irredeemable miscreant. Leave it to you to go and change the game just as I'm getting used to playing it! So infuriating!"

Miscreant, I rather like that word. I know she's testing, seeing if she can get a rise from me. She's also speaking the truth. I feel her approach. I stay still and silent, taking note that her breath smells of peppermint and remnants of butterbeer.

"Figures! You boys are all the same, insensitive louts, the lot of you! Not paying a bit of attention to me! Not realizing the fact that I'm a girl and not just a brain with legs!" The annoyance in her huff would have been laughable had her undertone not been so heartsick. I shift a little, hiding half my face in the cushion, I release a sigh, and hear her quick intake of breath.

Abrupt silence from her corner.

Enough time passes that the temptation to peek out of one eye is nearly irresistible, but I know she is watchful, so, I keep still. My patience is rewarded with the scent of apricots wafting over me once again. This time, I can feel her breath against my cheek, her mouth near my ear.

"Malfoy?"

I let out a sniff followed by another snuffly snore, burrowing my face further into the pouf, effectively moving my face away from the distraction of hers.

A relieved sigh… hers. I sense her pull away before she goes on.

"Well, Malfoy, since you're asleep, I think it's apropos for me to at last thank you for the flower. It was quite sweet of you to think of it. I'm pressing it in my favorite book. I thought you might want to know…" she gives a little self-conscious laugh. "Well, since you're actually asleep, you'll never really know that. Still… it's nice to say it out loud to you. At least you're not mocking me for it. That is the benefit of me telling you when you're dead to the world."

I pull my legs and arms closer to me as her scent and warmth drift away.

"You know, if things were different, Malfoy," she says so softly I fear I may be dreaming it, "I think maybe I'd ask you to Slughorn's party. Considering who's left, you're not so bad." I hear a tiny smile in her voice. "I'd even venture that in that spectacular looking chest of yours, you've a little heart beating there."

At her whispered regret and mind-blowing compliment, I struggle to keep my eyes closed. I shift again to my side, pull myself into a tight fetal position so as to ease the fluttering ache in the center of my being, a place I'd like to think of as a vast and empty void, especially when it comes to the likes of Granger.

She's silent now, but from the shuffling noises, it seems she's walking around me. She quietly casts a warming spell over my resting form. I feel rather than hear the charm because the cold air that had been settling on me dissipates. She must have also wished for a cot and coverlet, because I feel myself now wrapped in comfort, a sort of tucked in feeling you have as a small child after being kissed goodnight by a mother who loves you.

I allow myself a tiny peek from beneath my lashes and see she's settled herself across the divide outlined by the book and the lengthy parchment. She pulls herself in a little cocoon as well. I watch her mutter something and perform some familiar hand flicks.

Alarm charm.

Smart girl.

Knowing I won't have to worry about my safety, or even something as mundane as oversleeping, I slide more deeply into the blessed oblivion of slumber.

A few hours later
POV: Draco

The tinkling of bells drags me back to semi-consciousness, the sound would be pleasant to hear had the ringing not been so incessant. I moan a little at the intrusion, but refuse to open my eyes. I don't want to risk ruining a perfectly fantastic dream about me and a certain Gryffindor.

Unfortunately, the sound does not cease as I'm chasing the wisps of my dreamland fantasy. Because there's been no response to the tiny, but effective alarm, I assume Granger is as sound asleep as I had been. I open my eyes only a crack to figure out if I can do something about stopping the continuous ringing. I'm welcomed by the sight of Granger's back facing me. She is only now sleepily responding to the irritating alarm. I see it is in the shape of a little frog at the side of her head.

Still stealthily feigning sleep, back to using one eye to peek at her behind the cover of eyelashes, I try not to smile as the little alarm continues its interminable ringing while now bouncing up and down on her shoulder.

Clever.

It does its job because she at last gets up, first grumpily mumbling and swatting at it. This sends it flying, which causes her to sit up at attention. She huffs and then at last she lifts herself from her wrappings to try to find it and finally quiet it. Granger leaves my line of sight in her pursuit of the small enchanted frog alarm. I hear her stumbling among the random objects in the near darkness of the room. I do not turn my head to follow the sounds. I smile at her muttered curses.

I need to learn how to conjure one of those.

I assume she catches it because the bell ringing thankfully terminates. I find myself closing my eyes again and settling more deeply into my covers, welcoming the renewed silence with more sleep.

"Malfoy? Are you awake?" her urgent whisper, beckons me open my eyes, but I stubbornly refuse, quite suddenly of the strong belief that my life depends on my capturing more shut-eye.

I bury my face further into the cushion with a protesting moan.

"Malfoy?"

I am as surprised as she is to hear my sleepy mumbled response.

"Please, mum," I whine, my long forgotten boyhood excuse escaping from my subconscious out through my lips. "I feel sick and don't wanna go to school today."

There is a soft muffled sound just above my head that can only have come from her. I can only surmise it's a quickly squelched giggle.

I slip further beneath the covers, mortified.

Then, her annoyed harrumph reaches my ears, but her next words are gentle.

"I do suppose you need this more than your prefect badge," she whispers softly, the reprimand benign. "It's OK, Malfoy, I'll find someone to cover for you."

I feel her attempt to gently smooth down the damnable cowlick I'd been fighting for weeks.

With a little surprise, even with her hand on me, I find it effortless to keep my breathing relaxed and even. Her careful touch is calming. This is the best bloody rest I've had since the beginning of the term and I don't want to wake up yet.

Still, she continues to speak, keeping me tethered to the reality of the awful things beyond the doors of this room. I wish only for oblivion and I want her to leave me alone. I fear a temper tantrum coming if she doesn't stop talking. Right. Now.

"Pity that the only place we can be decent to each other is in this room," she whispers regretfully, so close I catch again the scent of apricots and peppermint. "And, of course, now we've absolutely got to keep this secret, because I'd die if you ever knew what would befall me if I didn't."

She continues absently, gently, running her fingers through the strands of my hair. I find myself annoyed at how ecstatic I am that my hair is not behaving properly enough for her so that she continues her ministrations.

Her half confession piques my interest. My annoyance at her is temporarily forgotten. My heart pounds in my ears as I focus all my energy on pretending to be suspended in subconsciousness, wondering if she'll reveal anything else.

"Wingardium Lumos!" she whispers, her hand leaving my hair. I feel the covers being pulled up over my shoulders as I try not to smile at her casting of the flying nightlight charm.

Mum used that one a lot for me when I was little.

Hey! The Manor's a big place!

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she whispers. I feel a softness at my cheek. I find that I'm sorry for being left to wonder if she'd used her fingertips, or lips to place the touch on my face. "Sweet dreams, Ferret. I hope you get some much needed rest."

Her hushed use of the hated term as an endearment puts a touch of a smile on my face. I hear the soft swish of her robes recede as she leaves the room.

In the Corridor
POV: Cormac McLaggen

I watch Hermione Granger stop haltingly in front of the tapestry of trolls doing ballet.

Nice piece of ass, that one. Made even more attractive now that Potter and Weasley have both warned me off. So that's where she's hidden herself off to, the notorious Room of Requirement.

With Malfoy?

Right.

She can't even stand the prat!

Those two numbskull friends of hers have got it all wrong. Likely, she's up to something, though without the other two of the Golden Trio, I can't think what.

Whether or not he was with her, it was only to my benefit that Malfoy wasn't sulking around in his quarters today. I've perfected my disillusionment charm and have been slipping into the Slytherin common room for kicks. One of my dorm mates dared me to steal something from one of the gits in the silver and green. I'd done it twice now. Malfoy's expensive pomade is now sitting in my trunk, a rather humorous trophy. Adding to it is the presumably expensive, after all what does Malfoy own that isn't expensive?, bottle of liquor I found on my covert trip to his room today.

I need a host's gift and I've got a mind to ask Hermione to the Slug's party. I believe that particular bottle now has the new Potions Professor's name written all over it.

"Oi, Hermione!" I shout to capture her attention, flashing her my most dashing smile.

"Hello, Cormac, what are you doing up here?" she replies quietly, her eyes sliding back and forth between me and the tapestry.

"To tell you the truth, I was looking for you."

"Oh, um, I'm on prefect rounds, Cormac" she says, nervously, eyes shifting, "Would you mind terribly if we walked and talked?"

"No, sure," I reply breezily. She had a purposeful stride. Had it not been for my unique brand of athleticism, I imagine I'd be panting in her wake.

She moves briskly away from the tapesty, and we're halfway down the corridor when she moves in front of me, obviously waiting for me to continue.

"Did you have a concern you wanted to voice, Cormac?" she asks sweetly. Her smile is beguiling, but I have a sneaking suspicion she's staring over my shoulder.

Maybe too shy to meet my eyes.

"I was wondering, do you have a date to Slughorn's party, Hermione?"

She looks startled at my inquiry. I suppose she's never had good looking blokes ask her out before. Viktor had been a prime catch, considering his fame, but he certainly isn't in possession of my classically strong bone structure.

"No, actually, I don't, Cormac," she says, a little too quickly, interrupting my thought process. Clearly, she's eager to have me ask her. I send her another winsome smile and a wink.

Her eyes widen and she flinches. Obviously, it's her unique reaction to my handsome beauty. It is fairly difficult to stare too long at such physical perfection, I'll give her that.

I eye her with an open invitation in my gaze.

"Well, seeing as we're both without a date, Hermione, I was wondering if you'd like to attend the party with me?" I ask, throwing in a bit of that fake halting tone that girls believes is nerves on a male. Makes them feel good that a bloke is a bit tongue-tied, I suspect. I gaze longingly at her, waiting for a response, and I even bother to thow in a tiny measure of pleading in my look.

She turns her head to stare squarely back at me, she takes a minute, and her brown eyes glisten a little.

Will she cry out of happiness to be asked by the likes of me? I wonder. It would be a first, but certainly understandable.

"I'd be honored to attend Slughorn's Dinner Party with you, Cormac," she says, a little too loudly.

I move in to hug her to thank her, but she moves away, not realizing I'd been moving toward her, I suppose.

"I'll meet you in the common room fifteen minutes before and we can walk over together, is that OK?" she asks again, her decibel levels heightened as though I'd lost my hearing.

I frown a little at her bizarre behavior, but attribute it to lack of food and sleep. She certainly looks as she could use both.

"That sounds fine, Hermione," I say gallantly. "I'll see you then."

"Sure thing, Cormac."

I find it odd that she travels back the way we'd come, but shrug it off since she must have some sort of pattern she has to keep to for rounds. I make my way to the tower, looking forward to the lustful look in Slughorn's eyes for the gifts I'll be bringing him.

Down the other corridor
POV: Hermione

"Harry Potter!" I shout, furiously. "Why are you following me? Have you tired of stalking Malfoy already?"

"I heard you and Cormac, Hermione."

"Wait. Wait. Let me guess," I say tiredly. "You don't like it. Well, he and I are going, Harry! And there's nothing YOU can do about it!"

He stares and seems to sense a dare in my statement. His glasses glint, reflecting the torch light that illuminate the halls. I'm unable to get a clear read of his eyes.

Disquieted by my stubborn stance, he asks haltingly, "Hermione. Why didn't you ask…"

I have a snaking feeling that he's struggling with what he's going to say. I can't decide if I want to lean in closer, or run far far away before hearing the rest of his inquiry. He heaves a sigh before finishing, "Ron? Why didn't you ask Ron?"

"Ron?! Are you serious, Harry? If you haven't noticed, he's got a rather obnoxious Lavender Brown permanently attached to his lips! And frankly, I do believe he likes..."

"Ron likes you," Harry insists. "He's always fancied you."

"And I like him, too," I say, confused. "But, he's my friend, Harry. That's all. There's been no indication that he fancies me!"

"I always thought you fancied Ron," he says with a stunned voice. "Honestly, Hermione, I really thought…"

"How could I, Harry? Ron's one of my best friends! And you're usually my other one, but lately you've been an unbelievable arse!"

For the life of me, I can't comprehend the look of shock on Harry's usually calm, but more recently angry, face.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he replies remorsefully. Sincerity flows over his every word. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Well, I do, actually... But..."

I cock my head at him, wondering anew why Harry has been acting so oddly. Tapping my foot, hands on hips, I wait for him to continue.

"I think I've gone mental with all this kissing and getting together all over the castle. It's all bound to drive any singly bloke completely barmy, Hermione. I really am so sorry for my abominable behavior. It's just that… It's just that I can't stand the thought of you having to spend time with Malfoy."

"He's not that bad, Harry," I say softly, expecting another stinging reprimand for my defense of Malfoy.

I watch the internal struggle cross over onto Harry's face and into his stance. The green of his eyes flash defiance. He snaps his head to the side, as if having an apoplectic twitch. Then, he stops all movement very suddenly, his body apparently complying with his internal orders to stop the madness.

He sighs a little and he shakes his head. Then, his green eyes gaze at me again, reminding me of the afternoon when he seemed to be seeing me for the very first time.

Now, where there had been a hard set to his rather luscious mouth, a soft smile plays there. I'm hypnotized by the self-control he's exhibiting. At the sound of my assurances that Malfoy isn't completely malevolent, I watched with interest the tensing of Harry's muscled form.

He'd looked about ready to blow his top, but now seems to have worked through a complete mental meditation that in turn touched every part of his body that bristled at my comment. Witnessing the transformative process of him finding relaxation and regaining his easy going manner has me wondering what such a visible change process might look like if Harry was out from under his robes.

Merlin's pants, woman! Get your hormones under control! I shout at myself. This is the second time tonight you've let them control your thoughts!

"Let's not fight, 'Mione" he offers amicably. His hand reaching out to touch my arm in physical familiarity. It's an apology that needs no words.

I'm still slightly taken aback.

"O - Kaaaay," I say cautiously.

Where I'd expected fervid disapproval, he's suddenly returned as the young man I'd grown to love through these five intense years of fighting for the Light.

"I've been needing a girl's perspective for a few weeks now. Ron's no help, and Luna keeps talking about nargles."

Oh, so it's only now that he notices I'm female? And he truly couldn't get over himself long enough to come and apologize for his out of bounds behavior? I'm third in line now?

I watch him busily dig into his robe pockets, unaware of my growing irritation.

"I've been fighting off girls all week," he explains, his head down, struggling with extracting whatever is in his pocket, "and it's been killing me that I haven't been able to talk to you about it."

I chafe a little at his words. I don't know why. To hide my discomfort, I do try to laugh. It comes off like a scoff, but still, my good faith efforts should count!

I step toward Harry to see what he's got.

"Mistletoe?"

"This is the bane of my existence since the holiday season started, actually," he sends me a sardonic smile, picking it up by the stem and examining it. "It's quite ridiculous. You know, the girls are levitating these into the air and following me around in packs!?"

I sigh incredulously and purse my lips. I've heard about the hordes of females that have taken to stalking Harry as though he were some sort of prey. It would have been hilarious had the thought of it not been utterly vexing.

"What exactly would you like to ask of me, Harry?" I say trying not to sound too put out.

He looks sheepishly at me now, his stare turns intense, and I can feel growing heat under my collar. He shifts on his feet and finally lays claim to his voice.

"I've been wondering, Hermione, where the one girl I'd most like to find under the mistletoe has taken herself off to."

My eyes go round in shock as he holds the mistletoe above my head.

"Actually, Hermione," he says rather huskily, taking a step closer. "I was rather hoping a kiss from you might help me restore the unfathomable joy that, in my understanding, is supposed to be a result of this particular tradition."

I shake my head. This cannot be happening!

"And it wouldn't hurt if you might also possibly consider kissing and making up?" he inquires this of me in that same seductive tone.

I stare wide-eyed at him. My eyes grow wider still as I see who's just stepped into the hallway, behind Harry. I try not to stare at Malfoy, who appears adorably mussed. His hair is sticking out at odd places and a sweet smile plays at his lips.

Gods! Did I just call the Ferret, adorable?!

His usually impeccably pressed robes are wrinkled as though he'd slept in them.

Oh... right...

I can barely believe I'm hearing the sound of an impossibly happy humming of a Christmas carol coming from the tall blond. His head moves slightly, catching my sudden movement down the dark corridor. I see his grey eyes flash. He ventures forward, halting mid-step. He appears stupefied at the sight of me and this boy holding mistletoe above my head.

Merlin, I hope he doesn't know it's Harry!

"Hermione? Are you going to accept my apology?" Harry asks anxiously, his smile wavering, his tremendous courage flailing. I fear his unmistakable voice is echoing down the hall.

I flick my gaze over his shoulder before answering. Of course, Malfoy's still there watching. His hands hold the book we'd been laughing over several hours before.

"Uh, yes, Harry." I say distractedly, my focus stealing off to settle on the striking blond who is now showing the tension Harry had only a minute ago.

Merlin's Pants! I'd just unwittingly given away Harry's identity. Can the earth swallow me up whole now. Please!

I scowl as my wish remains unfulfilled.

What's the point of being a witch if you can't use magic during desperate times like these?

I am extremely perturbed to be left a witness to the expected sneer slowly sliding onto Malfoy's face.

Please, please, Malfoy, do not walk this way.

I find myself desperately cursing myself for not having practiced more wandless magic over the summer.

What I would do for the ability to cast an unspoken, wandless "Incarcerous!" right about now!

"Really, Hermione?" Harry says with a wide smile, closing the gap between us so I can feel the strength of his well-defined chest against my softer curves.

Damn that quidditch! It's because of all that training that these boys are growing into such virile young men. Despicable outdoor exercise!

"For pity's sake, Harry. Yes, really! It's fine," I say exasperatedly, now distracted by his closeness, and the woodsy outdoor scent I've always associated with him.

Trying to speak with my eyes alone, I send a warning out to Malfoy to keep his distance.

Of course, the prat doesn't take heed.

I take a moment to close my eyes, hoping this nightmare will all just go away. I open my mouth to take in a fortifying breath and am suddenly greeted with the softness of Harry's lips touching mine.

Merlin!

My very first kiss!

And it's Harry and it's…

… quite good, actually.

His lips move expertly over mine, teasing the corners, resting at the seam, where my lips meet. I feel the soft press of the tip of his tongue… wet… gently begging entrance. I open hesitatingly, inviting him in. I tentatively lick his lips, dipping into his mouth. He tastes of chocolate. Delicious!

A deep, pleased sound rumbles from his chest up into his throat. My eyelids drift closed. I feel his hand cup my jaw, drawing me closer. I greedily oblige.

Mmmm. Sweet and…

My gods! This is Harry!

THIS. IS. HARRY! AND. I. NEED. TO. STOP. RIGHT. RIGHT. RIGHT. NOW!

…or maybe in another second or two…

I feel his fingers curl into my hair and the other hand wrap around my waist. The pretense of the mistletoe excuse obviously long forgotten.

After the headlong kiss that leaves me oblivious to all else, he pulls away for a shuddering breath, returning to shower fluttery kisses on my lips, sending delicious shots of tingles throughout my body. I pull myself toward him reaching out with my face for more.

"Hermione?" he says between soft caresses. His teeth nipping at my lower lip.

"Hmmm?" I manage, having already forgotten all time and space. I'm slightly disturbed that an image on an altogether different wizard swims into my brain. I focus on pushing the annoying picture of him from my mind as I try to summon another kiss.

"I do believe we have an audience." Harry whispers, a smile on his lips as he touches them to mine one last time. I feel him lift his head away, his arms pulling me closer against him to see who'd caught us under the mistletoe.

I feel the sharp staccato of Harry's heartbeat beneath my hand. The increased speed, I fear, has nothing to do with the intimacy we've just shared.

"Malfoy," a snarl of robust disdain rips from Harry's throat as he looks up to discover who stands behind me. The repulsive cockroach seems to have regained locomotion in his limbs as he'd finally walked over to and around us, not to mention, he's now quietly clapping his hands, offering us annoying applause. "Where's the Weasel? I'm sure he wouldn't mind front row tickets to this."

"There's nothing to see here, Ferret," Harry grinds out, his grip tightening around my waist. The sight of the possessive movement, tautens the muscles at Malfoy's jaw. "That is, of course, unless you need a lesson on how to properly kiss a willing girl. I'd be more than happy to oblige your need to study, as I'm sure Hermione wouldn't mind. It's an academic cause, after all."

I gasp. Harry did not just insinuate I was no more than one of his harpy groupies and such a wanton hussy to be open to having onlookers invade something so... private!

I feel the color rising to my cheeks as my palm itches to slap someone. Namely, Harry Potter. But before I can turn around to deliver it, I hear a low growl come from Malfoy who must have also caught onto the insult to my character, if not the clear insult to his prowess. I look quickly to him, but again, my response to him, which would have been kind, is halted because the Ferret decides to open his toxic mouth.

"That was quite a show, Granger," Malfoy's acerbic tone cuts through me and I stiffen.

"Make yourself scarce, Malfoy," I bite out, slightly embarrassed, but grab hold of Harry's hand to anchor myself. Malfoy notices my change in stance and his smirk moves swiftly into scowl. I'm using Harry's hold so I don't launch myself at Malfoy in my great desire to tear his silky blond hair out clump by stringy clump.

Malfoy looks down on me, focusing in on my mouth, then sniffs disdainfully. His lips curl hatefully at me.

"And miss this delightful opportunity to mock you, Granger? Hardly! Come, come, you must know me better than that… by now," he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Though he continues to speak to me, he turns to face Harry. "Well, my Gryffindor Princess, why don't you tell Potter here what you were doing with me before he showed up bearing his…" the Ferret looks down to disdainfully kick the little weed with the tip of his shoe, "…mistletoe."

I grind my teeth at his use of such an insulting pet name and the indecency of his insinuation about him and me.

I feel Harry's shocked intake of breath as his hold loosens on me. I turn slightly to watch his head whip between the Slytherin git and myself. I'm annoyed that of all the times for Malfoy to neglect maintaining a spotless appearance, it would be now! He looks as though I'd been running me fingers through his hair.

Which, of course I had been, but that's besides the point!

I can only imagine what lunacy is now playing in Harry's head as he looks from Malfoy to my flustered self, taking in our wrinkled robes and the self-satisfied smirk the cockroach wears every time he has the audacity to glance at me. It's not difficult for me to make the mental leap. I can imagine, it's the same for Harry.

Malfoy knows I can't tell the truth, that slimy, rotting piece of putrid…

My teeth clench as I try to think about how to explain Malfoy's outrageous claims to Harry without spilling any truth. Even speaking just a bit about the inconsequential interaction that transpired between Malfoy and me earlier would likely have me forcibly trying to control the urge to step up to Malfoy and throw myself at him. Through the slightest hint at breaking the oath, I'd found the nearly irrepressible desire to confirm the worst of Harry's unspoken suspicions about me and the blond tosser.

My enraged silence seems to egg Malfoy on.

"You do realize, with that repulsive public display of affection, and it, unfortunately, being after hours, well, that's going to cost your house," Malfoy intones regally, apparently ready to play prefect for the very first time all year. "You've just lost your house 20 points each. You two, you should be ashamed of your smutty selves."

"It was just a little kiss, Malfoy," I argue, unintentionally downplaying the most fabulous kiss. EVER… well, also my only kiss ever… but still!

I refuse to look at Harry in case I accidentally insulted him.

The putrid, puss-filled wanker then has the nerve to say, "I can forgive you the points, Granger, that is if you are willing to… ahhh," he stops short of making the lascivious suggestion, thereby making the innuendo even more crude. He adds fuel to the already blazing inferno of rage he's stoking behind in Harry, and within me, by giving me the same lewd once over he did in front of Ron.

After a painful heartbeat of a second, where I'm gripping my wand trying to decide which painful hex I want to use, the Slytherin bastard decides to continue, "I assure you, Bookworm, should you choose to pleasure yourself with the likes of me while making up the points, there would be nothing little about what might arise between us."

His smirk sends Harry over the edge. Using what little willpower I have, I clamp my hand down on Harry's wand arm before he can send an Unforgivable in Malfoy's direction.

Where is Malfoy's exceptionally vile and belligerent attitude coming from? I wonder helplessly.

As the question fills my brain, I point my own wand at Malfoy. Tears are threatening and I am frustrated because all of my usually perfunctory comebacks escape me. Violent infuriation having temporarily stolen my voice, I feel Harry's gaze drill into me. At my continued speechlessness, he goes from expectant to exasperated.

What I see shining in the green depths of his eyes hurts far worse than any Crucio!

A glimmer of distrust flares into blazing disgust of me. It is at this precise moment that I feel the sweet sensation of my first kiss slip away.

"Hermione?!"

The sound of another male voice reaches me from around the corner.

Sweet Merlin! What now?

"Cormac," Harry sneers through gritted teeth as the tall figure nears.

Harry's irate glare flits between McLaggen and Malfoy. Malfoy isn't keeping his animosity of the former Gryffindor Keeper in check either. As the three continue to throw daggers at each other, Harry lets go of my hand to place himself in front of me, facing the other two without my body as an impediment.

Not one to hide behind his robes, I sidestep away, closer to Cormac, much to the obvious chagrin of both Harry and Malfoy.

Taller than both Malfoy and Harry by half a head, Cormac sidles closer to me and ends the strained silence.

"Hermione, I came back to ask-," Cormac pauses, at last coming to understand the true reason for the tension in the tight circle. He seems to puff out his chest as he says, "Hermione, do you have a color you'd prefer that I wear for the party?"

At his last word, he looks as though he's ready to flash a triumphant Cheshire cat grin at the two other boys.

"Oh," I say rather stupidly. "I really don't have a preference, Cormac. I'll be wearing a pastel peach colored dress, but you can wear-"

"Seems you've been quite busy tonight, Granger," the rude, interrupting drawl originates from the obvious source. What's not so obvious to the others is the depth of feeling in Malfoy's stormy glare which hasn't left my face since Cormac couched a question in the single utterance of my name.

Malfoy's almost acting… jealous.

I play with that surprising thought for only a moment because there's more than one wizard who's infuriated with me right now.

"So you're not even going to reconsider going with McLaggen, even after-" The hurt, incredulousness in that voice is quite obvious. Harry stops himself, remembering who is paying witness.

"Perhaps your meaningless little kiss drove her to accepting the charms of another, Potty," suggests Malfoy with rancor.

"Obviously you didn't score either, Malfoy. She's going with Cormac, isn't she?! Not YOU!" Harry retorts angrily, his usual tact having flown out the window along with his pride.

I let out a horrified gasp.

Harry turns on me then.

"How many bad decisions have you made tonight, Hermione?!" His question borders on shouting at me. "I want to retch at the idea I've been kissing lips touched by that Slytherin wanker!"

"Do not speak to her in that manner," comes Malfoy's haughty, reprimanding tone, forcing Harry to whirl around. I stare at the both of them, my mouth gaping as I turn my full attention to Malfoy, speechless at the irony of the whole situation.

Before Harry can respond to the Ferret's uncharacteristic castigation of Harry all for the benefit of my defense, I forcibly push myself between them.

"How dare either of you treat me like a madonna, or a whore," I shout, taking both my hands now and shoving against one chest and then the other. "I'm me, and Harry, you of all people should know I wouldn't do anything like what Malfoy's suggesting! And Malfoy, if you truly knew me, you'd have left the moment you saw me with Harry. It's becoming ever more clear that no one really knows the true me..."

To my horror I'm starting to sound heartbroken at Harry's lack of trust in my judgement, at Malfoy... well... for being Malfoy. I tug again at my anger, pulling it around me as I force myself to go on.

"I can do what I like!!" I continue on a shout, pleased that my voice has regained strength, "I can do what I like when I like! I can choose whom to spend time with. I can choose who I refuse to be around! Not one of you can tell me, or bully me into doing whatever it is you want me to do! Because I am in charge of me! The only one who can take care of me... is ME!!"

"… and for the record, mates, I asked her," Cormac claims, proudly, standing beside me trying to grab at my hand. His motion does not escape Malfoy who doesn't bother to keep the look of ultimate loathing, aimed at McLaggen, off his face. "She said yes immediately, of course. Potter, you and Weasley were both wrong. Hermione is not the least bit sanctimonious."

I stare at Harry, whose offensive mouth thankfully shuts. I am again hurt beyond measure by my very best friend while being forced to hear Malfoy's muffled, mocking laughter.

I turn my scowl at McLaggen. Why would Cormac say that, especially while I'm standing beside him? In front of Malfoy?!

Stupid boys!

Horrified, I slowly step backwards, drawing myself out of everyone's reach. My eyes never leave the three of them. The anger in me is still rising quickly and I try in vain to restrain it because the dark power of it is extremely frightening.

"I'm leaving," I announce loudly to no one in particular, gathering the courage to do the right thing and attempt a somewhat graceful exit. "For all I care, the three of you can go on comparing the size of your wands. I doubt it will be much of a contest, though, you're all rather impotent when it comes to proper enchantments," I shout pointedly at each of them.

As I turn the corner I hear Cormac's shout.

"We still have a date, Hermione, right? I'll be on the lookout for something that complements your dress in the meanwhile. I'm looking forward to seeing you primped up again, just like at the last Yule! I'm sure you're looking forward to seeing me in all my finery, too!"

I roll my eyes at Cormac's daft, self-centered shallowness.

Idiots, the lot of them!

Author's note: Anyone care to offer a suggestion on how Hermione can become a "Weapon" against Harry? I'd love to read your insights and predictions/guesses as to what might happen. Feedback really helps me develop the plot line and it certainly helps keep the muse alive. She's threatening to go... and I've still got a ways before the end!! Won't you please review? Hope you enjoyed the lengthy installment. Joyeux Noël !