Warning: humour and alcohol ahead.

Chapter 2

Skirts, Pretzels, and Flying Pillows

She sat in the Tower's Common Room, feet propped up on the back of the sofa, head hanging off of the edge in yet another of her uncomfortable-looking comfortable positions. Her skirt threatened to slip and fall at any second, held only in place by her knees, and he waited patiently for the material to slide down her skin and expose those creamy legs of hers that he loved so much.

Tilting her head just a bit, she looked over to her watcher and arched a brow in his direction, frowning up at him just as he flashed her a bright, 'innocent' smile.

"Draco, stop trying to will my skirt down."

He continued to grin at her, smirking as she frowned, and sat back in the armchair, crossing his arms over his chest in a patient gesture. "I'm not trying to will it down, I'm just waiting for you to make a wrong move and cause it to fall."

Scowling at him, she tucked her hands under her knees, holding the skirt in place at the same time. "You are a perverted prat, did you know that?"

"Perverted, yes, but only with you, but I am not a prat." Fixing the cuffs of his grey oxford, he looked over to Hermione with a knowing grin. "Besides, aren't we supposed to be 'shopping' for this New Year's Party affair?"

"Yes," she replied, closing her eyes as blood rushed to her head. She didn't know why, but it felt so good.

"So why aren't you getting up?" He continued to eye her odd position, a look of mixed confusion and delight crossing his face.

"You want me to be honest?" She didn't even move; how could that position be comfortable, he had no idea. She seemed to enjoy the strangest positions and the perverted side of his mind wondered if it went the same way with other things.

"Of course." He slowly drew his wand, grateful that she kept her eyes closed.

"I honestly don't feel like it," she replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I'm too comfortable. You can go get the stuff on your own."

"Why? So that, by the time I get back, you'll be hiding somewhere in the castle and I'll have to go to this damn party alone?"

"Not at all."

"You're a horrible liar, Hermione."

"I just don't feel like going down to Hogsmeade; it's cold outside."

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his eyes at her childishness. And she had the gall to call him a child?

"It's winter, it's supposed to be cold. Besides, we don't even have to leave the school."

He hid the wand just in time as her eyes flung open, one hand moving out from under her knees to point a finger in his direction. "We are not involving the House Elves in this."

"Why is that? It's their duty to serve us food and drink isn't it?"

"But they are not supposed to serve alcohol to underage students!"

Draco rolled his eyes as her pathetic excuse for an argument. "Smartest witch of all time, right? Even I can see a flaw in that."

"And what is it, Dumbest Wizard of all time?" she snapped back, wishing that he were closer so that she could hit him in the knee.

"Just lie, tell them that it's for students of age and they will be none the wiser. If there is a complaint, I will just force Seamus and Dean, the party-planners of this little shindig, to admit that they had gone into town and bought the alcohol."

Frowning at him, she let out an exasperated sigh. "And what are we supposed to do? If McGonagall comes in and finds a group of First Years completely sloshed, who do you think she'll blame?"

"The First Years?"

"No, you dolt, us! I can't just sit back and watch as underage students drink alcohol."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco wished that Hermione would be willing to bend the rules a little bit more at times. "How about," he began, "we tell the underage students that the alcohol is for the older ones? That way, if they get caught drinking, it won't be our fault."

Turning her eyes to stare at the fireplace as she contemplated the solution, Hermione furrowed her brow as she watched the flames – which she had decided to turn a brilliant crimson for the sake of spite – as she went over the pros and cons of his suggestion.

Sighing softly in resignation, she closed her eyes and nodded. "Alright, we'll put up a sign saying that no underage students should be drinking."

"But you have to promise me that you won't hand out detentions or take off points if you catch a student drinking!" Draco added, knowing fully well that if he didn't mention it now, he would never have a chance to say it.

"Can I at least reprimand them?"

"A little bit, but you can't kick them out."

Heaving another sigh, she wriggled her feet and shrugged in agreement. "Okay, fine. When are we leaving to go get the Firewhiskey?"

"Oh, I'm getting the hell out of here in just…a…second…" he said, pulling back out his wand.

"What do you…Draco!!!" she ended on a scream as he waved his wand and willed her skirt to fall down to cover her face. "You prat! You pervert! You arse!"

"I really love those orange knickers on you," he said, voice moving away as she struggled with her skirt.

She let out a rather loud expletive that had Draco tsking as he moved closer to the doorway, watching with a sadistic smile as she struggled to remove her skirt from her face and not fall off of the couch at the same time.

Thump!

She landed on the floor in a rather awkward position, legs practically hanging over her hand, almost as though she were now in an upside down seated position, cursing loudly.

"Draco bloody Malfoy, you get your skinny arse over here and help me!" she shouted, trying her best to get out of the position without injuring herself.

His eyes glowed with laughter as he held his stomach, leaning against the wall, watching with absolute mirth as she continued to struggle, knowing fully well that, as soon as she was free, she would come and make him pay. For the time being, however, he would enjoy the scene.

"You jerk!" she shrieked, finally getting to a standing position, scrambling for her wand as she sprinted for the door. "I'm going to get you for that!"

He was out of the door and in the hallway in seconds, running as fast as he could towards the kitchens, praying that she wouldn't be able to catch up to him.

He laughed the whole way there.

It had been a long time since anything worthy of a party happened at the school; the mood had been so down, so despairing, for so long that the simple notion of a party was lost amidst the depression caused by the war. Now, however, the party atmosphere slowly began to consume the air the students breathed, there were little skips to their steps as they announced loudly that they had been 'cordially invited' to attend the Gryffindor New Year's party. Girls were flocking about, chattering away about what they should wear or who they might meet, boys were chatting about Firewhiskey and who they might be kissing when the bell tolled midnight.

Needless to say, the school was slowly becoming a more animated, excited place.

Even Hermione was getting into the spirit, unable to stop herself from smiling as she walked through the hallways with Draco, trying her best to hide the several bottles of Firewhiskey they had in their hands.

She hadn't caught up to him, unfortunately, so she knew that he would have to deal with the consequences later on for his little stunt earlier that day, but for now, she was not about to let anything ruin her good mood.

She, the bookworm of Hogwarts, was going to attend her first real party, and she was actually looking forward to it. Maybe it was the atmosphere, perhaps it was because there was finally some inter-house unity going on in the school; all she knew was that she had never been more excited in her life.

"What do you wear to these kinds of things?" she asked suddenly, tilting her head back to stare at Draco.

He shrugged; tightening his grip on the bottles as several Ravenclaw fifth years eyed them hungrily. "We should have really charmed these to look like something else," he muttered distractedly.

Rolling her eyes, she sent a glare towards the Ravenclaw students before turning back to the man beside her. "Did you even hear my question?"

"Of course I did."

"What did I say?"

He sent a grin her way and replied in a falsetto voice, mimicking hers to almost a T if it weren't for the fact that his was much lower than hers, "'What do you wear to these kinds of things?' Honestly, Hermione…oomph…What was that for?"

Removing her fist from his kidney, she shook her head, sending her hair away from her face as she sent a smile his way. "I do not sound like that."

"You didn't have to hit me!"

"You insulted me."

"It still didn't merit physical punishment!"

"You charmed my skirt!"

"You were asking for it!"

"I was not!"

"Were too!"

"I was absolutely not! I was simply comfortable."

"You were most definitely asking for it, and I have no idea how that damn position could be considered comfortable!"

"What position?"

Both heads turned to face a gaggle of girls standing nearby, most of which were giggling loudly, faces bright red as they watched the Head Boy and Girl argue loudly in the middle of the hallway. The leader of the group, a Hufflepuff fourth year, was grinning broadly.

"None of your business," Draco snapped as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I was sitting in a really weird position on the couch," she replied with a shrug, "and because men are not flexible at all and do not understand the female body, he just couldn't believe that it was comfortable."

The leader blushed brightly as she spoke the next words, causing Draco to send a furious glare her way; "And what kind of position was it?"

Sighing loudly, she knew that she had to answer honestly or the rumour mill would be working overtime to ensure that every student 'knew' about Hermione, Draco, and their 'positions.'

"Feet on the back, head hanging on the edge; you know, upside down. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to get back to our duties," she said rather harshly, gesturing to Draco to keep walking.

They had walked for no more than a minute before they heard loud, shrieking laughter erupting from down the hallway, most likely caused by one of the girls' questions whether one could be upside down while doing the deed.

"I'm going to kill somebody soon," he said through gritted teeth, quickening his steps to get the hell out of the hallway as soon as humanely possible.

"I'd rather you not," Hermione replied, avoiding the gaze of a shocked Gryffindor, "I don't think it would look very good to have an ex-Death Eater killing random students because they were giggling."

Letting out a rather loud sigh, most likely to avoid cursing, Draco turned to face her as they made their way down another hall. "Don't you get it? They're going to tell the whole school some fucked up version of what you just said. Everybody, by the end of the week, will be talking about us and positions!"

Her cheeks flushed a bright red and she shifted uncomfortably, hugging the bottles closer to her chest. "I know that," she snapped. "I also know that it won't be the end of the world if a few students say that we were fighting."

"No, it's perfectly normal for us to fight about positions and skirts in the middle of a hallway," he replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Sighing heavily, she turned to face Aphrodite, "Jitterbug," she said, and the statue moved aside to grant them entrance. As they stepped past the threshold, she turned her head to continue their conversation. "To be honest, I don't think it matters what we were arguing about, it's the fact that we were arguing. It is considered perfectly normal for us to be at each other's throats."

"I know that," he replied, placing the bottles on the table, "but I just don't think that the topic of discussion would be considered appropriate for an argument between enemies."

Placing her bottles beside his, sending a quick glare to the several alcoholic beverages on the table, she crossed her arms and sent Draco a mixed look. "And who says that we're supposed to be public enemies? You've been sitting at the Gryffindor table for a week now, we've been living in the same quarters for half of a year, you'd think that the students might realize that we've developed a civilized relationship."

"Yes, some students do think that we've being more civilized," he replied on a sigh, opening the fridge to pull out a jug of milk, "but some students like to think in the old ways."

"Like the Slytherins?"

He actually sent a glare her way, looking away only to pull out a glass. "You know, as well as I do, that not all Slytherins believe in the same Purist attitudes that Pansy and Lucius did."

She noted and filed away that he had not called the man his father, but had instead called him by his first name.

"You also know," he continued, "that there are several Gryffindors and other students who do not believe in the notion of an ex-Death Eater. Hell, some of them still believe that Snape was bad to the very end."

"But he wasn't!"

"I know that," Draco said, leaning against the counter to face Hermione, "but, I heard a few Ravenclaws talking the other day about Snape and, apparently, he had been so evil that he made Voldemort look like a cute little puppy."

Rubbing her face, she exhaled loudly, closing her eyes against the pain that threatened to wash over her at the thought of students defiling the memory of their teacher. Certainly, Snape had not been the greatest character of all time, but he had fought, to the very end, for the Order, for their freedom, for the memory of Harry's mother, the one woman he had ever loved. Harry thought that she didn't know, Harry thought that she never once knew why Snape couldn't withstand the thought of the boy dying, but she knew.

It had been an accident, really; she'd been waiting for him for an extra credit session, when she had seen the Pensive and curiosity had taken hold of her. To make a long story short, Snape found her shortly afterward, crying her eyes out, sobbing about love and other nonsensical things. He had been rather ticked, to say the least, but, in the end, she was fortunate to receive only a short series of detentions and to make a vow not to repeat anything she had seen to anyone.

The vow had been broken after his death; but she still kept true to her word. If the man had wanted the world to know, he would have ensured that the world had known.

"I can't believe some people," she sighed loudly. "Everyone seems to have to have a say in things, they always misinterpret or act so…disgustingly biased."

Draco shrugged, downing the milk in one large gulp, before turning to rinse it off. "It's the way the world is, Hermione; I thought you, of all the people, would have figured that out by now. We listen to what we want to listen to and ignore the rest, whether it's the truth or not."

"I know," she replied, moving over to the couches, "but it still bothers me."

Draco moved to begin piling the bottles into the fridge, quite grateful that nothing disappeared once it was placed in the cold confines; it was only the reverse. Hermione collapsed onto the couch, watching the fire crackle merrily, listening to the faint jingling of the bottles as they clanged against one another each time Draco moved them.

"So," she said after a moment's silence, "I know it seems odd of me to change the subject like this, but…what do I wear to a party?"

He looked over to send a smile to the mass of hair just poking out at the end of the couch, a few curls hanging over to stop just inches from above the ground.

"I suppose you could always wear Slytherin colours; show your pride."

"Bah!" she scoffed, lifting an arm to wave it dismissively in the air. "It's a Gryffindor party!"

"Just about every student in the school has been invited," he pointed out, turning around to open a cupboard, revealing a bag of pretzels. "So it shouldn't matter what colour you wear."

"I want to be neutral," she sighed. "I don't want to wear red or green."

"But aren't those supposed to be festive colours?" he asked, pulling at the bag to open it.

"I really don't care," she muttered, lifting a leg to hang it over the back of the couch. "I just want to know what kind of clothes to wear."

He yanked harder at the bag, cursing under his breath that it would not yield to his strength. "You could always wear a little skirt and tiny top."

"I am not a tart!"

Rolling his eyes, he heaved out a sigh of frustration. "Just wear a pair of jeans and a shirt; it's not like you're going to some fancy supper." He tugged harder at the corners, wishing that the damn bag would open.

"Really? I don't have to wear nice clothes? I mean, we are going to a New Year's party…" she trailed off, lost in thought, wondering just how she could make a simple pair of jeans and a shirt look sophisticated yet casual enough.

"You could go in your naked if you want, for all I care, just don't go wearing some bloody ball gown or an outfit reserved for weddings or that sort of bollocks."

"I suppose I could wear a nice pair of pants and add a casual but nice top," she said softly, no longer listening to a word he said.

"That's what I told you!" he

snapped; face reddening with frustration directed to the bag of pretzels. "Blimey, this bloody bag won't fucking…" POP! "BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione jerked up at the loud explosion, eyes wide as she stared around the room for the source of the sound. Turning, she found Draco in the kitchen; half covered in pretzels, a bag unceremoniously torn wide open in his hands. She slapped a hand to her lips in order to muffle the laughter, eyes squinting and body rocking as she tried her hardest not to guffaw at the sight before her.

"You…you uh…have something in your hair…" she choked out, eyes glowing with mirth.

His response was glaring at her before letting out a sound of annoyance. "The bloody bag wouldn't open," he grumbled, reaching into his pocket for his wand to clean up the mess.

She couldn't help it; she burst into laughter, hugging her sides and leaning on the couch for support, unable to get the image of Draco with pretzel-covered hair out of her mind. Damn it, he even had a pretzel stuck in the collar of his oxford.

"It's not that funny," he chuckled softly, unable to hold back his own laughter at the stupidity of the situation.

"At least it wasn't flour," she managed to gasp out, falling back as she laughed; an image of a flour-covered Draco replaced the pretzel-covered one.

"Bugger off," he laughed out, leaning back on the counter to finally laugh aloud at the scenario.

"It's karma," she said, slowly coming off the high as her laughter faded, finally able to properly catch her breath.

"Karma?"

"You deserved it," she giggled, sticking her head out from the end of the couch with a sly grin on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"You flipped my skirt."

"And what does that have anything to do with this?"

Slowly, she lifted her hand, revealing her wand clasped tightly in her grip. A few giggles escaped her lips as she twirled the wand, watching as his face went from confused to annoyed in a millisecond.

"You did this?" he cried, waving around the opened bag of pretzels, sending more flying about the kitchen.

"I was waiting for the right moment."

"Why you…you bloody…I'm going to get you for this!" he shouted, dropping the bag and sprinting to the couch.

She rolled off of it in seconds and ran towards her bedroom, intending to lock him out. Taking the stairs two at a time, she laughed loudly as he chased after her, squealing as he caught her at the top of the stairs.

"You are so in trouble," he muttered, lowering his mouth to capture hers in a passionate kiss.

"If this is the punishment," she said softly, cupping his face in her hands, "then I don't mind."

He chuckled into her mouth and pushed her into the nearest bedroom, intending to thoroughly punish her.

"How do I look?"

"Fine."

Hands met hips as a pointed glare was sent to the blond head hiding behind a book. "You didn't even look."

"Yes, I did."

"What colour shirt am I wearing?"

"I know that you changed into a pair of bright pink knickers."

"What does that prove?"

"It means I was paying attention," Draco replied, lifting a hand to emphasize his point.

"What colour shirt am I wearing?" Hermione repeated, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Green?" There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice as he said it.

"No."

"Bollocks."

"It is not," she replied, rolling her eyes; "I told you that I'm not wearing a green shirt, which means you didn't even look."

"Do I have to?" he whined, clearly enjoying irritating the poor girl.

"You either tell me how I look or I hex your penis off, how does that sound?"

"It doesn't sound very nice at all," he muttered, letting out a sound of resignation. Dog-earing the page, missing the way she winced at the mistreatment of the poor book, he lowered the text to his lap and stared at Hermione.

She had managed to tug on a pair of simple, dark blue jeans that looked casual yet sophisticated, and, as a shirt, she had slipped on a simple silver three-quarter sleeve top that hung loosely around her shoulders and flared out to form bell-like sleeves. It hung loosely around her waist, but clung just right to accent her hourglass figure.

He arched a brow at her frizzy hair hanging wild around her face, a strange contrast to the clean cut outfit she wore.

"I highly suggest that you fix your hair," he said, gesturing to her with the book.

Sighing, she crossed her arms, sending him a pointed stare. "Other than my hair?" she snapped. "And just so you know, it's your fault it's like this," she added.

"How is it my fault?"

"A certain bloody idiot decided that he likes to grab it in a moment of passion and run his fingers through it so much it gets abnormally frizzy," she replied, continuing to glare at him.

Shaking his head, he opened up the book, going back to his page. "You look nice, Hermione."

"Really?"

"Yes, now go fix your hair."

Resisting the urge to go over and kick him in the shins, she let out a loud huff before marching back up the stairs, intending to take his breath away the next time she cam back down. She had secretly hoped that he would gawk a bit; it wasn't every day that Hermione Granger wore a fancier top that clung in the right places, but she had to remind herself that Draco wasn't like any other guy.

Grateful that it was still a few hours before the party was due to start, she began the gruelling process of fiddling with her hair, pulling out various potions and opening a book Ginny had given her on beauty treatment. Normally, she wouldn't be looking through it, but she wanted Draco on his knees, begging for her the next time she walked down, and she had to fix the hair his damn enticing fingers had ruined.

Well…it had always been naturally curly, but those fingers just got rid of the curls and left a frizzy look in their wake.

After a good half hour of fiddling and toying, she finally managed to tame her hair and the result what rather pleasant. However, she was not completely pleased and began the process of further toying and playing with her hair. Another half hour passed, the silence of her concentration broken only by a few shouts from Draco saying that women took way too long to get ready.

Finally, she smiled at the end result, quite pleased with both the book Ginny had given her and her own little personal touches added here or there. Reaching over, she grabbed a can of Muggle hairspray to keep the final result in tact before staring at the scarce make-up containers on her dresser.

She wasn't really one to wear make-up; she always thought that she could live life without it, be happy no matter how she looked, but maybe tonight, it wouldn't hurt to add a little mascara and a touch of rouge…

Draco was still reading when she came back down, although he was a lot further in the book than he had been earlier, and she paused for a moment to admire the image he gave off. Seated comfortably in an arm chair, legs stretched out in front of him, mismatched socks covering his feet, he looked so relaxed and undeniably delectable. His hair fell gently around his face, an occasional strand daring to touch his eyes before he pushed it away, grey eyes focused entirely on the book before him, almost with a glazed look in them, as though he was completely immersed in the storyline.

His scent wafted through the air, a scent that she had categorized as purely Draco; at some point in time, some grand Creator decided to make sure that Draco smelt like the finest combination of purely male musk softened with a touch of vanilla and a smell that could only be identified as outdoors' autumn. It has some crispness to it, like a combination of newly fallen rain and cool air that sent a myriad of smells in the breeze. She wasn't sure how a man came to smell like it, but he did, and she loved every little bit of it. She had, originally, expected him to smell like mint or something related to the colour green, but she preferred the fall scent, making her think of multiple bright, passionate colours swirling around to blur her vision. It perfectly melded with his personality.

"Well, are you going to read all night?"

"You look fine."

Rolling her eyes, she lifted her wand and sent the nearest pillow flying into his face, not at all counting on the fact that he had a book right in front of his nose. There was a loud crack and an even louder curse, followed by her laughter cutting short as she saw his nose bleeding profusely.

"What the hell was that for?"

Fumbling for her wand, she made her way over to him, unsure whether she should keep laughing or if she should apologize profusely. She decided to go in between, apologizing between her laughter.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she chuckled out, not sounding sorry at all, "I didn't factor in the book…I didn't…think…"

"Hermione not thinking…damn, that's a bad thing," he muttered, sitting back as she cleaned the blood and performed a basic healing spell to fix his nose. "You broke my bloody nose…again!"

"This time it was an accident!" she snapped back, trying to focus all of her attention on healing the wound.

"You still attacked me."

She poked his cheek with her wand harsher than necessary to soak up the blood, glaring at him. "You didn't even listen to me."

"I said that you look fine!" he cried, wanting to squirm out of her embrace, feeling more like a child than a grown man.

"I didn't ask you how I looked," she replied, cupping his chin to tilt his head back and examine the damage and healing. "There, you look fine."

Glaring at her, he pulled out his wand, transfiguring the pillow into a large mirror and began examining his face. Poking and pulling at his nose, quite content that there was no more pain; he only moved back to stare at her once he was satisfied that she hadn't permanently disfigured him.

"My nose is only slightly crooked, but I suppose it will have to do; you are an amateur after all."

"Oh, sod off," she snapped, smacking his shoulder.

Pinching his nose and turning it from side to side, he transfigured the mirror back into the pillow and picked up his book, dog-earing the page. "You're lucky nothing got on my shirt."

"Why? Because it's made of fairy silk and unicorn hair?" She made her way over to the kitchen now, slipping her wand into her back pocket.

"Everyone knows that fairies do not make silk and unicorn is reserved for wands only due to its magical properties," Draco replied, running a hand through his hair.

"Very well, it's made of fine Egyptian silk cultivated and enchanted by Veelas."

"Wrong; Veelas don't enjoy doing some menial tasks; they would get bored and probably kill someone." He paused after his sentence, teeth moving to chew on his mouth as he watched her back. "You did your hair…"

Sighing loudly, she opened the fridge and began pulling out the bottles of Firewhiskey, wishing for a few Butterbeer as well and adding them to the pile. "Yes, I did."

Blinking several times, he couldn't get the image out of his mind. He loved Hermione's wild hair, absolutely loved it to death, the way it would not be tamed, how it always cascaded down her back in chaotic curls, the way it frizzed after a particularly passionate session, almost as though the intensity had electrified it. But now…it was as though she had reached a mutual agreement with the curls. They had softened into waves, curling at the tips, sliding down her back in undulating, golden-brown locks. There was no frizz, nothing standing out of place, just smooth, long curls that hung around her face and down her back.

"I like it," he managed to choke out as he imagined himself running his fingers through her soft hair. Slowly, he got up and made his way over to her, quite pleased that she kept her back to him.

"Thank you," she said, pulling out bottle after bottle, muttering something under her breath that sounded very much like, "Who the hell is going to drink all of this? We got way too much. Bloody mental…the whole lot of them…"

Slowly, so as to not scare her, he slid his hands over her hips, rubbing the satiny material of her shirt as she let out a quiet gasp of surprise. Leaning forward, he pressed his face against her hair, almost purring at the soft sensation of the smooth curls against his flesh. The scent of her shampoo – a delightful combination of pomegranate and berries – wafted to his nose and he closed his eyes as pleasure coursed through him. Those scents were so like her, combined with a smell that made him think of flowers blooming on a rainy spring day. They permeated his senses, filling his body as he took in every smell, nuzzling her hair as calmness overwhelmed him.

"I…Draco…?"

"I love the way you smell," he murmured, pressing his thumbs against her hipbones, urging her body to press back against his. He trailed his lips through her hair, finding her ear as he moved to the side of her head. "So sweet…so good…"

Her lips twitched into a smile of delight as she leaned back into him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. "You don't smell too bad yourself."

Rolling his eyes and letting out a rather uncharacteristic snort, he lowered his lips to the spot right behind her ear. "You are amazing with romantic comments, Hermione."

She shivered at the feel of his lips on her skin and knew that if she didn't sneak out of his grasp soon, they wouldn't be going to any party and she would have to re-do her hair.

Shimmying in his embrace, she turned to face him, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. "You always smell nice," she murmured, lowering her lids to look at him through a lidded gaze. "But, Mr. Malfoy, I do believe that we do not have time to engage in extra-curricular activities at this time; I do not think that the Gryffindor house will appreciate us not showing up."

He wanted to deepen the kiss, wanted to plunder her mouth, to plunder her body right there and then, but reason reminded him that she made a good point. Reason, he realized, was usually a thorn in his side.

Thinking up several creative curses and expletives, he heaved a sigh and pulled away, only after stealing one more kiss.

"This had better be a good party."

Smiling to herself, she turned to resume her earlier task of removing every single bottle from the fridge. "Gryffindors know how to throw a party."

"I don't think that they'll be able to beat any Slytherin bashes." He moved to help her, pulling out a thick bag from the cupboard, casting extendable and non-breakable charms over it.

"Just you wait and see," she promised, glancing over to him as he began placing the bottles in the bag. Frowning suddenly, she eyed him up and down, arching a brow. "You're not wearing that, are you?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"It's green…"

"Forest green," he corrected, gesturing to his oxford, purposely trailing his fingers to where the top few buttons were undone to show off some of his splendid chest.

Rolling her eyes, she reached out a stabbed him in the stomach with her finger. "I thought that we were going for neutral colours. The only thing neutral about your clothes is your jeans." Although, she could easily point out that blue was the colour for Ravenclaw, but that didn't matter in this case.

"You're wearing a silver shirt," he said, gesturing to her torso with a bottle.

"Silver is a more neutral colour than green."

"No it isn't…silver and green are both Slytherin colours." His eyes widened and he let out an exaggerated gasp. "Why you little lovebird! You love me so much that you're willing to wear my House colours? Is this your way of letting the world know that we shag each other on a daily basis?"

Her fist made contact with his liver this time, earning a loud grunt him as she huffed loudly. "You are such a prat," she said through chuckles.

"But you love me."

"Alas, I believe I do."

Done Chapter 2!!!!!!! So happy.

I actually had to restart and rewrite the entire beginning of this chapter (I had already written four pages), because I had altered the ending of the last scene with Draco and Hermione (at the Gryffindor table) in the first chapter.

Urgh.

So. What do you think will happen at this New Year's Party? How are Draco and Blaise going to be 'initiated'? Will Draco finally get to see the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor?

Who knows!

Review overview!

Adoration/love = much appreciated and encouraged, as it helps me get through the gruelling days of school and homework and gives me the strength to keep writing.

Critical criticism/editing = very much appreciated. Please, do not be afraid to list any mistakes I've made, I really do like it when people do because it helps me improve as a writer. Don't be afraid to be a bit critical as well; I can take your criticism so long as you don't aim to make me cry (which would just be MEAN!)

Flames = I shall use them to increase the already raging inferno that is the fire of passion between Hermione and Draco. SO MUCH PASSION!!!!!!!!!!! (Hell you can even post a fake flame – the more flames I get, the more lemons I plan on posting to SPITE YOU!!!)

Thank you for reading!

By the way, it may take some time to update due to school work and I'm working on a Halloween'ish challenge, as well as Leave Out All the Rest. So please be patient. Thank you.