Story title: The Law of Attraction

Rating: T

Genre: Romance/Humor

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Summary: Strange things are afoot at Hogwarts, and it's up to Head Boy Draco and Head Girl Hermione to discover why people's fantasies are coming to life!

Beta love to my beta who shall remain anonymous until after the reveals

This is a part of an anonymous contest and will remain so until after the contest has been voted on and reveals are finished.

We would like to acknowledge that all of the writers know that the Harry Potter characters, locations and any plot lines used are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


A clown ambled into the Advanced Arithmancy classroom in the middle of lecture and handed out balloon animals. Most students accepted their hand-shaped poodles and giraffes with nary a glance from their parchment—for this was Hogwarts, after all, and the peculiar was merely part and parcel of their lives.

Later that afternoon, students waded through the first-floor corridors to get to class. Galleons rained down from the ceiling, filling the walkways with shiny gold coins up to their waists. There was utter pandemonium at first as people stuffed every available pocket with loot. They quickly realized the Galleons were fake—and not only that but were made of chocolate. The rest of the day was marked with cranky moods as everyone's sugar levels crashed; though the House Elves had never been more chipper with the amount of chocolate-stained uniforms awaiting their eager, toiling hands.

Over chicken and ham pie, not one but three Donoghan Tremletts—the swoon-worthy bass player for the Weird Sisters—had declared their undying love to various young girls in the Great Hall. It was only then that students suspected something strange was afoot.

Naturally, it fell upon the Head Girl and Head Boy to determine the cause of these goings-on. As the Headmaster put it, "I have the utmost confidence the two of you can put a stop to whatever mischief this is. So, get on with it, and do let me know if it's just another megalomaniac uprising, will you?" Then, he popped a lemon-flavored lolly in his mouth and went on his merry way.

oOo

Later that afternoon, the two Heads—one brunette, one blond—conferred.

"Could it be some kind of curse?" asked the brunette as she jotted down notes. "You think perhaps a latent Dark spell has been unleashed?"

The blond emitted an undignified snort. "Really, Granger? You really think a hallway full of milk chocolate was brought on by Dark magic?"

Hermione Granger shrugged. "You'd think so, too, if you're lactose intolerant." She stepped back and planted a fist on her hip. "Anyway, you're hardly any help, Malfoy!"

Draco Malfoy leaned back on the edge of the counter and examined his perfect cuticles. "I'm working on a list of suspects."

She rolled her eyes. "Saying Harry and Ron's names over and over again won't make them guilty."

"If I think it, it will happen," he said with a flourish of his fingers. "It's called the law of attraction. Haven't you ever read The Secret?" He tutted. "Pick up a book once in a while, Granger, for Merlin's sake. You're supposed to be a model student." Malfoy pushed off the counter of their shared kitchenette and sauntered through their cozy living area to the exit.

"And just where the hell are you going?!"

He graced her with a brilliant smile—though the glint in his silver eyes did something to her insides. Indigestion, likely.

"I'm off to fulfill my duty, Granger. One of us has to figure this out—and, as usual, the brunt of responsibility falls on my manly shoulders."

With a huff, she marched to his side. Her parchment of notes was rolled in her hand. She swatted it at her fellow Head's irksomely broad shoulders. "Don't hurt yourself trying to be a martyr. My shoulders are just as capable of handling burdens as yours."

"I'm sure they are," Malfoy teased. He reached into the space between them to wipe imperceptible dust off her shoulders; she whacked his hands away with an irritated tsk.

"Why don't I start interrogating the usual suspects,"—she straightened her robe—"while you slink off in the shadows, where you're most comfortable, to look for clues?"

"All right," he replied. A lascivious grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "You go have a chat with your best friends, and I'll figure out what's going on." He stepped through the threshold, leaving her suspended between outrage and indignation. At least, that was the most logical reason for the sudden heat in her cheeks. She poked her head out as he progressed down the hall. As Malfoy disappeared around the corner, he called over his shoulder, "I'll come by your room before supper. I'm sure I'd have solved the mystery by then!"

She stomped down the hall in the opposite direction, biting back an aggravated growl.

oOo

"What do you know, Harry Potter?" Hermione squinted at her best friend.

Harry's eyes were bright and rounded underneath his glossy spectacles. His lips were lifted in a soft, serene smile. "Know about what?" he asked sweetly.

What a load of bollocks.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Gods, she could only imagine Malfoy's triumphant smirk when he found that Harry was involved in this nonsense after all. "All right, out with it!" she snapped. "What's with all the weird happenings around the castle?"

Harry shrugged one shoulder.

She stepped into his personal space until a millimeter separated the tips of their noses. "Listen here, Harry." Her voice dropped to a frigid level. "You're going to tell me what the hell is going on, or else."

He gulped and blinked at her with trepidation. "Or else, what?" he whispered.

The tail of her eyebrow twitched. Quickly, Harry divulged his secret.

After he spilled his guts, Hermione trudged back to her room. It was nearly suppertime—Malfoy would be arriving at her bedroom door soon. She needed as much time to thicken her skin if she was to withstand his triumphant gloating.

She was in her room for a quarter hour when there was a rapping at her door. She opened it and found a smirking Malfoy just beyond the threshold.

"Granger." His voice caressed her name. "I've been looking for you."

oOo

As he entered the Room of Requirement, Draco noted that he simply must congratulate Rhonda Byrne in the efficacy of the methods outlined in her self-help book—projecting thoughts into the universe truly did produce spectacular results.

Steam billowed from six large cauldrons, filling the long room with a cotton haze. Rows of small glass vials filled a rectangular table. Some vials were empty; others were filled with a pearly violet potion. Standing over the vials were two knuckleheads whose voices were raised in argument.

Draco scoffed. "I knew it!" He pointed his wand at the Boy Wonder and his Sidekick Extraordinaire. "What the hell are you two doing?"

Potter and Weasley snapped to attention. Potter groaned into his hands while Weasley sneered, "Merlin, not you, too!"

Potter nudged his friend in the rib. "Better him than Hermione," he mumbled. "That's what I'm saying, Ron! She knows what we're doing, and it's only a matter of time before she comes here! She says that if she finds our lab before we 'clean up our mess,' we better have a jar picked out to live out the rest of term."

"What's she going to do,"—Weasley's voice dropped—"Transfigure us into beetles?" He and the Scarred Marvel shared worried glances.

"And just what is going on here?" Draco asked, offended at being forgotten.

As they hurriedly packed up the vials and cauldrons, the Idiots explained. "Fred and George have been upping the prices on their Patented Daydream Charms, you see. So, we thought we'd make our own versions!" Potter glanced at him sheepishly. "We may have added a bit too much Wormwood in the last batch. Caused random fantasies to come to life all over the castle."

Draco sniffed the air—and recoiled at the realization. "Bloody hell, with the amount of Wormwood you put in, it's amazing the Forbidden Forest isn't high on your Daydream potion!" He huffed. "So, you say Granger knows what you're up to now?"

They nodded.

With a victorious grin, he chuckled. "Perfect! I can't wait to tell her, 'I told you so!'" He waved over to them. "Er, make sure to get rid of all this, will you? I've got a Head Girl to annoy!"

oOo

Draco pounded on the heavy wooden door. It creaked open; Granger peeked through the narrow crack with suspicion.

"Finally. Granger," he crooned, drawing out the first syllable of her name. Smug superiority colored his tone as he anticipated her reaction to his news. "Oh, I do hope you won't be terribly disappointed about this."

She rolled her eyes as she pulled the door open to admit him. "Well, I wouldn't say I was disappointed—just taken by surprise. But just hurry up this time, all right? I'm expecting someone to come by very soon."

Draco glanced around. The room was usually tidy whenever he passed by her open door and caught a glimpse of the cozy space. Not this evening, though.

His eyes flicked from the rumpled bedsheets to the Head Girl's disheveled curls. He pressed his lips together to keep a covetous snarl from escaping. After a moment, he managed to say, "I apologize. I'll keep my gloating brief so as to not keep you from your company."

Granger's eyes darted over his face; then over his shoulders, down his torso. Lingered over his pants—he shifted uneasily at her assessing gaze over that region—all the way to his dragonhide loafers. When her eyes pulled up to his face once again, her cheeks were as deep red as the royal rubies.

"Erm—Malfoy—" She coughed. "No! I mean, you're not—I was just—What are you doing here?" Her fingers flew up to her cheeks.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. "I told you I'd come here before supper to rub it in your face when I figured out what was going on—which I did, by the way. I was totally right, it was,"—he threw his hands up in the air in bewilderment as he glanced at her cheeks—"I'm sorry, but why are you so red?"

Granger sputtered. She cleared her throat and she opened her mouth—needlessly, it seemed, as the answer to Draco's question waltzed through the open doorway.

"All right, I'm back," the intruder said. His white shirt was unbuttoned down to his sternum, and the ends of his undone, green-striped tie hung over his shoulders like a stole.

Draco's jaw fell when he recognized the new arrival. Giddiness bubbled in his chest as he leered at the mortified brunette. "Oh, Granger," Draco admonished.

His doppelganger gazed at them haughtily. "What's this?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Granger, I know you can't get enough of me, but really, I'm not one to share."

Granger crumpled to the floor with a horrified moan. Draco burst out with laughter.

"Oh, gods," he wheezed as he fought to control his diaphragm. "This—is just—oh, you never fail to surprise me, Granger!" Draco strolled around his double. "Interesting. Is this really how you see me?" He evaluated Fantasy Draco's physique—shoulders a tad bit wider than his own above a toned torso with unblemished skin. Draco smirked. "You know, I have a scar right here." He traced his finger from his right collarbone to below his left nipple where the apex of his heart thudded against his chest.

Still curled up on the floor, Hermione glanced up. Her eyelids lifted in surprise and her lips parted infinitesimally.

"Hey!" yelped Fantasy Draco. He pulled his shirt wider to reveal a newly-formed scar on his chest.

"That's almost like it," Draco murmured. He pinned her down with a heated gaze. "You know, for accuracy's sake, you could evaluate the scar for yourself," he said carefully. "You appreciate precision, and I'm always supportive of my fellow students' endeavors in the pursuit of knowledge." He flashed her a grin in challenge.

It must have stirred her inner Gryffindor; after a deep breath, she straightened up and met his gaze unblinkingly.

"Granger," Fantasy Draco whined as his head swiveled between her and the real Draco. "Oh, come on!"

"Oh, sod off!" Granger said with a flap of her wrist.

Fantasy Draco flickered out of existence with an incensed huff.

Silence briefly followed his departure. Then, Draco closed the distance between them. "So,"—he began—"what would you like first? Gloating? Or,"—he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone—"a lesson in anatomical correctness?"

Her cheeks glowed once again—but it was nothing compared to the heat in her gaze. "Dealer's choice," she whispered.

Draco chuckled. "All right." He dropped his hand, only to grasp both of hers. "Why don't we take care of this pesky Daydream Charm knock-off—I'd hate for any more of your Fantasy Dracos to interrupt us,"—she rolled her eyes but stayed quiet—"And once we're done dealing with the Wonder Twins, we can come back here,"—he lowered his head so his lips grazed hers like a whisper—"and I can show you that the real thing is much better than any fantasy."

Granger's eyes flashed with passion and mischief and defiance. "You're on."


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