Next day
Seven am, or close enough to it, by Draco's estimate
Heads' common room
A slightly dishevelled Draco yawned down the stairs and shuffled to a settee, where a perfectly-dressed and too-perky-for-the-morning Hermione sat with sheaves of parchments, a teapot and a coffee pot.
"Morning, Malfoy!" Hermione chirped when Draco slouched down amongst the cushions. "You look tired. Care for some coffee? Or tea? I wasn't sure what you drink, so I made both."
Draco swallowed another yawn with effort and held out his hand for coffee. He took a healthy swig of the brew and decided Granger could live another day, as the coffee she produced was pretty good.
Hermione took a genteel sip of her Earl Grey and tapped the parchments with a quill. "So, to order, then. This parchment contains a list of all the prefects, that list contains a list of prefects with time commitments to extra-curricular activities, such as quidditch practice and games…"
Draco stared at Hermione while she prattled on and spun parchments around the coffee table. Eventually she realised she was the only one contributing to the discussion and glanced up to glare at Draco, only to find him glaring at her.
"What's got your knickers in a knot, then?" she demanded, pleased that she finally got to say to him something he'd been saying to her the last one hundred and seventy-seven times over the past six years. Not that she'd been counting.
Draco's glare, if possible, grew even more menacing. "Are you going to completely ignore what happened last night?" he demanded. "Is that how this is going to play out?"
Hermione was very perplexed. "What happened last night?" she asked, bewildered.
Draco could not believe his ears. "Have you completely forgotten that you came into my room last night and refused to leave until I escorted you back to yours and tucked you into bed?"
To Draco's utmost chagrin, the chit just sat there and laughed! "Excellent joke, Malfoy," she snickered. "You almost had me going for a minute."
"It did happen! I assure you; it most certainly did happen!"
Hermione looked at him condescendingly. "I couldn't have gotten into your room, Malfoy, and you couldn't have gotten into my mine. Have you forgotten the wards?"
"They weren't there," Malfoy gritted out.
Hermione stood up. "Well, then, should we test them?" she asked, leading the way up the stairs.
Groaning, Malfoy heaved himself off the settee and slowly followed.
By the time he made it upstairs, Hermione was waiting for him by her bedroom door, arms crossed. "The wards prevent boys from getting into girls' bedrooms, and vice versa," she lectured, as if Draco had never heard this before. "Go on, then. Open the door."
Confidently, Draco tried the door handle, but it refused to move. He rattled it for good measure.
Hermione slapped his hand away and tried it for herself. The door opened easily.
Draco stared at the door, colour rising in his cheeks. How could the wards be working now and not last night?
"Should I test your door, just to make certain?" Hermione asked with a delicate eyebrow arched in the air.
Were last night's nocturnal events just a bizarre dream?
"Malfoy?" she prodded him in the arm. She had sharp fingernails.
Draco reluctantly turned to her. "Um, I must have dreamt it all," he mumbled, still not one hundred percent sure he understood what was going on. He swallowed hard and mumbled "Apologies for losing my temper earlier there."
Hermione was smug in her victory. "It can take time to settle into new places," she suggested, stretching out a hand towards Draco. He flinched, but she just patted him on the arm instead of poking him again. "I'm sure you'll be as right as rain in no time."
"Yeah. No time," Draco repeated on autopilot.
With a flick of her hair, Hermione headed back downstairs. "Now that's all settled, shall we get back to business?"
"Yeah. Business," Draco monotoned, and followed robotically after her.
Throughout the day
Draco yawned his way through Potions, History of Magic, Charms and lunchtime. After lunch, he yawned his way though Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts, where he was too slow to avoid an easy jinx lobbed by Potter. Then he yawned through the lecture Professor Lupin gave him, which made Lupin madder and therefore lectured him for longer.
"Bad night?" Blaise guessed as they left the classroom.
Draco rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't believe – oh, wait a sec, I need to speak to Professor Flitwick," he babbled as he turned on his heel and hustled after the diminutive wizard. "I'll catch up with you at dinner!" he lobbed over his shoulder to a bemused Blaise.
Hmm, Blaise pondered as he headed to the Slytherin dorms to drop off his books. Is Malfoy struggling with the responsibility of being Head Boy? For if that's the case, Blaise thought (like a true Slytherin), I would be more than happy to step in and assume the role alongside Granger, iron knickers or no.
Meanwhile, unaware that his best mate was plotting his replacement as Head Boy, Draco caught up to Flitwick and asked for a moment of his time.
"Of course, dear boy!" the professor replied, all ears and spectacles.
"The wards to the Heads' bedrooms," Draco began, "do they come on and off at certain times?"
The professor looked confused. "Ah, they shouldn't," he replied cautiously. "They should be 'on' all the time, unless you the Head Girl decide to lower the wards to let another person in to their respective rooms." Flitwick waggled his eyebrows to and fro.
Draco ignored the eyebrow-waggling. "You see, I was certain there was a malfunction with the wards last night, but when we checked them this morning, they were working. Maybe I had a really vivid dream," he continued, "but I would feel much better if someone of your experience double-checked them for us, just to make sure."
Flitwick puffed out his chest. "Of course, of course!" he exclaimed. "I'll nip up after dinner, shall I?"
Malfoy scratched the back of his head. "Er, I was wondering if you were able to do it as dinner begins, when Granger is in the Great Hall?" he asked humbly. He leaned down to Flitwick confidentially. "I don't want her to worry unnecessarily, you see."
Flitwick touched his finger to the side of his nose. "Say no more, dear boy," he replied. "So thoughtful of you to think of the Head Girl's feelings this way!"
"Er, thanks, Professor. Thanks very much," Draco mumbled and shuffled off.
After dinner, Draco was ready to call it a day. Cursing the fool that saw fit to locate the Heads' chamber at the top of the one of the tallest towers in Hogwarts, he stepped wearily through the portrait hole, thinking longingly of a bath and a Firewhisky, when a raucous din of voices accosted him.
Merlin's sainted nuts. He forgot it was the Prefects' meeting.
"Malfoy's here! Now everyone, please take a seat," Hermione announced, patting an empty space on a settee next to her for Draco to sit.
As everyone took their places, a note flew into the room and landed in Draco's hand. He opened it up.
"Tested the wards. Both are working as required," Flitwick wrote. "Neither you nor Miss Granger have anything to worry about!"
"What was that?" Hermione asked, eagle-eyed.
"Note from Hooch about practice tomorrow," Draco lied, incendio-ing the note. Well, that settles it, he thought. He must have had a dream.
Bedtime
Clear of conscience, Draco said goodnight to Granger, brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. He'd never been so glad to see an inanimate object before in his life. Stripping down to his underwear, he flopped face-first onto the bed. Then he picked his wand up from the bedside table, moved the furniture in front of his door and switched out the light.
One can never be too careful.
The next morning
Hermione struggled awake, blearily blinking her eyes open. Her bed seemed incredibly hard and cold. Then, as she rose to a sitting position, she realised that she was reclining on her bedroom floor.
What on earth? Hermione thought, thoroughly alarmed. How did she get here?
Struggling up, she contemplated her bed. It looked like it had been slept in, at some point, at least. Maybe she fell out? Something she hadn't done since she was at least five years old?
Grumbling to herself, she stretched out the kinks in her body and gathered her bathroom things together. But as she neared her bedroom door, she stopped; now thoroughly awake and a little bit frightened.
The door was open.
"Everything all right?" Draco asked as Hermione descended, uncharacteristically silently, down the stairs.
She looked at him nervously, and bit her lip. "Did you experience any problems with your door last night?" she asked.
"Nope," Draco replied, checking his cufflinks (yes, cufflinks) and omitting the fact that his door was physically barricaded throughout the night. "In fact, I'm even prepared to say 'you were right.' It takes time to settle into new places, and after last night, I feel great." Then he inspected Hermione's face. "You don't."
"Yeah, thanks," she said sourly. "Anyway, I've been thinking about our conversation yesterday morning, and I might ask Professor Flitwick to check the wards on our doors. To be on the safe side."
Draco opened his mouth, then closed it. "Hardly necessary," he scoffed. "You're capable of casting charms just as well as Flitwick can. Have some faith in yourself."
Hermione's faith supplies, however, were a little low today. "Thank you," she said gravely, "but it can't hurt to get another opinion."
Draco kept his sigh to himself. She'll find out from Flitwick that he's already checked the wards, and at whose behest. At least he will be forewarned when Hermione has a go at him later for 'keeping secrets.'
Great, he thought, as he climbed out of the portrait hole. Some evening entertainment to look forward to.
