Same day

Great Hall

Dinnertime

Blaise Zabini shovelled in massive spoonfuls of boeuf bourguignon while staring in horror at his class schedule for the year. He put it back in his pocket and glanced at Draco, who was chasing the remnants of the delicious casserole in his bowl with French bread.

"So, who's the Head Girl, then?" Blaise asked, breaking off a piece of bread to do the same as Draco.

"I'll give you one guess," Draco mumbled.

Blaise cracked a laugh. "Saint Granger of the Iron Knickers? Oh, dear. Those lovely single bedrooms will be put to no decent use at all."

Draco sipped some pumpkin juice. "She thinks Slytherin House engages in orgies."

"Do threesomes count as orgies?"

Draco pondered. "I could always ask."

"Best not. She'd probably dock us a million House points for debauchery. She'll find a rule against it, I know she will."

"She magnanimously told me I could do whatever I liked in my bedroom, as long as I silenced it."

"Awesome!" Blaise rubbed his hands together. "Fancy organising a christening of your room, then?"

As it happened, Draco did fancy this prospect. He had fond memories of last year, where he and Blaise enjoyed delightful romps in the Room of Requirement with either Luna Lovegood or Cho Chang. Cho graduated last year, but Luna must be around somewhere… She's not at the Ravenclaw table; where could she be? Ah! There she is, at the Gryffindor table, for some reason.

Draco smirked. "Leave it to me."

Later

Near the Ravenclaw Tower

"Psst!"

Luna paused in her perambulations to the Ravenclaw dorms and looked around. Was another basilisk stalking Hogwarts halls again? She rather hoped not. She stepped up her pace, only to find herself tucked into a dark and menacing alcove with none other than the Slytherin Prince himself.

"Malfoy! Thank goodness! Did you hear a hissing sound just now?"

Malfoy blinked. "That was me, darling, trying to get your attention."

Luna pouted. "I suggest you don't sound like a basilisk, for next time."

Draco held on to his temper and switched on the charm. "It's lovely to see you back for another school year," he smarmed. "Now I'm Head Boy, I've finally escaped from the Slytherin dungeons and have found myself a lovely big bed in a lovely big bedroom in the Heads' chambers. Would you like to join myself and Blaise later on in my room for a snifter of Firewhisky and… see where the evening takes us?"

But Luna shook her head with regret. "I'm with Neville now; we got together over the summer," she replied. "I really don't think I can convince him into having an orgy with us; although," she added slightly doubtfully, "I could possibly talk him into watching."

Erk, no, Draco shuddered. Just the thought of Longbottom bumbling naked around his bedroom was enough to cancel all events for tonight.

"You and Longbottom, eh? May I offer my heartiest congratulations and wish you the best of luck of luck for the future! Never mind, we'll still have those Room of Requirement memories, won't we?" Draco was raised to be a gentleman, even if he had just been cockblocked by Longbottom, of all people. Still, he supposed it could have been worse; she could have hooked up with Weasley.

Luna dimpled and rose on her tiptoes to kiss Draco on the cheek, then bade her farewells, warning him to watch out for basilisks on his travels.

Draco shuffled off to Slytherin House to tell Blaise the bad news. Still, there was a sliver of a silver lining, he supposed. Lovegood had a divine body and knew how to use it, but her conversations were definitely hard to keep up with.

Heads' Chamber

Bedtime

When Draco entered the common room, Hermione was rinsing out a cup she had used for tea in the kitchenette, and a house-elf was very upset.

"But Miss Granger," the poor house-elf protested, "its's Whitfoot's job to keep everythings spicks and spans! Your job is to study very hards and leave Hogwarts as the most brainiest witch ever!"

Draco leaned against the closed portrait hole and took in the show.

"That may well be, Whitfoot," Hermione gently admonished, "but it takes no time at all for me to clean a simple tea cup. Perhaps there are other things you can do?"

Whitfoot burst into loud, sobbing tears, which gave Hermione a fright.

Draco sighed and wandered to the kitchenette. "Don't you think it's time for you to give this SPEW malarkey up?" he asked Hermione. "Can't you see you're making things worse by taking house-elf labour away from them? That's what makes them happy, not wearing bilious green lopsided hats knitted by your good but misguided self."

"HATS?" Whitfoot wailed in horror and disappeared with a 'pop.'

Hermione parked her nose in the air. "Says the pureblood wizard who's been waited on hand and foot by house-elves all his life."

"Look, we all know you're going to become Minister of Magic one day. How about you give the elves at Hogwarts their due, treat them kindly BUT let them do their jobs until you're in a position to emancipate the whole bally lot of them and purebloods like me will have to learn how to wash teacups. All right?"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but it was bedtime. Draco might also possibly have a valid point. He might also have possibly have paid her a compliment.

"I'll sleep on it," Hermione said, and grabbed his jumper before he could head upstairs. "One more thing. We need to meet to discuss the sorting of the prefect patrol rosters. Is tomorrow afternoon after final class suitable?"

Draco inspected his jumper for non-existent rents. "'Fraid not, Granger," he said cheerfully. "Quidditch practice."

"No problem," Hermione countered. "How about tomorrow morning before breakfast? Say, 7 o'clock?"

Draco's mouth was agape. How the hell did she one-up him?

"Great! See you tomorrow morning, seven o'clock!" Hermione smiled, and headed up the stairs.

Draco followed, introspecting, but he quickly became distracted by the view of Hermione's bare legs under her skirt ahead of him. Merlin's hairy balls, what a sight to behold! Maybe if he craned his neck a certain way, he could get a peek of her panties –

"Are you staring at my legs, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded.

Draco scoffed, not as convincingly as he would like. "I wouldn't dare filthy my mind with images of the Gryffindor Princess's legs," he threw back.

"See that you don't," she replied primly and disappeared into the bathroom.

Draco continued to his room and flopped down onto his bed, aiming to do much better by taking Granger down a peg or two tomorrow.

Later that night

In his bed, Draco felt fingers of cold premonition skip down his bare back. He shivered; then shivered again. He was cold.

Forcing an eye open, he pulled up the bedspread he'd kicked away earlier in the night and settled back in. Except the cold fingers of premonition were still there, despite the fact he was now toasty warm.

He heaved himself up onto his elbows, and cast a lumos.

Bed – fine.

Bedside table – fine.

Wardrobe – fine.

Desk – fine.

Chair – messy with his uniform clothing, but otherwise fine.

Curtains – fine.

Door – FUCK!

"Granger?" he croaked, staring at the girl in a sleep shirt with a cartoon cat on it, standing silently by his closed door. "How in the name of magic did you get into my room?"

She didn't respond. Her gaze on him was serene.

"Granger, I'm serious. Each bedroom is magically warded to keep visitors out, and I'm certain I didn't make adjustments for you to swan in all hours of the day and night. Well? Has that ugly cat on your night shirt got your tongue?"

Hermione never moved, or spoke.

So, this was what the premonition was warning him about, Draco thought grimly. He reluctantly climbed out of bed (making sure he was wearing underwear, at least) and slowly approached the Hermione Statue. "Granger?" he asked with concern. "Is something wrong?"

She didn't reply.

Draco cautiously extended a finger and gave her a cautious poke in the arm. Well, she's corporeal, at least. He waved a hand in front of her face, but she showed no reaction.

Draco was stumped. What the fuck do I do? he asked himself.

Well, he didn't want her in his bedroom staring at the way he slept all night, that was for sure. He slowly held a hand out to hers, and to his great relief, she accepted it. Phew.

"Granger, we're going back to your bedroom now," he said, and turned her around.

He led her slowly down the corridor, lit only by his wand, and stopped at Hermione's bedroom door. Except that was the problem; she stopped, and he didn't know if her room would accept him. He supposed he could always just shove her in and slam the door closed, but while it was tempting, it wasn't how his mummy raised him.

He lifted a foot and waved it over her threshold. Nothing happened. Stupid wards must not have been set, he grizzled. That will be fixed tomorrow. In the meantime, he led Hermione into her bedroom and to her bed, where he helped her in.

Gods, if anyone in Slytherin could see me now, Draco cringed.

"Go to sleep, Granger," he whispered, and to his relief, her eyes closed.

He tiptoed backwards out of her room, closed the door, scooted back to his room and piled a few pieces of furniture behind his own closed door.

Shivering, he jumped into bed, pulled the bedspread completely over him, and counted runes until he fell into a troubled sleep.

A/N: I'm no longer accepting guest/anonymous reviews. I apologise for any inconvenience this might cause.