Draco's Delicate Condition

Chapter 6 - Showdowns

It was only three weeks since the appearance of Professor Snape's spider house; three long, aggravating weeks. No one liked the spiders. In truth, not even Professor Snape liked the spiders. The leggedy creatures were noisy, smelly and dangerous to handle. At least twice a week some hapless student was spider bitten, spider stung or spider spat and reported to the school infirmary for treatment. Madame Pomfrey gave Snape a piece of her mind every single time she ran across him, demanding the spider potions experiment end; no such luck. The glass structure seemed to be in permanent residence in Snape's dungeon classroom. The sound of the massive spiders skittering up the walls of their glass enclosure, and careening downward on silken strands landing with disgusting audible splats was a constant sound in the classroom.

Of all the students that hated the spiders - and that was all of them - no one hated the spiders more or suffered more than Ron Weasley. Early on, Hermione and Harry hoped that Ron would grow used to the ball of hairy-legged spiders. Perhaps the exposure would prove to be a good thing if it meant Ron got over his phobia. But by the end of the second week it was abundantly clear that accustoming Ron to the spiders was only a little less likely than Snape donning pink taffeta with matching toe shoes for lessons.

Professor Snape also hated the spiders but loved the effects the disgusting creatures had on his pupils any whom could be fully controlled with just a threat of ordering them to clean out the spider cage or feed the arachnids. Feeding the spiders made Hagrid's Blast-ended Skrewt lessons seem like lessons in bottle-feeding newborn lambs.

The class with the exception of some notable Slytherin incorrigibles was generally well behaved except one little thing; Snape tolerated the throwing of spit balls. The truth of it was that the scraping the cement-like dried objects provided excellent punishments for the numerous detentions that Snape meted out - largely to Gryffindor students - what a surprise, eh?

Ron's plight over the spiders totally affected Draco. The stony eyed Slytherin didn't really give a rat's bum about Ron. But he cared about Hermione and Hermione cared about Ron a great deal. The poor girl was often so crestfallen over Ron's plight that her face was often reminiscent of certain Muggle paintings of large-eyed orphan kittens. The sadness on her face was painful for Draco to see. His actual empathy, assuming that is what it was, took a period of time to fully develop. Daily, Draco applied his sensitivities to soothing Hermione over the rough patches.

'If he bothers you so much to see, just don't look at him. Here, I'll put your chair facing the other way,' offered Draco generously.

'You don't understand do you?' fretted Hermione. 'It won't help that I don't see Ron, when I still know he's suffering.'

'But you won't have to watch the twitching little git...'

Hermione shot Draco the hurt, wide-eyed kitten look.

'Oh, well of course. I understand,'

Sort of.

A volley of spit balls ricocheted off Hermione's rear. 'Did you see Draco? Was that Millicent or Blaise?'

'Yes,' Draco nodded.

'Thank you.'

Hermione had long since learned to ignore the childish behaviour of her classmates - to a point. She also had long since picked up from Draco, the skill of retaliation without detection. Millicent Bullstrode thought her outbreak of Galleon sized zits was from too much chocolate.

'Amateur,' Hermione muttered under her breath, still blinking back her tears over Ron's plight. 'And you Blaise,' muttered Hermione peering around to see the dark-haired girl peering back at her, 'How about a nice fat rosy pink haemorrhoid?'

TWACK! TWACK! TWACK! Snape slammed the broom against the spider condo. Several of the spiders began to honk loudly, sounding like a disturbed flock of geese. A few students plugged their ears with cotton floss.

Ron fell off his chair, trembling. He slowly got back up into his seat, his face white as snow. Hermione cringed with sympathy for him. Slytherin students grinned, gave each other high fives in the air, and some ducked under their tables for a good laugh. Ron's dilemma was the highlight of many Slytherin's day.

Snape called out, 'Two points from Gryffindor for Weasley's excessive disturbance of his classmates during lab.'

'WHAT?' Harry's head jerked up from his cauldron. Harry was at his breaking point, not having yet recovered from his gruelling hours scrubbing rust with satin quilting squares. His fingers were still bandaged. 'That is NOT fair!' Harry shouted angrily at Snape.

'Yes, Potty's right,' Draco whispered in Hermione's ear, earning himself a shot in the ribs from Hermione's elbow.

'Two more points from Gryffindor, said Snape with a smile. 'Keep it up Mr Potter. Gryffindor is in third place for the house cup. With a little more effort you can take it to forth place.'

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. She wiped them so she could see to gut the cantaloupe sized spider that lay on her cutting board.

'Is that a spider or a damned onion you're cutting up? Do you ever run out of tears?' asked Draco. 'Mind, I'm not criticizing, but I've never known anyone to cry as much as you do. I don't know five babies with wet nappies that cry as much as you do.'

Hermione frowned at Draco.

'...or five dry babies that are as adorable as you are.'

'Please shut up.' Hermione hissed softly. 'If you had a heart, you'd cry too.' Hermione rubbed her eyes and with her hands, began to snap the legs off her freshly killed spider.

Draco thought Hermione looked as if she could use a bib and a bowl of melted butter.

'You know, your eyes are queer,' said Draco. He took up Hermione's chin - a bold move considering the number of Slytherin in the classroom - he peered into her colourful hazel eyes. It was true. Hermione's eyes were slightly swollen and the whites were rapidly turning purplish. 'It's all that crying. I'm going to invent an eye drying charm for you. You're making our table rust. Do you think Potter might scrub it off for us?'

Hermione was about to take another swipe at Draco when the body of a massive dead spider soared towards Draco's head. Draco ducked and smoothly continued reading his lab instructions parchment.

Blaise, at the back of the room snarled, 'Damn it!' Now she would have to either retrieve her spider or go fetch a fresh live one from the spider house - not a pleasant undertaking. The young witch's aim improved every day but Draco was devilishly quick.

The spider had sailed past Draco and smacked up against the head of Harry who yelped 'UGHHH!' Harry pulled the spider off of his face, whipped around and bunged it at Draco.

Draco ducked a second time as the spider sailed over his head and back to the general location of Blaise.

'Goody!' squealed Blaise. If hitting Draco with a dead spider was 25 points, then hitting Harry was 200 points and a bonus round. Plus her spider was back on her desk ready for gutting.

Harry was so angry that his face matched the alternate red stripes on his Gryffindor tie. He let loose a volley of unforgivably naughty words towards his Slytherin classmates.

'Five points from Gryffindor,' said Snape. 'There are ladies present Mr Potter. Gryffindor students? Thank Mr Potter for his efforts to deprive you of the house cup. He works at it very hard indeed.'

'Now as I was saying,' continued Draco, 'your eyes are looking queer.'

'I must have a slight reaction to this spider; serves me right for not washing my hands thoroughly before touching my face. I ought to know better. Isn't the precipitate ready yet?'

'No, stop fussing at me Petals.'

'Please don't call me Petals in public,' whispered Hermione. Her portion of the day's potion was prepared. She looked at Draco, but Draco was staring at Ron, who looked paler than Peeves the poltergeist.

'I'll call you Petals whenever I want to, Petals.'

Hermione sighed. She could hear one of Draco's "I'm a big boy and you can't tell me what to do" fits coming on. It was probably already too late to head it off. Damn it.

'I just got an idea.' Draco broke out into a large grin. 'I can do that thing you asked of me when you blackmailed me.'

'You've actually given your promise to me some thought?' Hermione asked, trying to sound contrite enough to fend off the oncoming Draco hissy fit.

'Yes - mostly.'

'Draco, your promises to me a few weeks ago had nothing to do with blackmail,' said Hermione, blinking her purplish eyes rapidly. 'You made those promises to me because you are occasionally overwhelmed by good impulses, however infrequently those good impulses surface.' She ought to have finished her sentence earlier on. Adding the bit about the infrequency of Draco's "good impulses" was the same as throwing petrol on the fire of Draco's temper.

'Really?' asked Draco, raising his eyebrows and voice in feigned surprise. 'So the promises you forced on me had nothing at all to do with blackmail? So... what you're saying,' he looked thoughtfully upwards, 'is that I could have made merry with your tits without making any promises to you at all?'

'Shush!' Hermione glared around nervously.

'So I'm to understand that without making "the promises" that you made me repeat over and over and over again ad infinitum, I still could have worshipped at that wonderful fishy bit right between your... '

'Shut UP!' Hermione viciously elbowed Draco.

'Two points for Gryffindor Miss Granger; a tribute to your futile and yet, noble attempts to control the indomitable Mr Malfoy,' said Snape while angrily glaring at Draco. 'Mr Potter, say "thank you" to Miss Granger for taking up your slack and winning a few points back for Gryffindor.'

'You evil, evil, Slytherin boy,' Hermione glared with her purplish eyes at Draco. 'I'm going to wash my hands. Get the precipitate ready, and make sure the ligon berries and lovage seeds are properly mashed or I'm going to come back and get 50 points deducted from Gryffindor and earn myself detention from now 'till Christmas.' Hermione marched off.

Hermione washed her hands at a font at the rear of the dungeon classroom. Harry joined her under the guise of washing his hands. He sighed and then whispered, 'Hermione, what are we going to do about Ron?'

'Nothing. Do you hear me Harry? Nothing at all.'

~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun was only just showing over the treetops of the forbidden forest. The otherwise cold and still air was filled with the sound of morning bird song and the loud grumbling complaints of the entire Slytherin Quidditch team.

'Go on,' bellowed Draco. 'You lot aren't going to develop stamina by sitting around on your lazy arses, faster! Run you lazy... I said, MOVE IT, faster, faster!'

The team completed its third run around the perimeter of the Quidditch stadium, and slowed down, in the hope that the tyrant Draco would show mercy and allow them to mount their broomsticks for a proper Quidditch practice.

'How many times do I have to tell you idle gits that we have to be able to show as much strength at the end of a game as we do at the start, and to do that we must... Hold on!'

Draco eyed the team that ran below him through the grass. Seated above the team on his Starshotz broomstick, he ran a count of his team members and came up short. 'Bleeding beozars! Where the hell is that pain-in-the-arse Radgerman?'

'Rad... Rad,' panted Bawden, a burly and slower running Slytherin team member. The exhausted boy looked up at Draco, who hovered just above him. 'Radgerman's on his way Captain Malfoy Sir.' The running boy gasped for air.

'I don't care when the smeghead plans to get here, where the feckin' hell is he?' furious, Draco flung his clipboard and notes at the hapless Bawden.

Bawden took the clipboard to the back of his head, yelping in pain like a beaten dog. Rubbing his sore head, but not daring to stop running, Bawden called out, 'I d... d... don't know where Radgerman is Captain Malfoy Sir.'

'He's your dorm mate, why didn't you bring him with you for practice? Isn't it your duty to see that your fellow team-mate lives up to his team obligations? Well? Isn't it?'

Bawden was exhausted; he tripped and fell face forward onto the grass. Draco landed his broomstick alongside Bawden. The fallen boy looked up at Draco and panting said, 'Radgerman was gone last night Captain Malfoy Sir. We don't any of us know where 'e was off to but we think he has a girlfriend Captain Malfoy Sir.'

'That arse probably took a fancy to rogering some damned sheep or cow down by Hogsmeade' Draco raged.

'Nope. Got myself a girl Capt'n,' said Tiberius Radgerman, walking up to Bawden and Draco. Radgerman gave Draco a haughty look, 'and she's not some Gryffindor bit of stuff either.'

The team approached Draco and Radgerman just in time to hear Radgerman's caustic remark about Hermione. Only dire curiosity caused the team to approach Draco and the rebellious Radgerman, because doing so made no more sense than walking up to a pack of rabid wolves with a handful of pork chops. The team wasn't completely dense however for they were wise enough to keep their attention on Draco, who was far more volatile in nature than Radgerman.

When Radgerman realized there was an audience, a smile spread across his face. He thought he'd gotten Draco's bluff because as far as anyone could tell, Draco was ignoring the nasty crack about Hermione.

Draco ignored the team, his face inexplicably returning to a look of calm. With a voice deceptively free of anger or emotion, Draco said quietly, 'Well, then. I haven't got time to muck about with you right now Radgerman. We have Quidditch practice to get on with.' Looking thoughtful, Draco said, 'So, I should think, uh... wands... say... the day after tomorrow? Ah, perhaps the common room? Are you game for wizard's duel you moron?'

Radgerman lost his smile. 'Fists. Friday night. The hall outside of the common room. More room and opportunity to rearrange your pretty face Capt'n.'

'Right then. I'm a reasonable man. Fists. Friday. Outside Slytherin Common. Let me add that's a sacrifice on my part that you will pay for; Friday night is my standing night to walk with my girl.' said Draco. 'Wise choice going for fists Radgerman. You absolutely suck at wand work, don't you?'

'No. Just want to feel your bones crushing under my fists is all. More personal that way.'

Draco shrugged, 'Suit yourself. Be sure to bring yourself a second, Radgerman. And maybe a third, so there will be others to carry your sad, sorry arse back to your room when I've finished with you.'

'You be sure that you bring a second Malfoy.' Radgerman's former cool demeanour was long gone.

'Why the hell would I need a second Radgerman?' Draco turned his back to Radgerman and faced the team.

'All right! Nothing more for you sorry lot of tossers to gawk at. Go on, get running! One more lap and then we'll get into the air. Go on, move it! You, Radgerman, you owe me five laps but since you're nearly a half hour late, we'll make it ten.'

'And if I don't feel like running 'Captain Malfoy Sir'?' Radgerman his angry voice rising several octaves.

'Then you'd be off the team, wouldn't you? Your choice.' Draco looked into Radgerman's face and smiled pleasantly.

'You, Bawden. Rest out this lap and then get on your broomstick and practice your dives and turns.' Draco felt a little guilty about having lobbed his clipboard at Bawden. He wondered if Hermione was the blame for this fit of compassion.

Draco shouldered his Starshotz and ran up the heels of his retreating team. 'That's right, I'm running right behind you sorry lot! Damn, when did your arses get so fat? How are we going to mop the floor with the opposing team if you lot insist on mopping up your plates like there's a famine around the bleeding corner? I'm going to weight you fat bastards after practice and I want one kilo off each of you by next week. Then if there's still anything jiggling on those arses when you run laps next week then you'll lose another kilo...!'

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco kept a breakneck schedule. Draco's heavy schedule was not kept up because he wanted to study harder than a Muggle Rhodes scholar or because he enjoyed driving the Slytherin Quidditch team on with endless practice sessions. The Slytherin team lay twitching at night in their four-posters, even in their slumber, obeying the commands of the tyrant Draco, twitching like hunting dogs paddling their paws in their sleep. Draco's breakneck schedule made him sometimes terse with Hermione. Their relationship was rewarding but petulant as one or the other of them picked small fights; more often than not, for the fun of making up afterwards. The unfortunate truth was that Draco's continuous flurry of activity was geared towards keeping his fretful mind off the news he received at the 3 AM chat with his father in the Slytherin Commons. Lucius Malfoy told Draco that soon he would be called upon to serve Lord Voldemort. The news hung over Draco's head like a sword and split the boy clean down the middle of his psyche. He wanted the event to come quickly so he could get it over with, and yet he wanted the event to not happen at all. To avoid the turbulence caused by dwelling on the horrors ahead, Draco filled every minute of his day with obligations, practice, study and Hermione.

He was haunted by dreadful, horrific nightmares. Often as not he woke bathed in sweat, screaming; scaring the wits out of his dorm roommates. Once or twice Draco woke from dreams so terrifying that he had to restrain himself from crawling into bed with Crabbe or Goyle like a frightened child during a thunderstorm. Those nights he lay awake in the wee hours, trembling and sweating and wishing he could have the comfort of having Hermione in his bed. He wanted them to hold each other and he could protect Hermione and make her feel secure. The truth of it would have been more the other way around. Meanwhile, most mornings Draco woke shrieking in terror and his roommates Crabbe, Goyle and the others now routinely placed silencing spells on their four-posters every night before drifting off to sleep. No one knew about Draco's nightmares other than his dorm mates.

These days the only true release from stress for Draco was Hermione. But Draco grew annoyed seeking out empty classrooms and broom closets for their rendezvous, and the Astronomy Tower was just "too done". So he gave a great deal of thought to creating a haven for himself and Hermione. It took him only a week or so to find a spot and claim it for his purposes.

Most Saturday afternoons, Draco and Hermione studied in the library, and afterwards went for a walk, which was the normal Hogwarts slang for having a snog, or better/worse depending on one's attitude towards sexual behaviour. One such Saturday, Draco took Hermione by the hand and lead her towards the three Hogwarts greenhouses, located to the north of the castle.

'Up there,' Draco pointed at a North Tower window. 'That naked girl up there...is that Lavender Brown? Not actually brown really, is she?'

Hermione's head shot up. She peered at the window. 'You wish! That is Lavender and she's not naked, she is wearing her beige sweater.'

'Must be the lighting.' Draco squinted up at the tower. 'That is your dorm room window?'

'Uhhum.' mumbled Hermione, in the affirmative.

'You're not still angry with me for teasing you in Potions class about the blackmail thing, are you?' asked Draco incredulously. He placed his arm around Hermione's shoulder and tightened his grip.

Hermione gave him a sidelong glance. 'It was embarrassing. I'm sure everyone heard you. I got offers for dates from most of the boys in class,' Hermione pouted. 'Even Harry. He was joking. I hope.'

Draco dropped his arm, from around Hermione's shoulder and turned his laughter into a violent string of sneezes. 'Aw, did those evil, evil, heartless bastards tease my poor Petals? I'll make it up to you.' He tut, tutted and took Hermione's hand walking her up to a greenhouse door and pushed open it open. 'Don't let any of the plants grab you. That's my job.'

Walking along a long bench row, Hermione looked at Draco and thought he looked like someone about to show off a diamond mind he'd just discovered. The air in the greenhouse was fresh and scented with the aroma of many exotic and magical flowers, shrubs and herbs. Draco eagerly pulled Hermione along, 'Second row over, then down four benches, and straight over to the centre bench by the glass wall. Here we are Petals!'

'Why are we here exactly?' Hermione was a little unnerved. Although there was a sunny afternoon, the extraordinary volume of growing things in the high roofed greenhouse gave the girl the impression that she was on safari with Tarzan. She almost expected to hear troops of monkeys swinging through on vines overhead. She could just make out through the dense potted foliage, a massive potting bench, covered with row after row of three and four foot tall seedlings, enshrouded by larger pots, containing thickly growing trees and shrubs. She enjoyed the fresh smell of humus and the slight moisture in the air made the large structure of the greenhouse feel warm, which in the midst of November was a good thing.

'Our hideout. On your knees and follow me.' Draco dropped to his knees, and pulled Hermione down next to him. They crawled forward through pots, under a long, plant covered bench. They pushed past hanging boughs of Puffapod shrubs and blooming Ghost Flower plants, which were faintly scented like freshly popped corn. The first thing Hermione noted however was that she was crawling along on a plush carpet.

'What is this place Draco?'

'I told you, our hideaway.' There was little boy excitement in Draco's voice. 'Have a look.'

Hermione peered past Draco. She could see an area fully carpeted, strewn with large fluffy embroidered and brocaded pillows. Several down comforters lay folded and piled by the pillows. The area was 8 feet wide by 20 feet long. Aside from the other comforts Draco provided, there was a wicker hamper; large enough for a first year student to curl up in. The area was a cosy, warm nest. There was lots of light through the long greenhouse glass window the bench was pushed up against. Best of all the area was private, screened by shrubs and greenery along the outside wall, and on the other three sides by tall pots of flowering shrubs, herbs and greenery.

'Mother sends me a hamper twice a week. Lovely stuff.' Draco sat back on one of the fat pillows. 'You like Fugu caviar? Buffalo-fried hummingbird tongues? Squash blossom biscuits? Pickled griffon eggs? Chocolate dipped otter-nose crisps?'

Hermione couldn't tell if Draco was teasing or not.

'Mother sent the carpets. Told her they were for my draftee dorm room. You ought to have heard me talking her into sending the pillows. She now thinks that I own a very large cat that insists on comfort. I suppose I do in a way, puss. I'm sorry the ceiling isn't high enough to stand up, but we can sit up, and anyway, I know that by our seventh year...' Draco stopped talking momentarily. Would she still want to be with him by seventh year? He boldly continued. 'I know by seventh year you'll be able to pull off a volume charm on this spot. We can make the area as big as a Merlin's cave.'

Hermione sat up on her knees. She said nothing. Her eyes glistened with tears.

'Salazar's sacred shorts, Petals why the tears? Come off it now, you'll stain the carpet,' he sounded cranky but he was pleased to have touched her so.

'Oh be quiet, you evil, evil, Slytherin boy,' blinking back tears, Hermione draped her arms around the back of Draco's neck. Leaning forward she kissed him with enthusiasm. Draco moaned, feeling as if he was having his tongue extracted via suction.

This Gryffindor could teach the Zabini sisters a thing or two.

Coming up for air, Hermione smiled, here eyes still watery. 'You are so sweet.'

'Oh now you've done it, you've touched my heart... I'm going to have to cry,' whinged Draco playfully. 'See? My eyes are watering up now. Hold on... any minute now... I KNEW the bloody tears were catching. Ok, here I go.... Boo hoo hoo!'

Hermione swung up a pillow from behind her back and swatted Draco so hard he fell over.

'I'm having a moment here!' Draco shrieked with glee. Don't hit me! WAAAAAA!'

'Shush' laughed Hermione swinging a second pillow. 'Someone might hear.'

'Not a chance! Silencing charm. You could set off two boxes of Filibuster Fireworks and no one two inches past the last Ghost Flower will hear it! Or you could r-e-a-l-l-y get into a LOUD orgasm and no one could hear...'

'Shut up you evil, evil...!'

'No you horny Gryffindor, you are more evil - you shut up!'

They laughed and tussled like kittens for quite a while, finally ending up piled on the pillows, breathlessly laughing.

'I love this Draco! A place where we can relax and not have to look over our shoulders every second for Mrs. Norris or who knows who! Thank you.'

Hermione's huge smile and the way the girl looked at Draco filled him with a sort of happiness nearly as good as the nasty boy thoughts floating around in his mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was evening, ten o'clock, and Slytherin students gathered in the darkened corridor outside of their commons eager for the event of the week. Lookouts were posted on corridor corners keeping lookout for the Slytherin head teacher Severus Snape or Filch the school caretaker, either of whom would be pleased to dispense punishments to all concerned.

Radgerman was eager and ready for the battle, his chance to prove his strength and to tear the annoying, pretty rich boy Malfoy down to size with his bare hands. Radgerman knew he was no match for Draco at wands, few at Hogwarts were. It was highly unusual for wizards to stoop to brute strength in showdowns, and most agreed that Draco was a sport for agreeing to do so. Truth be know, for an opportunity to tear Draco "down to size" the queue might have stretched from Slytherin to the Great Hall and back again.

As always, Draco waited until the last possible moment to make his appearance. Students stepped aside letting him saunter up to the centre of the excited students and face Radgerman. The difficulties Draco faced were immediately apparent. Radgerman was a jovial and easygoing sixth year boy, and he was a bit taller than six feet. He took off his school robes and tossed them to Pansy Parkinson. He flexed his muscles which caused many of the girls present to sigh in admiration of the fit boy.

Draco coolly eyed the taller Radgerman. If Draco was worried, his face did not show it in the slightest. If anything, he positively radiated a boredom, because for him it was a given that he was going to be triumphant - not just the winner, but the triumphant winner. That is the sort of thing that made Draco, Draco.

A lesser boy than Radgerman would have been considerably unnerved just by Draco's stance and attitude, which showed no fear whatever. But Radgerman was amused by Draco's self-confidence. He imagined Draco's pale and pretty skin marred by bluish welts, a black eye and maybe a split forehead.

'You are sure you don't want to use wands, then?' Draco asked calmly.

'No mate,' said Radgerman, flexing his muscles and punching the palm of one hand with his fist.

'Fine then.' With much panache, Draco pulled out his wand and tossed in a high arch through the air, calling out to Pansy Parkinson, 'Catch that, would you Pansy dear?'

The wand floated up over Radgerman' head, shooting green and silver sparks all the while. Radgerman' eyes followed the path of the wand, as it floated above his head. While Radgerman looked up, Draco pulled back one dragon hide boot and let fly a direct hit to that singular place that boys and men find most sensitive. When Radgerman howled and bent forward clutching his goods, Draco punched him in the full in the face, knocking the larger boy senseless. Radgerman hit the corridor floor like a felled tree and lay quivering for a few seconds, and then motionless, in foetal position.

The fight was over.

'Rank amateur - an embarrassment to Slytherin House.' Draco spat the words with distain. He held his fist, rendered scarlet by the violent punch.

Then confrontation over, he stepped over Radgerman, took Pansy's dainty arm. Taking back his wand said, 'Pansy my dear, you haven't taken up with the likes of Radgerman, have you? Here, let me tell you why he sucks, and not in a good way either.' Draco escorted Pansy towards the commons.

When Radgerman lay in front of the collected mass of disappointed students, they all looked down upon the felled boy in dismay. How could he have been in Slytherin for five years and not picked up the unwritten rules to never take your eyes off your opponent and never, never assume that there are any rules during confrontations? Wasn't that the basis of all Slytherin Quidditch matches? What could the unfortunate Radgerman have been thinking?

The most senior Slytherin boy of them all, Augustus McIntyre, called out, 'All right, pay up you gits!'

One by one, disappointed students who lay their money on the heads of the larger Radgerman, or who had bet the length of the duel would last more than five minutes, lined up. One by one they reluctantly handed over their Galleons, Sickles or Knuts to the Prefect. 'Haven't you gits learned not to bet against old blood yet?' he asked. The McIntyre family, like the Malfoys were pureblood wizards of ancient lineage. 'Radgerman had no more chance of winning in a fight against a Malfoy than a blinkin' bunny rabbit.'

Some time later, Radgerman woke to the sharp kick of a pointed toe. It was long after the Slytherin students dispersed to their commons and long after Draco met Hermione in the Astronomy Tower for a quick nighty-night snog. Radgerman opened his eye and peered up at the chestnut haired beauty that looked down at him with murderous eyes.

'How could you?' Messalina snarled in her breathless voice.

Bleary eyed, Radgerman lay on the corridor floor. He could vaguely recall pretty silver and green sparkles shooting out of the end of the Draco's wand. 'But Lissie, Malfoy cheated!' said Radgerman, his voice full of surprise.

'IDIOT!' squealed Messalina, who turned heel and marched off leaving Radgerman still curled up with his knees pulled to his chest. His groin ached and not for good reasons. By the sound of his sweetheart's angry voice, his groin wasn't going to ache for good reasons for at least another couple of weeks.

'Sweetheart! Merlin's Honour,' he called to Messalina, who was disappearing through the stone doorway into the Slytherin Commons. 'I promise, I'll get Malfoy next time round!'

~*~*~*~*~*~

Halloween had come and gone with its feast and merrymaking. It was a couple of weeks after Draco's fight triumph. He looked up from the text he attempted to study for most of the afternoon. He looked out through the greenhouse glass where small birds pecked at the ground behind thick shrubs and beneath canopy of bare winter branches and leafless twigs. But for the presence of Hermione, Draco would have taken up his wand and blasted the small birds into singed piles of charred feathers. He wasn't usually in the habit of blasting innocent birdies, but the boy was miffed.

Midterms were on and despite his every effort, Draco could not distract the formerly studious Miss Granger long enough to get much studying done. Draco had made a fatal mistake. He had offered the delightful Miss Granger a bite of the forbidden fruit. The girl had snatched up the ripe fruit, wolfed it down and now spent every available minute scrounging around for additional tidbits like a she-wolf on the prowl. Studying had become a difficult task to accomplish with Hermione around.

Stretched out on his stomach, propped up by poufy satin pillows, Draco tried to read his History of Magic reading assignment. The reading assignment was quite a challenge, written in a wizard's dialect of old Latin, annotated in ancient French. The difficulty lay not the languages, as Draco had basic knowledge of both old Latin and in ancient French. The difficulty was that the text was obscured, largely covered over by the writhing body of a somewhat over-stimulated Miss Granger.

'That's enough Petals,' said Draco. 'Get off of my homework assignment. You're worse than my mother's cat.'

'Dray-cocoa,' Hermione purred - her cheeks bright pink and her mood, preoccupied with things other than studying. 'That was wicked fun. We have all afternoon to study. Again, Please?'

'Please what?' Draco pulled a parchment out from under Hermione's rump. 'You have no cause for complaint,' like a Tomcat, he spat out a few curly chestnut hairs proving his point. He snarled, 'Now get the hell off my homework. I have 300 pages to read, and three scrolls worth of the forth Giant Rebellion during some damned dynasty or the other to scribble off. I can't begin to do anything with you... you... wiggling all over the place.

'I'm not wiggling Dray-cocoa... my sweet, cup of hot white chocolate,' the girl purred. 'far from it. Things are peachy for me, by you...?' Her words were tinged with pity. 'I mean, here I am all happy and satisfied. I mean I'm feeling... so... tingly...'

'Grow up Petals. The words you are digging around for are 'stupefying-within-an-inch-of-your-life-orgasmically-satisfied'. And no wonder, look here,' Draco said in a serious voice, 'you've worn out three of these in a fortnight.' He stuck out his tongue to show off a black pearl tongue stud. 'You're costing me a small fortune in jewellery and here I've yet to put so much as a friendship ring on those pretty little fingers of yours.'

Dissolving into happy giggles, Hermione rolled to face Draco, her face over his shoulder, sucking on the nape of his neck. His face covered with Hermione's hair - turn-on number 158 by his count - Draco sighed and shivered

All right, the girl is a hindrance to any serious study of Magical History, but she is clearly a cut above the kind of problems I have keeping order on the Quidditch pitch.

Shutting his eyes, Draco allowed Hermione to have her way with him - to a point. She was still sprawled across most of his homework, and when she started working down towards his chest, he pushed her away.

'I'm going to have to swat you with a rolled up copy of the Daily Profit and squirt you with some cold water from my wand. That always gets Mother's cat off my books.'

'Draco, we have all afternoon...'

'You have all afternoon, I have scrolls to write and a load of damned O.W.L.s to pass this year or resign myself to a career as a filthy rich idiot. I'd really rather be a filthy rich intellectual. And you've no room to mess about my girl, your studies have gone all to hell lately. You only got a 130% on your Advanced Arithmancy quiz last week. You practically need remedial tutoring. Now please leave me alone, I have a piece of work to get on with.'

'It's warm here.' Hermione said with a seductive air. 'Oh, Draco my dragon... why don't you take off your jeans? Be comfortable.' asked Hermione, seductively.

Hermione kneeled, running her fingers along Draco's back. The boy was bare from the waist up.

'I'm fine, now bugger off you evil, evil, randy, Gryffindor. What a pest you are!'

Draco reluctantly looked up from his History book and saw what he expected to see, that Hermione's eyes had lost their playful gleam and her lip trembled. Draco felt like an absolute shite. It was time for some creative bargaining.

Draco sighed heavily, 'Here's what we'll do. I read and get a good start on my history assignment. You work on whatever you need to. Late this afternoon, we toss the smegging books and I'll demonstrate a clever little trick I know that requires a mouthful of fizzy water, an ice cube and a clever little witch I know...' Draco laughed. '...from Ravenclaw. Oh... I bet you thought I was going to say a clever little swot witch from Gryffindor?'

The laugher and the playfulness returned to Hermione's face, and she nodded vigorously.

'I'll behave Draco. Honestly.'

Hermione sat up and fished a blue leather textbook from her school bag. Then, still naked as the day she was born; she sprawled across Draco's back and began to read 'The Advanced Study of Transfiguration Under the Influence of Magical Diactics, by Professor Sasha Genius.

'Thank you Petals. I appreciate your cooperation. Now, could you move those adorable tits of yours a little to the right and sort of jiggle those puppies a bit - I've got a ferocious itch.'

~*~*~*~*~*~

The afternoon was a triumph. He'd read all three hundred pages of the stupid Giant's Rebellion of the blah, blah, blah dynasty. He inked two and a half scrolls worth of extra credit Potions class work, and that wasn't too shabby. And topping all that he had enjoyed the incredible bliss of spending a significant portion of the afternoon kissing the lovely Cupid's bow lips and its matching playmate downstairs. He couldn't repress a sigh, when he recalled that even her breath was delicately scented - newly picked mint leaves. Oh, and the heaven of running his fingers in those female places his father had prudently lectured and warned him to avoid least he offend and lose his senses. And Dad was dead right; he did lose his senses over the wonders down under. Yes... what more could a boy ask for on a Saturday afternoon study date? Thank heavens she had to leave so suddenly or none of the above save for the snogging would have happened. He never could get anything done once she showed up.

His grin spread from ear to ear as he recalled what it felt like having those soft lips... he moaned just thinking about it. Probably he wouldn't have another such opportunity until next weekend. And if he got his studying and homework done during the week, they'd have all Saturday afternoon to study - each other. With a heavy, happy sigh for time well spent, he stood up and his trousers promptly fell down. Chuckling he pulled up and fastened his trousers, stretched lazily and ran his long fingers through his scarlet hair. He wished he could brag about it all to Fred and George but those two could not keep secrets, and anyway, they'd tease him half to death. Worse, they'd want to know who the witch was who put the twinkle in their baby brother's eyes. Ron picked up his books and headed back to the Gryffindor Commons. If he could just live to survive Potions class with those damned spiders, things would be dead brilliant.