Draco's Delicate Condition

Chapter 7 - Playing with Fire

Draco Malfoy was in a spectacularly foul mood. For a little over a week, the grumpy boy started fights with little provocation. He threw his wand at Professor McGonagall, knocked Professor Flitwick off of his podium, and made so catty a comment to Professor Trelawney about her choice of eye makeup that the witch predicted Draco's untimely death by Siberian Tiger. In only a few short days Draco lost an astounding quantity of points from Slytherin house. Students took to betting whether by the Christmas holidays the Slytherin hourglass that kept track of the house scores would contain enough sand to cover its glass bottom. Yes, the Slytherin boy was setting records for disruptiveness. Draco's worst behaviour seemed reserved for Intermediate Potions class.

'You're not as miserable as you look, are you Draco?' cooed Hermione sympathetically, while she measured and poured Lovage seeds and chopped Fly Agaric mushrooms into a cauldron.

'I'm fine,' fussed Draco who was occupied furiously scratching his neck. 'I told you I'm fine so bugger off.' Scowling, he frantically rubbed his arms as though trying to keep warm. 'I can't stand this much longer,' he jumped off his lab stool and stuffed his arms into his school robes. He stretched his head backwards, with a grimace on his face he began to scratch. 'Ahhhh.... Ooooo! Yeah, that's it...that's it... yeah, Ahhhh!' Draco looked like a happy man getting portions of his anatomy... tended to. Well, suffice to say the boy looked ecstatically pleased.

'Draco,' whispered Hermione. 'Wouldn't you be more comfortable going out into the hallway to scratch,' her eyes dropped to look down at Draco's lower region, 'there?'

Wrenching his head around to face Hermione, he snarled, 'No I don't! If they don't want to see, they can turn their heads around and mind their own bloody business.'

Hermione turned her head slowly, her eyes lowered with embarrassment. Sure enough, everyone in the classroom, particularly the witches, were craning their necks to stare with rapt fascination at Draco. The lad was scratching at himself like an old hound dog with fleas. And just like an old hound dog, Draco didn't give a damn where upon his person he scratched himself, or who watched him do so. Thank heavens for long black school robes or Draco would probably have been expelled days ago. Interestingly enough, despite her embarrassment at Draco's base behaviour, Hermione seemed not all upset to be partnered with an itchy blonde sour puss; in fact, she seemed to positively dote on him. She reached over and rubbed Draco's back.

'There, is that any better?' Hermione asked, her voice full of compassion.

Draco dropped back into his lab chair. 'Yes. Thank you.' Draco pursed his lips in a pout and sat miserably looking at but not doing anything with the lab ingredients in bowls and decanters before him.

Across the aisle, Pansy Parkinson occupied herself giving dirty looks to Draco. It was difficult getting your salted sea cucumber elixir decanted properly when the room was in a ruckus over where Mr Malfoy might feel like rubbing or scratching himself next. She was the only witch in the class not enthusiastic about Draco's exercises in stretching and scratching. The most popular theory making the rounds for that curious situation was that Pansy saw enough of Mr Malfoy to last her a lifetime following the forth year Yule Ball amid the fairy lights in the rose garden. There were a couple of other theories but they were unkind and not worth repeating.

'Pssst,' whispered Blaise Zabini to Draco. She chose a moment when Snape was occupied lambasting Ron and Crabbe at the front of the classroom. 'Would you like some help with your scratching there Skippy?' Blaise held up a hand and made scratching motions with her well manicured nails.

'Blaise, retract those claws and shut your filthy gob,' snarled Draco. 'Or I'll...'

'There, there Draco,' Hermione murmured, 'Just ignore the wicked and evil Blaise creature. Here, let me kill that spider for you,' she took Draco's lab tray, which had a humongous live Spinning Tiger Spider on it, trapped under an upended bell jar. 'You poor, poor thing. You Draco, not the spider. You don't look well at all.'

It was true. Draco did not look well; to the observant, Draco's fair skin growing steadily more blotchy day by day. Hermione gave the scowling Draco an indulgent smile.

At the next table over, Harry thought he was going to loose his breakfast over the lovey-dovey antics at Hermione and Malfoy's table. 'So, when love seeps in, the brains seep out,' Harry said under his breath.

'What?' Harry's lab partner Crabbe asked sluggishly.

Harry placed another handful of Lovage seeds into his mortar. 'I said, Lovage seeds in, squeeze crude out. Crabbe are you going to kill that spider or dance with it?'

'Shut up,' said Crabbe, grappling with a small penknife over a tray that held a large spider with its eight legs flaying frantically.

Harry rolled his eyes. Crabbe always insisted on killing the spiders himself, and inevitably Harry ended up chasing the escaped arachnids across the room, and having to kill the revolting things himself. Harry worried an escaped spider might approach Ron, who would wind up in the stress ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

There was reason enough to worry about Ron, who sat, his face tired and ashen. Ron stared at the spider house muttering under his breath. He seemed entirely uncomprehending that his table partner Goyle had set out all the ingredients for the day's potions assignment. Ron was in grave danger of flunking potions. Ron had a difficult time completing his share of lab assignments since the arrival of the spider house.

As Harry expected, the spider evaded Crabbe's clumsy fingers.

'Damn it.' Harry said quietly. To his immense relief the spider was mercifully headed away from Ron.

The hairy spider leapt past Harry, landing on the floor and scuttling off towards Draco and Hermione's table. Harry jumped up following the spider. He caught up with the eight-legged horror by Draco. Ignoring Draco, Harry awkwardly pinned the large lumpy spider with his foot. Just as Harry bent over balancing on one foot to pick the spider up, Draco viciously booted Harry in the bum, knocking him face down on the floor.

'OOOUUUCCCCHHHH!' Harry yelped.

Harry leapt up and looked down. The spider was stuck to the front of his robes; sticky and squashed almost beyond recognition save for the eight, foot-long legs sticking out at strange angles. The squashed spider smelled like old rotted vegetables. There was an automatic loss of three points to the house of anyone 'wasting' a spider.

'You total bastard,' Harry spat furiously at Draco.

Draco looked every bit as angry as Harry, his face all twisted up, looked like a frenzied wolverine. 'Now we're even Potter, for the kick you gave me on the Quidditch pitch when term started.'

Harry swung his fist through the air just as Hermione roughly pulled Draco off his feet, pulling him out of harm's way behind her back. Unfortunately, that did not remove everyone from harm and Hermione looked stunned as she realized she had stepped into the path of Harry's fist. Luckily, Harry pulled back when he saw what was happening, but still, Hermione took a bit of a hit. To Harry's horror, not to mention to Draco's fury, Hermione collapsed backwards, neatly caught in Draco's arms.

'Hermione,' Harry yelled.

'Scarhead, I'm going to get you for this!' Draco sounded so dangerous that several students interested in self preservation raced for the dungeon door.

'Mr Potter!' Snape murmured menacingly as he flowed across the classroom towards the scene of the crime. 'Striking a classmate and a witch at that. I'll see you expelled this time.'

'For Salazar's sake, knock it off Snape,' Draco barked into Snape's face. Draco sounded aggravated beyond endurance. 'This is between myself and Potty-time here. Go yell at Thongbottom, he must have mucked up something up by now.'

The class collectively gasped. Even Ron temporarily snapped out of his stupor and turned around to stare at Draco. Had Draco finally completely lost his mind? Yelling at a professor - yelling at Snape? Obviously someone had a suicide wish.

Ignoring everyone, Draco tenderly lowered Hermione to the floor. He gently patted her cheeks. 'Hermione? Come on, Hermione.'

Dropping to his knees, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione. 'AGUAMENTI!' And water spritzed onto Hermione's face.

Hermione sputtered awake. She opened her eyes and peering up at Draco and then Harry. She moaned softly and held her hand clasped to her jaw. 'Oh! I'm sorry Harry. That wasn't your fault.'

Snape stood over Harry, Hermione and Draco. He was livid. He was too angry to speak, his already sallow complexion rapidly growing whiter than a Papuan Ghost Spider's thorax.

Draco murmured sweetly to Hermione, his voice softer than a dove's coo. 'Are you all right?' he ignored Snape and everyone else.

Hermione's eyes flickered and opened. She looked up into Draco's face. 'I'm all right.'

'Are you sure?' Draco gently patting Hermione's cheeks.

Hermione nodded again managing a wane smile.

'Good, my sweet,' murmured Draco, 'but chivalry is dead. Now get your alabaster arse off the floor and help me, we have a lab here to finish! Come along now, the bile ducts must be removed from this, this stupid spider!' Draco looked up and divided a nasty look between Harry and Snape. Draco bodily lifted Hermione up off the floor and gave her a peck on the cheek. Turning his back on her, and ignoring Snape and Harry, he snatched up a jar of lovage seed and fumbled around for the measuring scoop.

With a befuddled look on her face because Draco's innocent kiss on her cheek broke all the rules. Hermione nodded at no one in particular and returned to her lab stool.

'I'll mash these,' Draco spoke as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had taken place. 'You deal with the smegging spider, all right Hermione?'

Every student in the class, except for Draco, was shocked. No one moved. They didn't know what to be horrified at first: that Draco kicked Harry, that he had been incredibly rude to Snape, or that he had the gall to kiss a girl openly in class; a Gryffindor no less.

Both Harry and Snape stood silent, at least one of them at a loss for words not linked to fornication or suspect sources of parentage.

The squashed spider that was stuck on Harry's robes detached, landing on the floor with a wet plop.

The squishy noise broke Snape out of his stupor, and he nabbed Draco by his robes shaking him so vigorously he looked like a blonde blur. The Lovage seeds flew out of Draco's measuring scoop and sprinkling nearby students.

'What is wrong with you Mr Malfoy?' Snape hissed like an angry cobra, his dark eyes narrowed into thin angry lines. 'I gave you fair warning boy that I would not suffer your disruptive behaviour for long, and now I've had enough.'

Slytherin students gasped and prepared themselves for the lost of another one, if not two hundred points, courtesy of Mr Malfoy. Wiser students ducked under their tables, wands at the ready - you never know.

There were some tense minutes during which Snape stared at Draco, as if taking the full measure of the obviously deranged boy. Snape's angry face gradually relaxed, replaced by a look of concern. 'Mr Malfoy... you look strange... very strange. Did you get a bad whelk at breakfast or something? What is wrong?'

Draco jerked himself roughly from Snape's grasp. 'This is what's wrong,' with a scowl at Snape, Draco pulled up his robe sleeves and thrust out his arms, palms up.

Nearby students jerked back in disgust, many more gasps were heard. Snape's eyebrows raised and his jaw dropped. The lengths of Draco's arms were covered with flushed prickly rashes, reddish hives and splotches of dried blood where Draco scratched his skin raw. There was a powerful and sharp odour, reminiscent of bitter unguents and pungent herbs that drifted towards nearby tables of students who pinched their noses shut.

Still glaring at Snape, Draco fussed, 'Those damned spiders did this to me. I've itched for days, and I thought it was from that rank potion you had us prepare in class last week. But now I'm sure that I'm allergic to those fucking spiders over there.' Draco jerked his head towards the spider house.

More Students gasped. Draco cursed in the presence of Professor Snape! Slytherin house was going to finish the year with the lowest house score they'd had in centuries. They would count themselves lucky if Slytherin house didn't end the year owing points for the next school year!

Snape looked long and hard into Draco's face, searching for the truth. Finally with a look half scowling and half puzzled, he took a firm grip of Draco's wrists and pulled the boy towards him. Snape gingerly stretched a forefinger towards a nasty looking hive on Draco's arm and oh so gently, he touched it.

Draco jerked his wrists out of Snape's grasp. 'MERLIN'S MANKY MANMUCK, DAMN ME, THAT HURTS!' Draco screamed, cursed like a drunken goblin and jumped up and down heavily, setting the glass decanters and bell jars on nearby tables to rattle.

No one doubted that Draco felt some... discomfort.

'If I tell my father about this, he's going to be furious!' Draco yelled. 'My mother will have you up on charges with Control of Magical Animals for mistreatment and overcrowding of arachnids.'

Snape stared at Draco's arms as if trying to decide if the repulsive welts were only a magical illusion. When Draco quit jumping around, Snape again grabbed the boy's wrists and stared anew at the welts and rashes. Then Snape placed the flat of his hand on Draco's forehead and was startled to discover that Draco was running a temperature, a rare thing for a wizard, especially a young one.

'These wounds give me horrible nightmares,' whinged Draco with an air of a grievously wronged innocent. 'Only last night, I dreamt I was some pathetic penniless red-haired git in ragged robes.' He shot a mean spirited glance at Ron. The look was wasted as Ron was trembling and murmuring incoherently eyes glued to a yowling spider.

Slytherin students snickered quietly at Draco's comments. Harry and Hermione, at their own tables, sat stony faced with their fingers crossed under their desks.

Snape hissed in a voice that was as soft as a wren passing gas but conveyed more rage and danger than Attila the Hun riding slipshod over innocent villagers. 'That is quite enough out of you Mr Malfoy,' he threw Draco's wrist down and yelled 'Prefect!'

Pansy and Hermione each jumped to their feet.

'Miss Parkinson, you are in charge while Mr Malfoy and I visit the infirmary. Miss Granger, sit yourself down,' the look on Snape's face clearly implicated Hermione in whatever nonsense he suspected Draco was up to.

Pansy smirked at Hermione. Hermione sank down into her seat, with a worried look towards Draco.

On the way to the classroom door, Snape said to Draco in a low threatening voice. 'I've had about enough of your foolishness this term Mr Malfoy. I'm warning you now, if I ever find out that this is some sort of illusion or trick on your part, your life is going to take a drastic change for the worse.'

Draco stopped walking and boldly fixed his sharp grey eyes unblinking on his professor. 'If I ever find out that these poisonous rashes have any effect on the use of my wand arm, YOUR life is going to take a drastic change for the worse. And you can take that to Gringotts.'

Snape whipped around and strode stiffly out of the classroom. Snape did not notice that just before Draco left the classroom the rascal spun around. He wickedly horrified Harry with a cheeky wink.

Hermione grinned.

Harry grimaced.

Balance; always keep them unbalanced. There. That wink should keep Potter awake shaking with dread in his four-poster for a few days at least.

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Potions class was dismissed, Ron was already apple cheeked and exuberant. His dreams came true; the damned spiders were on their way to wherever it was that disgusting furry eight-legged things disappeared to. He imagined that Snape would sacrifice the lot. At worse, Ron would have to dissect dead spiders - a more pleasant prospect than having to deal with spiders that tried to climb off of one's cutting block and race up your face.

It is worth noting that Ron's supreme joy was inversely proportional to the gloom and sorrowful faces of the Slytherin students. They would no longer be able to easily harass Ron. The Slytherin looked like Muggle children who found out that that the circus had packed up early and rolled out of town.

Ron was so animated that Harry and Hermione had to trot down the corridor to catch up with him.

Ron stopped when they caught up with him and gave a happy hop. 'Who would have thought that Draco would free us from that scabby lot of spiders? Ha! The first bit of luck I've had all term.'

Hermione leaned in towards the boys, giving them a mysterious look. 'That wasn't coincidence Ron,' she whispered. 'I asked Draco get rid of the spiders weeks ago. Took him a while to get an angle on it, but he did it. The dear took on most of the work and all of the expense himself.'

Both Ron and Harry looked thunderstruck. Hermione had called Draco 'dear', and in their presence. Oh, and besides that, she seemed to think that Draco had gotten rid of the spiders for the sake of a red-haired Weasley; not on this planet, this is earth.

Hermione, grinned like a jack o' lantern. Huge smile on her face she rocked back and forth on her heels in a way that was unnervingly reminiscent of Draco.

'No way,' said Harry in a calm voice. 'It'd be more like Malfoy to get Snape to stuff a Dementor or two into the spider house, for a laugh.'

'Malfoy got rid of the spiders? As if!' chortled Ron who was not believing Hermione for a second. 'Come off it Hermione. Malfoy would be more likely to trump up a reason to stick me in the spider flat.'

Laughing at what he was sure was Hermione's little joke, Ron started to strut off, a huge weight off his shoulders, but Hermione dashed after him and grabbing him by the shoulder.

'No Ron, wait! That's the truth and I can prove it.' She motioned for the boys to follow her down a side hall. 'Here, look.'

Hermione put her school bag on the ground and fished out a rolled piece of parchment that was tied with a pink satin ribbon. Pulling off the ribbon she handed the parchment to Ron. Harry stood at Ron's shoulder as Ron unfurled the parchment. After a perfunctory roll of their eyes, the two stared at the parchment. To begin with, the boy's faces looked sceptical, but suddenly they looked as they might if they had only just discovered that Lord Voldemort was actually a misunderstood and benign soul in the service of Father Christmas.

On the parchment, in what was unmistakably Draco's unusually-neat-for-a-wizard handwriting, Harry and Ron read the following:

Dear Petals,

I was up most of the night thinking about the favour you asked me to do for your Weasley friend.

It only took one line of the note for both Harry and Ron to gasp and pull back from the note; the shock was just too overwhelming. Ron stared at Hermione, he spat out with total revulsion, 'Petals? Malfoy calls you PETALS?'

'Cut the crap Ron,' barked Hermione. 'READ!'

The boys resumed reading.

After all, why should I help Weasley or Potter? Then I thought about how sweet your face looked when it was so full of concern for your pitiful, twat of a friend - no offence, I'm sorry, but he is a twat. So, after much consideration, if helping the ginger-headed shite is important to you, then - Merlyn help me - it is more important to me.

I got the idea from the purple-tinted whites of your beautiful eyes. I can draw on my considerable talents and some foreign plants to pull off a violent allergic reaction. Already sent my owl for what I'll need to pull it all off.

Destroy this letter as soon as you've read it. And whatever you do, don't tell Tomato-top or 'The Boy Who Farted'... that's not right is it? As I am doing this immense favour for you, I reckon I can call the gits whatever the hell I feel like. After all, you don't want me to get the white feather for committing a good deed and thereby lose my standing with the International Brotherhood Of Dirty Rotten Slytherin Scoundrels. Ha!

Love, your 'Dray-cocoa',

P.S. turn over note

The boys quickly attempted to flip over the parchment but Hermione was too quick for them. She snatched back the parchment and stuffed it in her robe pocket along with the satin ribbon. 'The rest of the note is... uh... personal,' her voice was a touch twee.

The boys stared at Hermione. Both looked as if they'd just had their faces plunged into a large cauldron full of one of Professor Sybil Trelawney's most sickeningly sweet perfumes. Harry's stomach rolled. Ron's stomach did a little more than that, but he swallowed.

Ron was stuck on a certain point. 'Dray-cocoa? She calls him Dray-cocoa? Could that be more nauseating or disgusting?'

'Dray-cocoa is my sweet cup of hot white chocolate, all stirred up.' Hermione smirked, rocking on her heels again.

'Hermione,' Ron said weakly. 'You're scaring me.'

'Hermione,' asked Harry, knowing full well that he was about to tread on dangerous ground. 'Didn't Malfoy specifically ask you to destroy that note?'

A near rabid glare from Hermione squelched that line of questioning. With an air of one who had witnessed a miracle first hand and was ready to wade into baptismal waters, Hermione said, 'Draco's wonderful plan worked. He ordered plants from a North American supply house - poison ivy, oak, sumac and some others from an African botanist supply house. All this week we rubbed the plants on him, all over him. Well, no need to go there.' she giggled and winked. Winking seemed to be another habit she'd picked up from Malfoy, along with heel rocking and the occasional smirk.

The boys gripped their stomachs again.

'It was all Draco's doing,' Hermione said. 'Draco knows that if Snape suspects trickery, he'll look to spells or potions as the source. We don't think he will ever suspect the rashes and welts are real and were from ordinary, non-magical, plants. He thinks the spiders are the source of Draco's rashes. Oh! And Draco's so clever...'

Ron faced Harry and rolled his eyes while fluttering his eyelashes and silently mouthed 'Oooo Draco is so clever!'

'Draco ate a tobacco plant leaf before class. A most interesting botanical effect. The leaf gave him a fever' Hermione gave an emphatic bounce and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Her expectations of Harry and Ron racing off at some point to throw themselves gratefully at Draco's feet were premature.

'Too bad the tobacco leaf didn't give Malfoy a coronary,' Harry muttered behind his hand to Ron.

And he did all that for you Ron,' Hermione gave Ron a sympathetic look like a doting auntie.

Ron looked thoroughly disgusted and utterly unconvinced by Hermione's explanation. 'Oh, Malfoy did all that for me then did he? Not bloody likely Petals.'

But Hermione was no longer attentive to the Ron or Harry. A dreamy look drifted over her face, and she rocked gently on her heels, her lips pursed as though she were munching on a sugar quill. Harry and Ron couldn't tell if Hermione's smile was related to her joy over a good deed well done, or if her smile was related to nasty sort of girl thoughts from a delightful time spent rubbing noxious weeds and herbs all over the body of her sweet cup of hot white chocolate, all stirred up.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco's reign of terror was over. The boy was now as close as he would ever come to being absolutely polite, cooperative to a near fault and as well behaved as a child on Christmas Eve. Draco washed Professor McGonagall's chalkboards, he sorted Professor Flitwick's piles of books alphabetically by subject, and he made such a flattering comment about Professor Trelawney's choice of earrings that she predicted that Draco would live to be 125 years old while in possession of all of his teeth. Even Professor Snape was back to extending Draco the courtesies boy had enjoyed for years. Points now surged back to Slytherin house, courtesy of Mr Malfoy. The sands flew through the Slytherin house hourglass as though blown in by desert winds. Draco won back all the points he had lost from Slytherin during his allergy hooliganism. It is worth noting for the record however that once Slytherin's house points were back up to snuff, Draco quickly reverted back to his usual arrogant, obnoxious, Gryffindor baiting, insult tossing self - after all he was a Malfoy.

Most of Draco's hives were cleared up and he was absolutely full of himself. Madame Pomfrey easily rid Draco of the hives but Draco continued to complain to Hermione of maddening itches. Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew Draco's hives and itches were gone, but Draco so loved being made a fuss over with anti-itch herbal salves and plenty of TLC that Hermione happily conceded to his whims. Perhaps it was the TLC that made Draco as trustworthy and docile as a house-elf with Hermione.

It was time for a quiet night-night snog. Draco and Hermione headed up the stairs for a traditional Hogwarts lover's date in the Astronomy Tower. They walked arm and arm, clutching each other's waists, which wasn't easy as they climbing a steep stairwell. The fire lit iron sconces sent tall silhouettes dancing romantically upwards in the stairwell. They pinching each other every few steps, squealed and laughed merrily. Their cheerful voices echoed against the curved stone walls. Long ago, when Salazar still walked the halls of Hogwarts, the Astronomy Tower became the place where amorous Hogwarts students snuck away to for a nice snog in relative warmth, comfort and safety. Draco and Hermione were firmly entrenched in bliss and that was the only way Draco knew how to feel in the presence of Hermione - bliss. Bliss mixed with his incessant nasty sort of boy-thoughts.

'Petals, tell me again why you want me more than any other wizard at Hogwarts?'

'Again Dray? How can I tell you again when I don't recall that I ever said such a thing in the first place?'

'That's all right, I'm asking now. Tell me why you like me more than your friend Parvati Patil. Compare us. I'll start you off. Breasts - I haven't got any. There. Now tell me all about Parvati's breasts.'

'Draco, stop with your ridiculous requests or there'll be no more lavender salve rub downs.'

'All right then that's a good suggestion. Tell me about when you gave Lavender Brown a salve rubdown. Where did you begin her rubdown - breasts perhaps?'

'That is enough Draco. You know well I have done no such thing. No more salve rubdowns for you. Too stimulating for you.'

'Too stimulating for me? Ha! I'd say that's the pot calling the caldron black!'

Draco was still sulking as he and Hermione rounded the corner on the narrow walkway at the top of the stairs.

'Damn it. Couldn't you just count on this?' said Draco dryly.

Between Draco, his date and the door of the Astronomy Tower room stood a long line of a dozen or so randy and hopeful couples. All waited for a turn in the round tower room amid the podiums topped with sky charts and the large telescopes poised under the vaulted domed glass skylight. Admittedly, the two comfy leather sofas and the one mauve Victorian fainting couch in the Astronomy Tower were rather a draw too.

'All right then kiddies,' announced Draco to the gathered couples using his best authoritative voice. 'As you all know, I'm Captain Draco Malfoy. I have a Gryffindor Prefect here, and I'm not afraid to use her. Run along now before she cites you all for being out of your common rooms with conspicuous intent to do naughty things involving tonsils, tongues and other pink bits. Oh! Do I hear your house professors calling you?'

There was much grumbling, but the for the most part, the students left, no one wanting to risk annoying Captain Malfoy. And anyway the students were in the mood for love, not war so they scarpered off to distribute themselves in deserted and empty classrooms to snog until Mrs. Norris might catch them. Only one couple remained behind and that couple was quite something of a surprise.

Neville Thongbottom has a girlfriend - a pretty girlfriend?

Draco smiled his smarmiest, good-natured "atta boy" smile at Neville. Neville sat on the floor, arm in arm with his girlfriend, a buxom and sweet tempered 6^th year girl with the long and silky ginger plaits. The girl was the very one Neville 'caught' in his arms at the Great Hall riot back at the start of term.

'H...h...hello Malfoy,' Neville was nervous, but he had a gut full of gristle in front of his girlfriend. 'Hello Hermione.'

'Why Neville, Hello!' Hermione smiled. She nodded at Neville and his girlfriend.

'So Neville,' said Draco. 'As you know, Prefects officially go to the head of all lines.' Draco thought it would be nicer to tell that little lie about Prefects, rather than to bully Neville in front of his girlfriend. Draco blamed his 'good impulse' on Hermione. After all, Draco's first inclination was to hoist Neville up by the scruff of his neck and kick the lad's plump Gryffindor arse down the stairwell.

'Y... yes Malfoy. The couple in the tower right now have been at it since we arrived an hour ago. Myself and... oh, you haven't met my... friend... Fiona Branigan from Ravenclaw.'

Miss Branigan nodded politely. The bright-eyed colleen had an arm around Neville's waist.

'So Miss Branigan. You actually managed to find something approximating attractiveness in Thongbottom?'

Draco's line of questioning was interrupted as Hermione stuck her hand up Draco's robe, took a bit of his skin, dug in her nails and pinched with all her might.

'OOOUUUUCCCHHHH!' squealed Draco through painfully clenched teeth, Draco continued. 'I imagine it was our Longbottom's undeniable charm that caught you... off guard. Now if you'll kindly excuse us.'

Rubbing the sore spot where Hermione had pinched him, Draco walked to the Astronomy room door, hollering, 'Break it up in there, give your lips and other naughty bits a rest. Open up, a Captain and a Prefect here!' He pounded on the door with a fist and for good measure, gave the door a kick.

Two more rounds of door pounding were required before the wide wooden door creaked open, just wide enough for a small elephant to creep through. Out stepped Gregory Goyle, who closed the door behind himself. Goyle stood staring blankly at the Draco, Hermione, Neville and Fiona.

'Goyle?' Draco sputtered in surprise. 'Goyle, you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? A small farm animal with adequate dimensions for penetrati... OUCH!' he squealed at a newly applied pinch by Hermione. 'Please,' whispered Draco behind his hand to Hermione. 'I'm trying to ascertain if Goyle understands that the snogging tower involves one's self and a second party.'

Goyle stood, staring at Draco with what might have been a look of betrayal or annoyance - but translating the look on Goyle's beefy face was always a Knut toss. The door behind Goyle cracked open, just a bit, and shut again. Draco craned his neck to see who or what life form was standing behind Goyle. Draco would have liked to show a little more restraint, but for mercy's sake this was Goyle's 'significant other'.

Goyle stepped laterally aside in response to taps on his side from behind.

Hermione kept her eyes on Draco. Seldom had she seen Draco's face undergo so many fascinating transformations in such a short margin of time.

Messalina Zabini, Draco's recent 'ex girlfriend' stood behind Goyle. The girl, with an inscrutable look of calm on her face, buttoned the top button of her low cut jeans. She wore a 'barely there' silken midriff blouse that allowed perusal of her flat stomach. A diamond on her little golden navel ring glinted even in the dim of the corridor. Draco had given the navel ring to 'Messie' on one of their jaunts to Hogsmeade. Messalina's long chestnut hair hung thick upon her silk draped breast, and she flicked her head, tossing her heavy mane behind her back. Her azure eyes focused hatefully on Draco. In a notably unladylike move, the girl spat onto Draco's booted foot.

Hermione waited for Draco to explode, but he did not. Perhaps he thought he deserved as much considering his past relationship with the vivacious Miss Zabini.

Messalina, what the hell could you be thinking? GOYLE?

Draco noticed two pinkish bite marks, delicately etched in relief on Messalina's creamy white skin. Messalina lazily rubbed one hand over the marks on her flat tummy.

Oh... That's what the hell you were thinking. But GOYLE?

'Drakey Ducks, I see you found yourself another... victim. How nice for you.' Messalina took up Goyle's hand, and clutched it to her bosom. 'Greggers, look Honey, it's Malfoy. What do you say?'

Goyle looked down at Messalina a wide grin on his broad face. Goyle's eyes looked as enthusiastic and hungered as they were being capable of looking without the presence of a cake or sweets. Goyle looked up from Messalina and faced Draco. Goyle's bared teeth gnashed and his single long eyebrow furrowed over his dark and malicious looking eyes. His fists clenched and unclenched. 'Malfoy.' Goyle said in his voice, which was lower in tone than a base tuba, 'You hurt Lena's feelings.'

Seldom had Draco heard Goyle in public string so many syllables together at one go.

Messalina patted Goyle's hand. 'There, there Greggers. I'm sure that Malfoy had good reason to tear out my heart and tread upon it. Then again, maybe he's is just a hateful arse-hole.' Messalina took Goyle's hand and led the large boy away. Draco was reminded of pictures he once admired of an attractive Muggle female in tights and tutu leading away an elephant by the trunk.

I swear, there are plump red satin hearts floating up from Goyle's fat head.

'Draco.' Hermione was surprised by the little interaction. She was most surprised that anyone got away with calling Draco an arse-hole to his face. 'Your best friend Goyle is upset with you? Didn't you tell me that you and Messalina parted on good terms?'

'Um... no, I think I told you that Messalina is a right bitch towards me. See how she acted? I didn't lie now, did I? Who knows what twisted thoughts are in that mascara clotted brain of hers.'

'If you're going to talk,' interrupted Neville. 'How about letting Fiona and me have a go in the tower first?'

Draco and Hermione stared wide-eyed at the formerly timid Neville. Draco nodded. Like a shot, Neville and Fiona raced through the door, slamming it behind them.

'Who the hell was that?' asked Draco in amazement. 'It certainly wasn't little Neville Thongbottom?'

'Draco, don't be mean. Neville isn't any more the little round faced boy he used to be than you are.'

'I never had a round face,' Draco scowled. 'And I'm not mean, I was only saying,' the two nattered on for twenty minutes, allowing Neville and Fiona time for a decent snog.

'You are so kind,' said Hermione. 'Allowing Neville and Fiona a little quiet time together.' Hermione looked dove-eyed at Draco.

Draco snorted as if he didn't care about Hermione's praise. 'I swear, if you dare say anything about my so-called rare good impulses I'll put you over my knee. On second thought, say whatever you please. I'm going to put you over my knee in any case,' he stood and pounded on the door. 'Oi, Longbottom, come on out! We're ready.'

The door opened a few minutes later. Neville and Fiona stepped out. Fiona's plaits were unfurled and her pretty blouse was akimbo. She and Neville otherwise seemed rather blissful and happy. The two sat once again on the floor.

Before Draco stepped through the Astronomy Tower doors behind Hermione, Draco turned to Neville. 'Waiting for another go? I'm sorry, but if you wait for us to vacate, you'll miss curfew.'

Looking away from Fiona's face, Neville said, 'That's OK mate. We're good out here too.'

Our little Thongbottom has grown up.

'You know Longbottom,' said Draco. 'If the sorting hat had to do it all over again, it might have given the teeniest, wee bit of thought about placing you in Slytherin. I mean if there were no better-qualified candidates.' Draco had given his highest possible praise.

At the unexpected praise or whatever it was, Neville looked flabbergasted. 'Um... thank you.'

Fiona smiled up at Draco and said in a thick and sweet Irish accent, 'Malfoy, we'll be thanking you for the complement. Assuming that twisted bit was a complement.'

Awww... and Thongbottom's girl is cheeky too.

Draco himself couldn't believe he'd said anything so nice to Neville. It occurred to him that he could 'set things back to right' later; perhaps insult Neville later in the week just to keep a hand in. There was always the 'kick Thongbottom's fat arse down some stairs' idea he'd had earlier. Yes, that would do. Draco stepped into the Astronomy room after Hermione and shut the door behind them.

The hall outside of the Astronomy Tower was quiet. It was several hours later and the last of the students were gone from the corridor. There came a sound of tiny footsteps, tip tapping up the steep stairwell. A tiny house-elf, clad in what looked like doll clothes, skittered up to the corridor. The tiny mite held a large pail. She, a house-elf with globe-like brown eyes, scampered to the Astronomy Tower door, leaving a wet trail of water splashed from her pail. She squealed, 'Ohhh... Winkie won't be getting caught by that naughty bad Dobby!' Reaching high on her tiptoes, she turned the door handle, and slipped inside the tower room.

Seconds later, a second house-elf disapparated at the top of the stairwell. The second elf was clad in an outfit so loudly coloured that it was amazing there was no sound coming out of the garish fluorescent purple and yellow Hawaiian shirt, the bright red silk trousers or the vivid pink sock and its mismatched mate, a rainbow striped sock. The house-elf squealed, 'Where is hiding Winky?' The house-elf carried a mop that appeared to be too large for him to handle, but handle it he did. He noted the wet splashes on the floor and raced along towards the source. He slipped on the water, skidding right into the door, and he fell back on his tiny bum. He stood up, laughing and squealed, 'Ooooo! Winky is making her Dobby fall down!'

A high-pitched scream of glee came from inside the tower room.

'Dobby is coming in he is! Winky is better watch herself!' The garishly outfitted house-elf hoisted up his mop over his head and raced through the crack in the door pulling it shut behind him. Giggles floated out from the room. The giggles were so high pitched it sounded as if there were dolphins behind the door.

Twenty minutes later, a third, agitated looking house-elf disaparated in at the Astronomy Tower stairwell. This elf's huge round eyes glinted with annoyance. He wore a torn bit of duvet, held together with large safety pins. The elf marched to the tower room door and pounded on it angrily with both fists. Screams of happy delight floated from behind the shut door.

The duvet-clad elf pounded on the door and shouted, 'Ooooh! Is you two bad, bad house-elves in there? You is better be mopping the floor!'

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning was something of a trial on everyone's patience, particularly Harry's. He had the great misfortune to be seated between Ron and Hermione. Head down, feigning deafness, Harry munched a bit of buttered toast and silently sipped his tea. For entertainment, he peered across the table, where Ginny sat. Harry watched Ginny secretively but thoughtfully. To the casual observer it seemed as though Harry was making some kind of decision, such as what new false predictions to use for his Divination homework, what socks should he wear at Quidditch Practice, whether he'd made the right decision to use milk rather than lemon in his tea, or whether or not he ever intended to ever make a move on Ginny.

For her part, Ginny seemed to be studiously avoiding notice of Harry; the girl had changed her tactics. She was engaged in an engrossing discussion with a forth year Gryffindor boy over the various merits of breakfast teas on the table. To see Ginny, who gushed and giggled, you'd have thought she and the handsome forth year boy were discussing their honeymoon arrangements. The general impression Ginny gave Harry was that she wouldn't have noticed if his black hair fell off and burst into flames.

Meanwhile, the Granger/Weasley war was renewed. Hermione badgered Ron.

'Ron, how can you be so ungrateful? Poor Draco went out of his way at great personal discomfort and at Draco's own personal expense.' As the phrase 'at Draco's own personal expense,' left Hermione's lips, her battle to convince Ron of anything at all was irretrievably lost. The last thing Ron needed or wanted to hear was that he was indebted to the likes of Malfoy.

Lowering her voice Hermione continued in a voice scarcely above a whisper. 'You-know-who went out of his way to get rid of the you-know-whats. And you won't even say 'thank you' Ron? You could at least send Draco a thank-you note by owl...'

'Send Pig over to Malfoy? You are balmy.' Ron looked aghast at the thought of sending Pigwideon, his miniscule owl to Malfoy for any reason at all. 'Malfoy would probably feed pig to his bloody Eagle-Owl!' Ron was adamant and he refused to whisper or leave 'you-know-who' unnamed.

'Then just go over to Draco and tell him 'thank you'. I'll go with you.'

'Oooo that's tempting. 'Good Morning Malfoy. Your sweetums wants me to thank you for doing something that charmed the knickers off of her and accidentally did me a spot of good.' If that'll do, with or without you I'll walk over to him right now.'

'Oooo you!' Hermione longed to lob something at Ron, but decided that she was becoming entirely too punitive in her responses lately. 'Harry, don't you think that Ron should thank you-know-who for assisting us all with the "problem"? After all, a kindness is a kindness, and I know that "you-know-who" had goodness in his heart when he did what he did. Don't you agree Harry?'

There was much indication that Harry at this point should have dropped his toast and fled. Harry was of the opinion that Draco 'had' something all right, but what Draco "had" wasn't goodness and what Draco "had" was in fact, located to the far south of Draco's Slytherin heart, a bit north of his knees. Harry knew there was no answer that approximated the truth that would please Hermione.

'Don't you agree Harry?' demanded Hermione again.

'No. Goodness never has anything to do with Malfoy. That slimy Slytherin did what he did for no other reason than to get on your... good side. To please you, Malfoy could have just as readily set Ron on fire.'

'You are prejudiced,' Hermione sputtered, 'Ginny, can you make Harry and Ron see reason...?'

'I'm sorry,' said Ginny, wise beyond her years, 'were you speaking to me?'

Just outside the doors of the Great Hall another little chat was about to take place. Draco loitered outside the doors to the Great Hall. He stood leaning on the banister on the off chance that he might be lucky enough to corner his quarry alone. His luck held. Messalina walked up the stairs that lead to the doors of the Great Hall, accompanied by her older sister Blaise.

'Good morning ladies,' said Draco bowing slightly, poured on the charm. 'Might I have a word with you alone Messalina?'

Blaise whispered into her younger sister's ear and proceeded alone through the doors of the Great Hall. Messalina threw back her slender shoulders and glided over to Draco.

'What do you want Draco? You had better hurry before Greggers gets here.'

'Yes, Greggers. I just want to let you now that I think it's lovely that you are dating Goyle. You should know however, that if you hurt that boy, you will pay. That's all I want to say.' Draco motioned to step towards the Great Hall doors. Messalina grabbed the sleeve of Draco's robe and pulled him around. Draco stared at Messalina's hand on his robe as if he'd just noticed a grease stain.

'You have no right to interfere...' Messalina's pretty eyebrows made an angry V on her forehead.

'I have every right to interfere. Goyle and Crabbe are like my brothers, and if anyone treats them poorly, terrible, terrible things will happen; to someone. Say, do you like the new breakfast pot noodles the house-elves are serving up lately? Too rich for morning fare for my tastes, but everyone seems to love the stuff, especially the first and second years.' Draco seemed to have drifted off topic, as thought a review of the breakfast menu was all he had on his mind in the first place.

Messalina's angry look mercurially disappeared, and she broke into a bright smile. Throwing her arms around Draco's neck she lunged kissing him soundly on the mouth. For once, taken completely by surprise, Draco stood helpless, until Messalina backed off, a seductive smile on her face. She then dashed off to the Great Hall door, and as Draco turned around to watch the infernal witch, he saw Hermione standing in the doorway. Hermione looked at Draco with a furious expression on her face. Draco froze.

'Good morning Gryffindor,' trilled Messalina like a little bird as she breezed past Hermione.

I didn't do anything wrong, don't panic.

Draco looked helplessly at Hermione.

Hermione's face was a grim, angry mask; the sort that villagers used to set out to scare off evil spirits. Stiffly she walked towards Draco. Draco was so frightened of the oncoming catastrophe that he staggered backwards until he hit the staircase banister, like a cornered animal. Hermione looked ready to kill. Draco looked ready fling himself over the banister and escape.

'I can't believe it! I am so angry. No, I'm beyond angry,' Hermione said vehemently.

'Petals... I was standing here, I mean, I was talking to Messalina, but I, I,' Draco sputtered.

'Of all the ungrateful, stubborn... all morning and I can't convince Ron to apologize to you! Ron is beyond stubborn!'

'What? Did I miss something Petals?' asked Draco in a tiny voice that cracked a just a little.

'Ron. You rescued his sorry... oh, I shouldn't shout. Sorry.' Hermione seemed to have spent most of her fury already. 'You went out of your way to help him and he won't even thank you. After all the discomfort you went through for him!'

'But, didn't you see Messalina? She kissed me? Aren't you... cross?'

'Well, how could that evil Messalina help herself? You standing there all delicious and silky, smooth and everything?' Hermione smiled. 'Silly thing you!'

'But, but,' Draco could hardly believe his ears.

'Oh,' Hermione cooed sweetly, 'did that evil, evil, Slytherin harpy from Hades try to blackmail my poor Cocoa?'

'You trust me?' Hermione's trust in him was still a novelty for Draco.

'My Dray-cocoa, if you were sneaking around with one of those Zabini hussies, you'd hardly be doing it on the stairs in front of half the school, would you? But more than that, I know you would rather cut off your arm than harm Goyle.'

In a wild display of unbridled joy, Draco picked Hermione up into the air and swung her around. At long last, someone had his true measure.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, on a sunny afternoon, Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny gathered in the Gryffindor Commons, before heading down for Hagrid's hut for Sunday tea. When all were ready, they headed out of the castle. Hermione looked a bit glum. After a fantastic start to a great day, she'd ended the previous day in a bit of a tiff with Draco and they weren't quite at the kiss and make up stage yet. Harry and Ron would have been shocked to know that most of the Malfoy/Granger tiffs revolved around Draco's attempts to complete his schoolwork and rein in Hermione's amorous behaviour.

'Are you all right Hermione?' asked Harry in a sympathetic voice. 'Anything we can do?' Harry took Hermione's hand and gave it a little squeeze. 'Hang some blonde by the thumbs? Toss some rich git into the lake? Perhaps beat some selfish Slytherin cad into tiny pieces for you?'

'You're so considerate Harry.' Hermione tried to repress a smile. 'Nothing is wrong, just a rough patch.'

'A rough patch?' snorted Ron. 'A patch named Malf...'

Ron's observation was interrupted by Ginny, who took two quick little half hops, built momentum and kicked her brother's shin. Like her Mother, Ginny believed in keeping the many Weasley boys in line, especially Ron.

'OOOWWWW!' Ron yelped. He grabbed Ginny's arm and the two stood still while Harry and Hermione walked on ahead. Ron sputtered angrily at his sister, 'Why you little... Here! Why didn't you kick Harry? He said...'

'Because Harry isn't besotted with Hermione but you are,' whispered Ginny. 'You behave like a prat.'

'Then we're even, you're a brat and a sorry excuse for a little sister,' said Ron, rubbing his shin while hopping forward to catch up with his two mates. 'You ought to be on my side.'

'Oh Ron, grow up!' Ginny skipped along beside Ron. 'How could you grow up with Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and even Percy and still not get it?'

'Get what?' Ron swung a hand at Ginny, who nimbly skipped out of his way.

Ginny trotted up to Harry and Hermione. Harry looked over at Ginny and he smiled and winked at her. 'Atta girl Ginny,' Harry whispered, 'whip some sense into him, eh?' Harry, always rather enjoyed Ron vs. Ginny antics.

Hermione saw Harry's wink and noted with some puzzlement that there was no response at all from Ginny who seemed to be ignoring Harry. Hermione looked closely at Harry and she thought she saw a look of disappointment flash across his face, as though he'd napped and woke to find that he'd missed the snack trolley on the Hogwarts Express.

Despite the little mysteries and Ron's sore shin, everyone's spirits were up. Sometimes it takes a nice kick in the symbolic arse to clear the air. The little group were chatting and laughing by the time they reached Hagrid's hut. No one saw much of Hagrid since the start of the term. Hagrid did not return to school until the second week of October. At the start of term the long-standing tradition of Hagrid 'rowing in the first years' was interrupted when Flitwick brought in the first years. Hagrid was a little sombre, but apparently was successful in his secret mission which he undertook at the request of Dumbledore.

Hagrid had gone all out for his young guests. His broad table was spread with a bright red and yellow tablecloth with almost no patches on it at all. Set proudly on the cloth were lovely teacups, nearly all of which matched. No doubt about it, the spread was uncommonly nice considering Hagrid's usual fare. Hagrid had of course prepared the house specialty - rock cakes. But he also spent good brass on a nearly exotic array of treats that he purchased in Hogsmeade. There were soft and fluffy - yes, fluffy I tell you - scones. Succulent jam tarts sat on a lazy Susan along with pretty pots of red and purple jams, preserves and lemon curd. There were two plates; one of poppy seed biscuits, and one of green biscuits with red flecks, which no one tried, although everyone praised the biscuits for uniqueness. A kettle bubbled merrily on the hob.

'Oh Hagrid,' they exclaimed. 'This is all lovely!' All four were touched.

'My, you've all grown so,' said Hagrid with great sentimentality, when the group was seated politely around his table sipping tea and buttering scones. 'Seems like only yesterday you lot were just knee high to grasshoppers.' Tears trickled from Hagrid's shoe button black eyes.

'Ginny is still knee high to a grasshopper,' said Ron with a big smile at his little sister who sat next to him. It was Ron's way of letting Ginny know that he was sorry for their tiff. Ginny smiled back at Ron and mouthed silently, 'pillock.'

'Now Hagrid,' seeing Hagrid's tears Hermione waxed a little sentimental herself. 'Oh, don't cry Hagrid. We ought to enjoy what good times we have together,' Hermione poured tea for everyone. The plate of scones was passed around.

'Yeah,' said Ron with a sigh. 'Never know when one of us might get carried away by... oh, I don't know... a lunatic, undercover death-eater - a blonde one with a rich dad and a stick up his arse.'

Hermione turned her head slowly to face Ron who sat across the table from her; damn the ban on punitive behaviour. She bunged a rock cake that missed Ron but ricocheted off the wall and hit Fang.

'Ki, ki, ki, ki, ki!' the immense boarhound cried.

'See? Hermione's balmy,' Ron rolled his eyes.

Ginny hauled off and booted Ron under the table.

'OOWWW!' yelped Ron. 'Bloody hell Ginny, if you do that one more time!' Ron rubbed his doubly aching shinbone.

'Ginny! Hermione! Now what's this all about?' Hagrid looked askance at Hermione, who seemed inclined to lob another rock cake at Ron. 'What's our Ron done?'

Harry, now used to, but not enthusiastic about his referee status said with waning patience, 'Hagrid. Hermione is dating and Ron is not handling the thing well.'

'Oh, our Hermione has a beau? That's wonderful,' said Hagrid brightening. 'Ron, that's good news now isn't it? Who is the lucky young man?' Hagrid's eyes glittered with happiness. 'A Gryffindor? Maybe young Neville?'

'Neville?' Ron snorted rudely.

Harry grinned. 'Neville has a girlfriend, a 6^th year from Ravenclaw.'

'That's wonderful then, isn't it? And what about Hermione? Is Hermione's beau Finnegan or Thomas? Not one of you is it?' Hagrid winked at Harry.

'No, I'm not the lucky one,' said Harry grinning.

'No, not one of us,' said Ron woodenly. 'Oh no, heavens forbid that,' on the floor behind Ron, Fang scratched about his floppy ears. With a loud bang the hound's foot thumped heavily on the wooden floor. Ron leapt up out of his seat, his face blanching. Hagrid jumped too. He did not know of Ron's 'spider nerves'. It would be another couple of weeks before Ron could hear a loud noise and not attempt to leap out of his own skin.

'Ha!' said Hermione to Ron. She slumped in her seat, her hands clutching her teacup so tightly that Hagrid worried to himself whether the delicate cup would survive the tea. Perhaps he ought to use the tin cups the next time he gave a tea for the group.

Ron sat back down, still trembling just a little from residual spider nerves.

'Hermione,' asked Harry overly politely. 'May I tell Hagrid the identity of your 'sweetums'?

Hermione glared ferociously at Harry - never a good sign. With a nasty edge to her voice she said, 'suit yourself Harry, I don't care,' she then looked a little guilty. 'I'm sorry Harry. Some of my friends are still loyal.' She gingerly reached over to pat Harry's hand, while simultaneously fixing a dismissive look at Ron.

'Hagrid,' said Harry, 'Hermione is uh... she's, you see... Hermione is 'dating' Malfoy.

Hagrid upset his teacup.

'Hagrid,' said Ron. 'Hermione is 'uh, she's, you see,' snogging Malfoy. Comes crawling back into the Commons at all hours with a great big simpering grin on her face, acting all syrupy and...'

Hagrid threw his head back and laughed. 'Ha, ha, ha! That's a good one that is,' Hagrid wiped the tears of laughter off the corners of his eyes. 'Yes, that's wonderful! HAA, HAAA, snort, snort, HA, HAAAAA! Now, tell me Hermione, who is your young man?'

'Hagrid.' Harry said quietly. 'Hermione's 'young man' is Draco Malfoy. Really.'

'Pardon? What'd you say Harry?' Hagrid stared at the four as if they'd turned into all sprouted elephants trunks in front of his eyes. 'Blimey. Hermione with Malfoy?'

'Draco is a sweet, considerate, gentle boy,' Hermione was still glaring at Ron. 'who treats me with respect, kindness and complete honesty. A young man who had no trouble telling me about his feelings for me. A young man who...'

'A young man who will use you and toss you into the dust bin when he's done with you.' said Ron stubbornly.

'Right, then.' said Harry quickly. 'Hagrid, any more of the nice lemon curd?'

Hermione lobbed another rock cake, missing Ron and missing Fang who ki, ki, ki'ed anyway. The girl was not as skilled as Slytherin girls at pitching,

Munching a rock cake that hadn't taken a trip towards Ron's head as yet, Hagrid gave consideration to leaving his own hut until the young folk worked out their angst.

'See?' Ron said petulantly wagging a finger at Hermione. 'A few weeks with Draco and she's frightening innocent dogs and pulling wands on people behind their backs!'

'What? You pulled your wand on somebody Hermione?' Hagrid ventured, and immediately regretting his question.

'I pull my wand on dim little boys who can't speak their mind and fuss when others do what they can't do or don't want to do,' Hermione looked ready to ignite with anger. Her knuckles were white on the arms of her chair. Hermione rose. 'Thank you Hagrid. I appreciate the tea. It was lovely, really. I hope we can get together again very soon,' she turned to face Ron and with a strange twisted smile, she called out, 'Ta, ta!'

The 'ta ta' sounded to all, rather like 'Drop dead Ron.'

Fang rose and rapidly stumped to the rear of the hut out of harm's way.

Hermione snatched her jumper, scarf and hat, from the hook by the door, and let herself out.

When Hermione had gone, Hagrid let out a long low whistle. 'Hermione's in a bit of a snit.'

'Because Ron can't keep his big mouth shut,' said Ginny rounding on her stubborn brother.

'I am sick of this,' said Harry with a long sigh, 'I loathe that shite Malfoy as much as the next Gryffindor. I don't trust the manky little prawn any farther than I can hurl a disarming spell at him. But damn it,' Harry turned to face Ron head on. 'If Hermione fancies the ratbag it's her choice. Not ours.'

Hagrid's eyebrows shot up at hearing Harry's rather relaxed vocabulary. They grow up so fast.

Harry looked to Hagrid. 'I feel rotten that I don't trust Malfoy - feels rather like I'm betraying Hermione,' Harry turned an annoyed and but sympathetic look toward Ron.

Harry continued. 'Ron, don't you see how happy Hermione is... generally? After she, um... takes her 'walks' with Malfoy, you know, when they "see" each other, afterwards Hermione practically floats on air.'

Ron shot Harry a look that plainly said, 'and you don't think that is reason enough to worry?'

'Harry,' Ron gestured towards a scowling Ginny. 'Careful, the 'ister-say is 'istening lay'.

'Ron,' said Ginny, 'I'm only one year behind you, not ten. Nothing you or Harry have to say can shock me. I think I know my way around the Astronomy Tower, thank you very much.'

Shocked at Ginny's news, Harry and Hagrid sprayed hot tea out of their mouths like fountains. Ron couldn't spray coffee because he hadn't touched a bite to eat, or a sip of tea.

Ginny smugly sank back into her chair and bit into a poppy seed biscuit.

Ginny sat enjoying the shocked looks on the faces of the other three at the table. She wiped a little tea spray from her cheek with a cloth napkin. 'You three have no idea,' said Ginny knowingly. 'Honestly Ron. The happier Hermione is, the more rotten you become. Are you Hermione's friend or not?'

Harry thought he couldn't have said it better himself.

Ron said flatly, 'I'm the only one here who is Hermione's true friend. You lot are the ones who seem to have forgotten what a real friend is. Malfoy is bad news and you know it - especially you Harry - and you're too cowardly to...'

Ginny shot bolt upward in her chair. Ron almost overturned his chair leaping out of the way of Ginny's rapid flying trainer. 'Your DARE to call Harry a, a, COWARD? Oooo! Ron Weasley, you are the most...'

'Now, now!' shouted Hagrid, eyes wide, looking shocked to hear the "children" sniping at each other. 'Remember all you've been through here at Hogwarts over the years. That's no small thing that. I'll say this, if our Hermione has her cap set on Malfoy, assuming she isn't under a spell, then there must be more to the Malfoy lad than meets the eye. Maybe Hermione is right. Maybe Malfoy has changed. That'd be good news, wouldn't it?'

~*~*~*~*~*~

On a sunny Friday afternoon, Draco and Hermione passed on lunch in the great hall, in favour of treats from the most recently delivered snack hamper in their greenhouse hideaway. Hermione was developing a genuine penchant for Fugu caviar on tips of toast.

Thus far in their relationship, Draco diligently kept things at the snog level. However, two things were becoming increasingly obvious to him; Hermione was pushing to graduate from snogging to actual shagging, and it was increasingly difficult for him to get any studying done. Without giving an indication that he was purposely keeping the 'let's shag' issue a dead one, Draco laboured like a house-elf to keep Hermione 'stupefyingly-stupendously-within-an-inch-of-her-life-orgasmically-satisfied'. And make no mistake, it was damned hard work.

One afternoon the two ran across each other between classes, and skived off their afternoon responsibilities escaping to the northern greenhouse. Much of the afternoon was spent in a particularly vigorous and deliciously nasty sort of snog session. Anyone passing by the greenhouse would have noticed the side windows were fogged up like the rear seat of a Ford Anglia on prom night. If Draco's Quidditch mates ever wondered how he managed to keep in such great shape without ever seeming to exercise along with them, the answer would have become abundantly clear if they could have been a billywig on the wall in the hideaway.

'Hold on, I have to take out this stupid thhunngg ffuugggnn ssshhuudd,' Draco stuck his fingers in his mouth and removed his newest tongue stud. 'Mmmnnnnawww and my tongue and lips are so bruised I look like I've spent the afternoon snogging a werewolf.'

Although no doubt a werewolf would have been satisfied a bit sooner.

So much sweat dripped from Draco's head that his hair appeared several shades darker. His fringe was plastered to his head, as was Hermione's. However, Hermione was the only one who sported an effervescent smile.

'So Hermione, all said and done, I'm going to make a start at my Transfiguration reading.' Draco reached past Hermione and grabbed his rucksack. 'I haven't even started on it and your bloody McGonagall promised there'd be a quiz tomorrow. Well. So. Where's my text?' Draco dug busily, pulling out texts and scrolls.

Draco always attempted to use logic when reasoning with Hermione. Hermione always had respect for logic and reason - unless she was feeling randy, which now accounted for most of her waking hours.

Draco didn't think that the afternoon's snogging had exactly taken the edge off of his own randiness, but he was reasonably sure that it took the edge off that of the indomitable Miss Granger.

Once again, he was wrong.

Even with Draco making concerted efforts to be studious, Hermione's hands kept stroking Draco's bare back, and fondling his bum through his ever-present trousers. It is difficult to read one's Transfiguration text, while someone tried to transfigure your bum.

'You are a selfish girl; think only of yourself,' Draco said harshly. He pulled Hermione's hand off of his backside. He glared at her briefly, and turned back to his reading.

And this stupid greenhouse hideaway was my brilliant idea.

No longer kneading Draco's bottom, Hermione now massaged his back. She kissed the soft peach fuzz that lined the back of the Draco's neck. The poor lad couldn't repress a shiver.

'See reason Petals,' Draco admonished, 'Do you want your name to go down in A History of Hogwarts Unspeakably Naughty Underage Witches? You're a right match for the chapter entitled Witches Whose Boyfriend's Lips Fell Off From Overuse. Don't look at me like that. There is such a book you know. It's right next to The Loves of Severus Snape. Well, really it's a pamphlet, and nearly all of it is rebuttal.'

'Don't scold,' Hermione snuggled against Draco, her long hair pressed against his skin. I can't help it if I can't get enough of you. You always say I study too much and here I've found the one thing I'd rather do than study and you want me to give it up.'

'Not give it up, tone it down. A bit.' Draco turned his head to give Hermione a gentle kiss on her cheek. 'Now my sweet, with all due respect, and don't be offended - get the hell out of my hideaway.'

'Your hideaway? You said this is our hideaway.' Hermione did not take Draco seriously for one moment. 'You spent all afternoon kissing me... everywhere. I never knew kissing could be such an art. And your hands...' Hermione giggled wickedly. 'How can you expect me to stop as if you turned off a switch? I, I have rights you know!'

'Hermione, do I hear you correctly, 'rights'?' The tired wizard sat up looking seriously annoyed. 'Am I to understand that you have rights like those dim little house-elves you dote on? Do you have badges for your newest S.P.E.W. organization; 'Stupendous Penises for Eager Witches' or 'Slippery Peckers for Energetic Wenches'?'

With a weak smile Draco gave Hermione a small shove. 'Go on. Get back to your commons. The first years are probably writing on the Gryffindor walls with crayons and here you are trying to shag me when I've loads of studying to do.' He crossed his legs, making a pretence of organizing his textbooks and scrolls.

'But Dray-cocoa,' Hermione ran her fingers over Draco's chest. 'You aren't being fair... to yourself.'

'Yes, I know Petals. Honestly, I do but... I'm o.k.'

Tell her arse-hole, just tell her. Come on. Just open your mouth and tell her.

'Draco. I know you aren't ready to actually shag - yet - which is perfectly all right. I just want you to know that I am ready. I mean, when you are.' Pushing Draco's text away, Hermione insinuated her naked self on Draco's lap. This time she hadn't even kept her socks on. She pushed Draco so the two fell back against the pile of colourful pillows.

Hermione noticed that as she wriggled on Draco lap, the poor boy's face grew red and took on a look that could only be described as one of complete and absolute panic.

'Don't look so worried dear. I'm feeling really... um... satisfied.' She wondered why Draco looked so upset. 'I believe you call it being stupefyingly-stupendously-within-an-inch-of-my-life-orgasmically-satisfied?' I am you know. But you aren't. I only want to reciprocate. I want to do for you what you do for me. Isn't that fair? Wouldn't that be nice for you?'

'Please Petals,' desperate, Draco pushed Hermione off of himself, completely. He shoved a few pillows on the carpet and laid stomach down in front of his Transfiguration textbook. He began to fuss again with the sheets of parchment. There still hovered an air of panic about the boy. He said, 'I'm damned satisfied enough already.' The lie rolled off Draco's tongue without a hitch and he launched into the next string of lies with just as much feigned bravado. 'When you've had years of sexual experience as I have, it gets to be rather old hat. I don't have to drop my trousers every time to get the most out of a... a situation.'

On his stomach, Draco could not bring himself to twist around and look up at Hermione. The girl had once again busied herself climbing onto Draco's bare back; she was as soft as a unicorn foal's nose, against his skin. Draco knew Hermione wasn't buying his argument. He didn't buy it, why should she?

Hermione knew he was lying. She heard the lie in Draco's tight voice, and could sense it in his uneasy manner. Confused, but still playful, Hermione jiggled a pair of her attributes on Draco's bare back. Hermione was surprised to hear Draco stifle a noise that was created as a deep moan but escaped his throat as a piteous, low squeak.

'But Dray-cocoa, afterwards you always claim it's "old hat" for you. That you needn't drop your trousers.' Hermione was genuinely perplexed. 'But you never, ever drop your trousers! For all I know, you could have a real chicken's head down there.' Hermione boldly thrust her hand into the waistband of Draco's trousers and under his body in a precise grab for the object of her concern.

Draco's response was instantaneous and explosive. He bolted upwards with such force that Hermione's head hit the bench overhead and she was flung onto her back. Draco lunged away from Hermione as if the girl had turned into a live scorpion. Draco's grey eyes were wide, his face dead white and he gasped for breath like a large fish out of water. He trembled.

'How DARE you,' he gulped. 'I could have... GET OUT OF HERE!' He bellowed, raging. He reached over to a seedling Ghost Flower plant snatching a lacy article of clothing from a limb. 'Here, put on your brazier and get out!'

'It's called a brassier.'

'I don't care what you Muggles call it, get it on,' He scrambled around tossing Hermione's knickers and other articles of her clothing at her. 'Take these and get the hell away from me!'

Hermione's face was an open book. The inevitable tears welled up and dripped down Hermione's cheeks. Without even bothering to fully dress, she pulled her school robes over her head, and snatched up her school bag and the rest of her clothing. Scrambling, she made it to the hideaway entrance and crawled out.

Draco sat back on his haunches, trying to steady his breathing and waited for his hard-on to subside, only it stubbornly refused to do so; the damned thing throbbed in his trousers. And worse, the more he thought of Hermione scrambling to snatch up her clothing and retreat with that hurt look on her face, the more he ached; in his heart and in his trousers. On his knees, he doubled over, feeling a wave of sickening nausea. He wondered if he was going to puke and come at the same time.

He was dazed; things went from controlled to chaotic so quickly. One minute he and his darling Petals were chatting and joking, and the next that infernal witch was grabbing at him. Draco's skin still felt sensitive where her hand slid into his trousers, her fingers reaching. She hadn't touched her goal, but then the shock of her behaviour had just the same effect. He thought again about how close Hermione came to actually touching him. Draco shuttered and dry heaved.

The whole thing was his fault entirely. He ought to have broken up with the witch weeks ago, as he had done with Pansy, Blaise, Terry, Messalina and the others. He ought to have kept moving, so Hermione wouldn't have been allowed to stay long enough to expect such 'things' from him. He ought to have 'dumped' her. Instead he behaved like an ass with no responsibilities, allowing her get closer and closer to his heart until it was too late. He couldn't walk away. Draco wanted Hermione so much he thought he might just die if he couldn't properly make love to her the way they both wanted so desperately. Draco sat still doubled up, his head on his knees. Late at night whenever the nightmares woke him, he kept calm thinking about what it would be like to take Hermione the way he longed to do. She was his "Petals" and she wanted him to shag her, right? The incongruity of the opposing thoughts of "she wants me" and "I want her" and "not going to happen" drove Draco to the edge of delirium. He knew exactly what he wanted and that was the one thing in his life that he couldn't barter, bully or beg for.

His head felt giddy, he panted, his mouth open, and the saliva drooled from the corner of his lips. Draco cried out shaking with anger, 'Damn the Malfoy obligations. Damn my family, and fuck - FUCK the Dark Lord all to pieces!'

With a cry of anger, he threw himself down on the floor pillows. Drawing his knees up, he lay on his side, ripped open his trousers and shoved his hands in, groaning at his own touch. He lay still, his eyes pinched shut trying to block out feelings of shame and humiliation. With his eyes shut he could easily envision the sweetness that was Hermione; the pretty face, the silky feel of her skin, her voice, and every other thing he loved about her. He breathed in loud gasps as he moved his hand rapidly until he felt impaled, on the edge of what he was so largely denied control over. He felt the great catch in his gut from the oncoming, spreading wave of heat and uncontrolled spasms that always felt satisfying to him in the most unsatisfying way imaginable. He threw himself into it, hissing and moaning even as the slender blue flames shot out of his nostrils. The flames cracked, sounding like broken twigs. He murmured 'Hermione' over and over again. Then he lay quiet, his eyes still tightly shut, feeling helpless. Draco burrowed his face into his arms on the pile of pillows. His shoulders began to shake with sobs that his body wanted to release, but that he stubbornly wasn't going to give in to. His face burned, his throat was almost too constricted to allow him his gasping breath. He wouldn't cry, but he could scream, and rail against all of it and he did. It was all so fucking unfair.