Draco's Delicate Condition

Chapter 9 - Deciding Factors

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor seating at the stadium high above the other Gryffindors. From time to time she gloomily looked up from her research to watch her usual stadium mates, Harry, Ron and Ginny engaged in the aerial grudge match over the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff battled fiercely for dominance but into its second hour the score stood, neck and neck at 140 to 160 points. The Gryffindor team struggled to gain advantage over the 'Almighty Hufflepuff' - two words no one at Hogwarts had uttered in the same sentence for decades.

Hermione enjoyed Quidditch matches less and less. The ferocity of the game took away any pleasure the game used to hold for her, as did her fear that players, especially her friends, might be injured if not outright killed. The players flew so swiftly now in games, Hermione couldn't even enjoy watching the beauty of the individual player's movements. To Hermione the game was like watching red poppy and yellow tulip petals carried along by maelstrom winds. Quidditch matches were now watched, heart in throat, gazing in horrified fascination. Hermione gasped as she watched a bludger collide with a Gryffindor, a friend. Quickly she dropped her eyes to stare at a textbook by her side on the bench.

She sat bundled up in her winter jacket, one glove off so she could ruffle Draco's pale hair like a worry stone to calm her nerves. Five minutes into the game Draco had fallen asleep stretched out on the bench, his head snuggled on Hermione's lap snoozing as peacefully as a baby. He was, bundled up in his beloved black cloak, drool dribbling from the corner of his pink lips, forming a small puddle on Hermione's lap.

"This has got to be love," Hermione muttered to herself.

In his sleep Draco flipped onto his back muttering, "No, don' fight girls, 'nough me for all of you... I promisshhhhhhh."

"For heavens sakes," Hermione said, smiling in spite of herself. She grasped a handful of Draco's pale hair and gave a ferocious yank.

"OOOWWWW!" One grey eye opened. Draco looked groggily up and whinged, "Wha'd you do tha' for?"

Hermione pointed to the sky, where Harry navigated the air in a zigzag pattern for no reason that Hermione could understand. "Draco, make yourself useful. What's Harry doing?"

The grey eye flicked to the sky briefly. "Flying," came Draco's listless and totally useless answer. He shut his eye and moments later came again the sound of soft snoring. A new drool pool formed.

"Should have left you in the Great Hall, to fall asleep in your porridge," said Hermione. "And no doubt water it down a bit."

Hermione resumed stroking Draco's silky hair. It was less than 48 hours since he confided in her what his 'problem' was. At the time she expected him to confess some trivial matter that he'd obsessed over, but his problem was anything but trivial.

Another twenty minutes passed. Hermione broke into a pained whimper as she watched George Weasley take a bludger to the hip that caused him to plummet nearly 50 feet before he recovered himself. Then Fred joined his twin and the two cobbed, used excessive elbowing, a foul, on the Hufflepuff beater that delivered George's blow. Cobbing was the least offensive illegal move going on during the game. Such vicious moves were continuously in action during the game that by comparison cobbing was practically a love tap. The twins forced the Hufflepuff beater into a collision course with another Hufflepuff player. Hermione winced, but the students in the Gryffindor stands below her exploded into cheers at Fred and George's clever moves. Hermione sighed. That was Quidditch these days, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. She thought if continued the way they were going, everyone was going to be toothless and blind.

Draco's eyes popped open, his head still nestled on Hermione's lap. "Morning Petals!" He yawned broadly, sat up ruffling his hair and scratching. Hermione smiled, grateful they were someplace where Draco could indulge himself in overtly boyish scratches of varied and sundry places upon his person; a tick left over from his 'spider allergy'.

"So Draco, now that you are awake, will you tackle those books you agreed to look through? This is for your benefit after all," Hermione said.

A pile of ten or eleven untouched texts sat one row down on the bench in front of Draco. He smiled sleepily at Hermione. Stretching out his legs, he accidentally-on-purpose kicked the books, toppling them through open space beneath the stadium benches, sending most of the texts plummeting seventy-five feet through the scaffolding.

"Oops," said Draco, peering through the planking to watch the books growing smaller and smaller as they fell. "That's a shame, isn't it?"

"Draco, how could you?" She was stunned. Hermione did not hold with damage to books and could not have been more upset had Draco shoved a baby house-elf down the scaffolding.

Hermione put her text down. "I know you think you are quite clever but you are going to retrieve and repair the damage to those books." She darted sideways to avoid a 'morning mouth' kiss from her drooling lover.

"I'm the one who just woke up, so why are you the one that's crabby?" asked Draco sarcastically, annoyed to be cheated out of a rare chance for a good morning kiss.

"I was thinking Draco."

"See that's the problem," said Draco in a clear attempt to further annoy Hermione. "You aren't equipped for thinking Petals. You're equipped for," Draco made a second dive with intent to kiss, which Hermione also avoided, this time by leaping out of her seat and onto the stadium stairs.

Hermione frowned. "Stop that Draco," she retook her seat. "You know, I suspect there must be an enchantment on you that keeps you complacent so you can't help yourself. Why else would you be so unconcerned about finding a solution to your 'problem'."

"Oh, Petals, do shut up about the spell. I don't want to hear anything else about the bloody spell," Draco's spurt of morning happiness abruptly gone. "The damned spell is all you go on about anymore."

"Yes, I'm sure of it dear. You must be under a long-term complacency potion. We made a similar one last year in Potions class, do you recall?" Hermione looked upset. "Draco, I can't imagine it was easy for your parents to keep control over a precocious and wayward wizard like yourself any other way than using a potion to control your normal desire to rid yourself of the spell. Otherwise I bet you'd have figured a way out of it on your own by now."

Draco sighed and launched into the same tired quarrel. "Petals, you will not research my 'predicament' any more. I forbid it." To make his point 'stick' with the girl, Draco reached past Hermione. Before she realized what he was up to, Draco tipped her books onto the floor beneath the bench and stretched out his foot shoving the books through the scaffolding. He watched the batch of texts toppling downwards through space, after the other books he dumped earlier. "There they go!"

Draco drew back from Hermione and held up a warning finger. "And don't you dare slap me," said Draco irritably. "So help me, I'll slap you back." It was a bold threat, but also an empty one and they both knew it.

"I told you, I don't slap or hit anymore," said Hermione indignantly. She was positively itching to smack Draco until the blonde fell off his hair.

"I'm sorry about the books Petals," said Draco utterly unrepentant. "But I had to make a point. I told you several times already that I forbid you to research the spells I'm bound to."

"Rhubarb!" shouted Hermione stubbornly. "Why did you tell me about your problem if you didn't wish for assistance?"

"I do not 'wish' for assistance. I never asked for assistance. I just wanted," Draco couldn't bring himself to say that he wanted to share ideas that overwhelmed him. He wanted comfort from fear. "I don't know. I wanted something but not you nosing about stirring up trouble."

Draco was uncomfortable. The girl was driving him insane with her persistent insistence that there was a 'cure' for him. The girl was adamant that if only she lived at the damned the library pouring through endless stupid and ridiculously thick volumes of claptrap, she would find a 'cure'. Draco was certain of just the opposite; there was no cure. Draco felt if Hermione was so concerned for his welfare she ought to see what he truly needed was to keep his spirits up. And nothing would do more to keep his spirit, and sundry bits, up more than some wholesome snogging. Oh, and groping, lots of groping. How could he get what he truly needed if Hermione spent every spare moment in the stupid library?

"Enough fighting, that's no fun," coaxed Draco. "Come on Petals, why don't we snog? Come here." Draco swiftly moved closer to Hermione and tried to place an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. She found Draco's lack of concern towards his condition sinister.

"I've torn the library up Draco, and I can't find a single reference to the Dark Lord's spell on you, it's as if..."

"Are you stone deaf witch?" Draco, angrily faced Hermione. It was time to lay down the law once and for all, for the witch's own good. "Do you know what I used to do with stubborn girlfriends that refused to heed my wishes? I used to do horrible things that left marks." A vein on Draco's forehead throbbed. "DO I MAKE MYSELF UNDERSTOOD WITCH?" he bellowed with the sort of ferocity that made his Slytherin Quidditch team players write home to their parents requesting transfers to Beaubaton.

As Hermione watched Draco raging, it crossed her mind that the young wizard most resembled his dreadful father Lucius Malfoy when furious, when Draco's eyes blazed with outrage and indignation. Hermione listened to Draco raging and then accessed her own arsenal of weapons. Meek as a mouse, in a voice full of sympathy she said, "poor Dray-cocoa. We can discuss the matter later when you're calm." She reached over and stroked Draco's cheek.

Draco's eyes flared down. In fact, he shut his eyes for a moment and was about to sigh happily before he realized that Hermione was at him with the castration knife again. He snorted with annoyance, and threw himself down on his back angrily, several feet from Hermione. He briefly wondered if Hermione would fit down the scaffolding where the books had gone. For distraction, Draco finally began to pay attention to the Quidditch match raging overhead. The game seemed another world entirely.

The game was into its third hour of nearly continuous game time. Around the stadium fouls were committed with such frequency the game might have been solely for the demonstration of how not to play the game. That was how Quidditch was played at Hogwarts now - a win at any cost.

Harry circled the pitch, still giddy from a bludger blow he'd taken earlier in the game. He was angry and trying to fight the urge to give into the anger. He needed his wits about him to find the damned snitch and get to it before being caught by 'the other damned blonde', as Harry now thought of Hannah. By comparison, Quidditch matches against Slytherin now seemed like amiable tea parties. Slytherin played with determination but eventually as matches wore on, Slytherin players slacked a bit, growing tired or even bored. After all, Quidditch is a game. Hufflepuff was not playing a game; Hufflepuff waged a revengeful war. Hufflepuff never ceased their vigilance to eliminate their opponents nor did they let up on their striving to score. This match was already so vicious that Madame Hooch called a momentary time out during which she lambasted the Hufflepuff team captain. Captain Brockland stood stony faced, listening to Hooch rave on and on about an appalling lack of good sportsmanship, and an unprecedented use of fouls. Things were slightly more controlled when the match resumed, but not for long. Hufflepuff was no more to be controlled than a wild badger in a trap.

Harry scanned the bright skies through eyes narrowed into thin green slits. During the game he'd spotted the snitch no less than four times already and each time as he barreled after the snitch, the Hufflepuff team focused their energies towards brutally beating Harry out of the sky. Harry was using a strategy Ron suggested, and the strategy was suddenly in play again as Harry again spotted the snitch hovering immobile a few feet below the Hufflepuff goal hoops. As soon as Harry spotted the snitch he averted his eyes, and maneuvered himself to the snitch's vicinity carefully so that Abbot would not see that he was onto the snitch. Harry was fifteen feet from the snitch before he swerved on his Firebolt and accelerating down towards the tiny sphere. Nearly instantaneously as Harry dove, a bludger slammed his shoulder, already injured earlier in the game. Harry yelped in pain and his Firebolt briefly spun off target. Furious, using his good arm and body weight as counterbalance, Harry quickly twisted upwards and was again on track. To Harry's disgust, as he headed full speed towards the snitch, so tantalizingly close, the uncooperative thing took off plowing forward through the air, only about ten feet from Harry's outstretched fingers.

Seconds after Harry made his initial lunge for the snitch, Abbott, mid height above the stadium dove, down to the pitch. The stadium spectators were stunned by her move, assuming something was wrong. Why wasn't the seeker headed at for the snitch? Hannah traversed across the pitch heading rapidly to intersect the snitch from below. The strategy was for Hannah to fly low so the Hufflepuff team to wreck pure havoc on Gryffindor team players without fear of injuring their seeker. Bludgers from both teams flew like cannon balls. The Gryffindor team fought like their lion mascot surrounding Harry and blocking bludgers for him. But the Badger too is no slouch in viciousness. Hufflepuff, as Ginny had warned, changed strategies instantly.

From the stands Draco watched Hufflepuff. He was put in mind of a flock of many birds, wheeling and synchronously turning on a Knut. Only these were not innocent wheeling pigeons or shore birds, the Hufflepuff were Peregrines Falcons hurtling after prey. The Hufflepuff broke up the mass of Gryffindor players effectively then quickly wheeled apart to individually harass Gryffindor chasers and beaters. The Hufflepuff careening into the Gryffindor team's players continuously and it would have taken a dozen Madame Hoochs to keep the game under control.

Abbott shot up from the pitch under the snitch's path rising rapidly; grabbing the snitch only seconds after Harry took the bludger that snapped his shinbone.

Hermione cried out. She jolted as Draco, sitting alongside her now, let loose an ear splitting scream of his own.

Draco was focused, his face a mask of disgust. He gawked in shock at the intense aggressiveness of the Hufflepuff team. Horrified, Draco watched his rival Potter, a fellow seeker, plummet from the sky and thud into the deep sand of the pitch. Draco winced in sympathy as he heard the hated Potter's single piteous yelp, his broken leg bouncing on the pitch sand.

Draco was no fan of pain. A quiver of fear washed over Draco filling him with shame because what he saw below on the pitch frightened him. He needed to act, to do something. He jumped up onto the bench. Eyeing the Hufflepuff team, his dark anger erupted like a kettle set to boil. Hermione jumped at Draco's screaming, which was so loud she was certain his vocal cords would be injured.

"YOU HUFFLEPUFF ARE A LOT OF CHEATING COWARDS! HUFFLEPUFF HAS NO HONOR!" Draco raged, shaking both fists in the air.

Considering the Slytherin version of Quidditch, Hermione thought Draco had rather a lot of nerve.

The screaming Gryffindors below slowly noticed the screaming above their stands and turned in amazement, to a Slytherin team Captain, up in their Gryffindor stands shouting angry words over and over like a mantra.

"HUFFLEPUFF HAS NO HONOR!"

Finally, his vocal chords aflame, Draco stood silently on the bench top. Hermione climbed onto the bench and taking Draco's arm attempted to convince him to sit. Draco shook her away. He strode back and forth along the bench like a caged black panther. He was ghostly, his pale features in stark contrast to his black cloak with its large Slytherin coat-of-arms patch. He clenched his gloved fists anticipating the inevitable.

Come on you manky little shite, I'm waiting for you.

Victory was again with the Hufflepuff, standing undefeated for the school term. Lead by Captain Brockland, the Hufflepuff team began their victory lap around the pitch to celebrate their win. Already Madame Hooch was speeding on her broomstick behind the team, bellowing under the influence of the voice enhancing Sonorus spell, shouting over the noise of the immense stadium. The Hufflepuff team had taken to celebrating their victories with thrilling and treacherous stunts that appalled the Hogwarts teaching staff but delighted Hogwarts students.

Madame Hooch called after the Hufflepuff team, her golden eyes blazing like an eagle on the attack.

"If you Hufflepuff try another of those hooligan, victory diving stunts you'll find your house out of the running for the Quidditch cup altogether!"

At first, Madame Hooch's threats appeared to be working. Captain Brockland led the Hufflepuff team, joined by the team reserve players, along the perimeter of the pitch. Slowly the Hufflepuff flew lower and lower until the team members were equally spread from one another, circling the pitch perimeter at only six or seven feet above the sand. The Hufflepuff looked as docile as children circling on a merry-go-round.

Placated, Madame Hooch left the field.

No sooner was Hooch off the pitch, then the Hufflepuff all spun heading dead center to the middle of the pitch at maximum speed. The stadium erupted with cheers and shrieks as the entire Hufflepuff team pulled out their wands, still hurtled to center pitch. Their wands trailed bronze and blue sparkles. When a head on collision seemed imminent and the team members were so close to each other they could have stretched out their hands and tweaked each other's noses, the team shot straight up. In their trademark move each flier spun on their own axis like tops, hurtling upwards at full speed on their Starshotz 5000s. Seconds later at 30 feet above the ground, the team members continued their upward movement weaving around each other as though lacing ribbons of bronze and gold sparkles around a maypole forming a kinetic sculpture rising through the air. The stands erupted with cheering. Hufflepuff had pulled off another 'hooligan victory stunt'.

Madame Hooch was furious, but she had specified the punishment for 'diving stunts' not for 'heading for a headlong crash' stunts. On the Hooch made a decision to owl for pamphlets that described in detail, various sunny little retirement communities for magical folk in Mexico and the Caribbean.

As the team spiraled upwards into the sky and the yellow and bronze sparkles trailed the intricate pattern for hundreds of feet, Hannah spun out of her team's exercise. As the Hufflepuff team completed their detailed maneuvers, Hannah circled the stands by the Slytherin section, to flush out her quarry.

This was what Draco waited for. He jumped up and down screaming,

"ABBOTT YOU SCARY, SCROTTY SCRUFF! I'M HERE!"

Finally Hannah saw him and sped rapidly across the stadium, skidding to a midair halt four feet in front of Draco. Before she could say a word, Draco screamed at her as though the girl were fifty feet away.

"You are looking at Hufflepuff's downfall! Slytherin is going to tear all of Hufflepuff down to your miniature size and stuff you all back into the bloody badger hole where you belong!"

With unsettling calm Hannah eyed Draco and called, "Slytherin WILL go down next Malfoy."

"Captain Draco Malfoy Sir to you, Abbot. You depraved blonde twat!"

The stadium was dead quiet, listening to the rampage.

Hannah silently sat her broom in her usual queenly manner. She held the captured snitch in one hand, clutched by both wings. The golden orb could only jiggle and helplessly fight to use its wings within Hannah's grasp; the typical snitch buzzing noise absent.

A smile slowly spread across Hannah's face as she stared at Draco. Forcefully, the petite blond snapped a wing off the snitch and held the broken orb high in the air for all in the stadium to see. Then with an enraged look, the girl hurled the broken orb at Draco, who made no attempt to catch the impotent snitch. The orb bounced off Draco's chest and landed fluttering on the floor beneath the bench. Draco leapt down from the bench and took up the snitch. He couldn't bear to watch the orb beating its remaining wing against the ground, pivoting in a circle like a broken wind-up toy.

Hannah opened her mouth to speak again but before she could utter a word, Draco jumped, launching himself into the air at Hannah. Draco grabbed Hannah by the arms, yanking her from her broomstick. It was not clear exactly what went on as Draco and Hannah fell and tumbled down the stadium steps in a ball of Hufflepuff colors; yellow robes and black Slytherin cloak flying. As they tumbled and rolled down the stairs, Hannah screamed several times.

Hermione went dead white. "NO DRACO, STOP!" She leapt down the stadium steps after the tumbling pair.

A mob of Gryffindor students from the seating below charged up the stairs and leapt onto the pair, beating at Draco furiously and wresting the screaming Hannah from his arms. The Gryffindors pulled Draco to his feet, pinning his arms back, and fighting to keep the furious Slytherin from throwing himself back at Hannah. To everyone's surprise, it was equally as difficult to get Hannah to cease fighting and throwing herself at Draco. It took several Gryffindor boys to subdue Hannah, who surprised them all with the amount of strength in her petite seeker's body. Draco and Hannah each struggled to be freed of the Gryffindors.

"Hold on now," commanded Mathew Jones, a seventh year Gryffindor student taking charge. "This is gone far enough you two," he glared at both Draco and Hannah. Hannah looked ridiculously pitiful, held firmly by four robust boys, any one of which was easily twice her height and weight. Hannah flickered her blonde eyelashes, looking piteously up at Jones.

Draco recognized the flickered eyelash ploy. As a blonde he'd certainly used it to his own advantage with Hermione often enough. "You stinking little...!" screamed Draco before a Gryffindor boy brutally kneed Draco in groin. Draco doubled over, groaning, but he was barely distracted, not taking his angry grey eyes off of Hannah.

"Let Abbot go, come on, come on," said Jones impatiently.

The boys released Hannah, who shook herself angrily like a Peregrine rousing its feathers. She shook slightly and in a slightly tremulous voice asked, "Where is my broomstick?"

"Someone fetch Abbot's broomstick," commanded Jones.

"That's what we get for allowing a Slytherin in our section," shot a black haired forth year Gryffindor boy.

Hermione reached the group and heard the comment. She had nothing else available so she balled up her wool hat and flung it at the black haired boy. "You let Draco alone! Let him go!"

"Stay out of this Hermione," said Draco straightening up now that Hermione had arrived. He was deceptively tranquil - like an asp held in a warm hand on a cold morning.

Hannah walked up to Draco and said to his face, "Malfoy, you will pay for this."

"Abbot you scary little bint, you haven't begun to pay for," Draco, turned his head and seeing Hermione's horrified face and he curbed his rant somewhat. "I swear Abbot, you and that team of bumblebees are going down. And not in a nice way either."

Hannah stared hatefully at Draco.

Draco, astute at judging female fear, was surprised that there was no fear in Hannah's eyes. As the girl didn't fear threats, Draco went for Hannah's feminine jugular.

"You know Abbot," said Draco using his lazy drawl. "I remember when I used to think you were cute, like a kitten; pretty even. But now I see you are no more than a vicious, sadistic ugly dog of a girl. Hagrid's slobbery boarhound Fang is more feminine than you."

I'd bet a sack of Galleons Fang Frenchs better too.

Hermione's balled up wool gloves bounced off Draco's head. "Draco, STOP it! Apologize to Hannah!"

"Hermione," fussed Draco now more annoyed at Hermione than at Hannah said, "not in front of the..." with his head, he indicated the massed group of Gryffindors, especially the ones gripping him tightly by the arms.

Someone handed Hannah her broomstick, which the girl examined carefully. She turned abruptly to face Draco one last time. "Malfoy, if there is any damage to myself or this Starshotz, I will see it goes into the report on this incident."

"Fuck you Abbot," said Draco sharply, rudely. He smiled pleasantly at the smaller blonde. "And, hey, enjoy the rest of your day you sawed off little harpy."

Abbot angrily mounted her Starshotz and shot off into the air just as Captain Brockland and the Hufflepuff team made it over to the Gryffindor stands.

"Let Malfoy go," commanded Jones quickly to the boys holding Draco at bay. "It's all over now."

Draco pulled himself angrily from the grasps of the Gryffindor boys. Hermione leapt to Draco's side, taking his arm. With great concern, Hermione looked Draco up and down, as though fearing things were torn off of him as well as the snitch.

Captain Brockland and his team hovered maliciously in the air in front of the group; all of them looked as though they were only waiting for the command to murder Draco. Brockland said, "I'm reporting this incident 'ex-captain' Malfoy, and..."

Jones interrupted Captain Brockland, calling loudly, "And what incident would that be Brockland?" Jones looked around apparently checking for a dead body or at the very least, a large pool of blood that would warrant an 'incident' report. "The others and I were watching when poor Malfoy here accidentally toppled off the bench up there. Apparently Malfoy was terribly upset by your vandal Abbot who destroyed school property, tearing a feckin' wing off the snitch. Poor Malfoy just fell right off the bench and I can tell you, a few of us down here nearly fell off our benches too. Least ways, that's what me and the lads here saw. Isn't that right mates?"

"Aye!" the Gryffindor students called together.

Draco held up his arm towards Captain Brockland and opened his hand to reveal the crippled snitch, the small object still feebly flapping its remaining wing. Draco held the snitch as though handling a small abused bird. Any player of Quidditch could understand Draco's feelings over the snitch. A snitch was not a sentient being - but it was the symbol of all that Quidditch was. The golden orb deserved respectful treatment - mostly.

"Wait Captain Brockland," shouted Draco, "Before you go, don't forget this." Draco quickly pulled back his arm and pitched the broken snitch hitting Captain Brockland in the forehead with a loud clunk. For good measure Draco spat at Brockland. As Draco expected, Hermione gasped in horror.

"Draco," Hermione pleaded softly, wishing she'd waited a few days before giving up corporal smacking. "Draco, please come with me."

"Ok, sweetie," Draco said to Hermione. He turned his back on Captain Brockland and smile innocently at Hermione as though she'd only interrupted a friendly game of wizard's chess.

Hermione lead Draco away from the mob of Gryffindors and the angry host of Hufflepuff team members hovering in the air. "Are you hurt Draco? You might have been hurt jumping at Hannah like that!" Hermione and Draco walked down the stadium steps.

"Your Gryffindor's kicked me in the goolies," whinged Draco quietly. "Still hurts. And my arm... it might be broken,"

"Oh... poor Dray-cocoa. You mean the arm you used to fling the snitch at Captain Brockland?"

"Yes," Draco whimpered mournfully in typical shameless move for sympathy. "No... uh, the other arm. The broken arm."

"That's terrible," said Hermione sympathetically. "What a shame. After I visit Harry in the infirmary I wanted to spend the afternoon with you at our greenhouse hideaway, but if your arms is injured..."

"Look at that!" said Draco, happily shaking his 'broken' arm. "All better now. Funny things arms are, aren't they?"

Before they left the stadium Draco used the summoning charm, 'Accio liber libri' to gather the texts he dumped under the stadium. He bundled the rumpled and bedraggled texts into Hermione's overtaxed school bag. Shouldering Hermione's bag himself, Draco and Hermione retreated arm in arm for the infirmary to visit Harry. Draco wondered what penance he'd have to ultimately pay for the damaged books.

"Draco."

"What? Merlin's manky... what Petals? Was my fly open while I was shrieking at that little fiend or something?"

Hermione hugged closer to Draco. "No the jewels were in the safe, no worries. That was something up there. I ought not to approve at all but for some inexplicable reason, I'm proud of you."

"Proud of... of... a slave?" whinged Draco in one more unabashed try for some sympathy snogging. He batted his blonde eyelashes at Hermione.

I even bat my eyelashes more effectively that Amazon Abbot does.

"You are no one's slave Draco," said Hermione. "And the bloody feckin' Dark Lord will know that some day."

Draco smiled. "I'm having such a good influence on you Petals. You can curse like a Goblin with a stubbed toe now, can't you? I suppose you still want to go check on your Potter now?"

"Oh, you didn't call Harry 'Scarhead', 'Hairy Poopy', 'Harried Potty', or any of your other nasty and vicious little nicknames. I suppose I'm having an even better influence on you."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I doubt that. Either way, let's keep my so-called improvements between us, ok? I have my reputation as a disreputable arse-hole to maintain."

~*~*~*~*~*~

While Hermione visited with Harry and the other injured Gryffindor players, Draco sat outside the infirmary on a corridor bench. He knew he couldn't remain civil visiting 'that lot' and didn't want to upset Hermione prior to his highly anticipated snog session. Draco watched as a parade of Gryffindor after Gryffindor and students from every house except Slytherin, passed through the infirmary doors. The visitors came bearing gifts of cards, presents, loads of sweets and well wishes for the injured Gryffindor players. Draco wondered what the attraction was that everyone had for the insufferable Gryffindor lot. On the rare occasion Draco found himself in the infirmary he was lucky if Crabb and Goyle turned out for a visit with him. He noticed there a fair number of Hufflepuff also passed through the infirmary doors to visit their wounded players too.

After a while, to Draco's amazement he had visitors of his own. Fred and George and several other Gryffindors left the infirmary to congratulation Draco. They'd heard from Mathew Jones about Draco's show down with Abbot and they heartily approved that Draco had taken on the Hufflepuff seeker, female or not. The Weasley twins even gifted their traditional enemy Draco with sweets gleaned from Harry's growing stash of treats. Draco didn't let on that he was infinitely pleased by the all the attention. He hardly knew how to respond to such and sat rather uncharacteristically mute while the small group patted his back, laughed and said unkind things about the Hufflepuff team. Draco was relieved when the Gryffindor group moved on and left him alone on the bench. He wondered to what degree Hermione influenced the situation. Draco sorted through his new stash of sweets and picked out a gooseberry flavored sugar quill to suck on.

Might as well get in some practice for this afternoon.

However by the time Hermione rounded up her visit Harry and the others in the infirmary, Draco was taciturn, and annoyed. He'd had the time to sit and mull over his earlier argument with Hermione about her insistence there was a way to 'cure him' of the Dark Lord's spell. As he thought on the matter, he grew sullen. By the time Hermione left the infirmary, Draco was in a bad mood and as tightly wired as a banjo after all the sweets he'd eaten. Hermione knew how to cheer him up.

"Have you time to visit the hideaway?" she whispered Hermione in Draco's ear. "I mean if you're done throwing good library books off of high places?"

Draco mumbled indistinctly and allowed Hermione to put an arm around him and lead him off. It was a pleasant walk over to the Greenhouse area, where the two snuck into 'their' greenhouse and crawled under the long bench that served as their plush little hideaway.

Things immediately took a strange turn. Draco remained annoyed at Hermione's insistence on having things her own way about 'his problem'. Also Draco was freshly miffed about Hermione's insubordination in front of the Gryffindors in the stadium. He insisted on corporal punishment for the disobedient Miss Granger.

"I'm going to do what I've always threatened to do Petals," said Draco with a frown that was damned difficult for him to keep from blooming into a huge happy grin.

"What Dray-cocoa?" cooed Hermione playing her own game.

"I'm going to put you over my knee and give you a thorough smacking!"

Hermione looked at Draco in amazement. "You are joking, aren't you dear?"

"No, damn it! Get over here. Soon as I finish this cauldron cake and bottle of Loganberry fizz, you are going to get the smacking of your life young lady."

"Fine," said Hermione. "I'll allow it, but if I bruise it may take me weeks and weeks to recover and I can't snog while I'm healing. Just so you know."

Draco, a man of his word, considered Hermione's comments but decided to take his chances. After threatening to put the girl over his knee practically every single day of their relationship, he put words to action. Hermione received a thorough bare bum paddling that made her cry, no surprises there.

However, it must be noted that Hermione's tears were tears of mirth, and not of sorrow or regret. To Hermione's surprise, she rather enjoyed being pulled over Draco's knee. At last she had a fetish of her very own, just as Draco had developed something of a fetish for Hermione's orange blossom scented hair - one more thing for the happy pair to share. Hermione requested a second round and firm handed paddling, and with no reluctance whatever, Draco kindly obliged. Draco reckoned if punishment of his Petals was ever again required, he would simply refuse to put the stubborn witch over his knee. That would teach her a thing or two and keep her in her place.

'Spanking the wayward, insubordinate Gryffindor muggleborn witch' made Draco's 'new turn-on' list as number 279, right after number 278.

New turn-on number 278 was tumbling down stadium stairs with a rival team's diminutive blonde seeker while holding the witch by the more interesting bits of her anatomy. Draco had lied to Hannah. He still thought she was cute and 'passing pretty'.

By the end of the second round of 'Her-on-my-knee' Granger's punishment, the original offenses were forgotten. Draco and Hermione spent most of the remaining afternoon in a riotously entertaining snog session.

At a convenient snog stopping point, Hermione decided the time had come to reopen the subject that was guaranteed to infuriate Draco. Draco was currently amusing himself making funny bubbling noises in Hermione's navel a convenient venue on his tactile exploration of Hermione from her head to her toes.

"Draco," said Hermione.

Draco interrupted her, "Petals, here, I'm going to start back at the top before I get us both killed," he crawled up Hermione and began all over again, burrowing into her bushy chestnut hair, licking at the nap of her neck.

"Draco, be a dear," Hermione pulled Draco's hair a tug or two. "I want to talk."

"Petals," whinged Draco in an 'I-never-get-to-have-any-fun' voice, "What? You said we were going to snog, not talk." He switched over to kissing her pink ear.

"No, I want to discuss 'things', said Hermione inflexibly.

"Right," the whinging continued. "Petals, what's the cleaning charm for boy sort of slimy messes on a Persian carpet?"

"Really, Draco, please. Young Hogwarts wizards learn the 'boy sort of slimy mess cleaning charm' year one, month two. Knowing you, you probably learned it two hours after the sorting hat rightfully placed you into Slytherin - the wisest move the hat ever made. Now stop stalling and let's talk."

Draco released Hermione's ear from his teeth. "Damn it! I don't want to talk. Are you asking to be put over my knee young witch?"

After a few moments of serious consideration, Hermione continued. "Draco. Enough stalling. There are important things we must discuss. There is a way out of your predicament. There has to be, and I need help with the research," Hermione said emphatically. "I don't accept that your fate is sealed. That is not acceptable."

"There isn't a way out." Draco equally emphatic. He couldn't believe that Hermione brought up the expressly 'forbidden' subject again. "That does it! You are getting another spanking, right now!"

"Dray, you are grinning like a Cheshire cat. Now listen. I need help with my investigations. Without help I have no chance of..."

"This is my last warning witch. I am the wizard here and I tell you, leave 'it' alone." Draco emphasized the words in a way that he futilely hoped would cause Hermione to understand him better. It puzzled Draco that the time tested statement 'I am the wizard' seemed to hold little or no weight with Hermione. The willful witch insisted on thinking of herself as his equal. Draco considered himself quite liberal. After all, he thought Hermione was a wonderful girl in spite of being a muggleborn inferior. True, Hermione was shrewish at times, but she was a 'hot' shrew and that carried a great deal of weight with Draco. In any case the girl's impertinence in the face of 'her master's wishes' was damned annoying.

Draco'd heard his father use the very statement 'I am the wizard' on his mother to great effect - mostly. Draco wished he could have fallen for a more obedient sort of witch. He pondered; since he'd never met an obedient witch did such creatures as 'obedient witches' exist in the first place? Slowly Draco became aware that Hermione was still speaking. Draco was getting quite good at mentally blocking out her rabbiting.

"Draco, with the assistance of Harry and Ron, I can cover the advanced magic section at the library much faster. I think the charms references are our best bet. I'm only surprised that I never came across a write up on a situation similar to yours over the years. I think..."

"Do you need Madame Pomfrey to check your hearing Petals?" Draco made little quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "You will not research the spells that bind me. I do not permit you to research the matter." Draco was rapidly developing a splitting headache.

Hermione never stopped speaking. "Ron is excellent with charms and their analysis. He is modest about it but you know Ron took full marks in Flitwick's class two years running. Once he got his new wand that is. I'll have Ron check for charms that date back before the magical world's slave revolts in the..."

"Petals, damn you witch," Draco shook his head to clear it. He said with a furious voice, "I am ordering you, LISTEN to me!"

Hermione sucked in her breath. She had pushed Draco a little too far. If he called her mudblood next she would have to make run for it.

Draco grabbed Hermione's shoulder and shook it angrily. "Do you forget that I'm born and bred Slytherin? Don't you think I know what you're doing? In the first place, you only brought up that, that, ginger-headed destitute Weasel so you can use him as a blasted bargaining chip. Then as we argue, you'll drop him out of the bargaining so I will relent and let you have Potter..."

"Oh thank you Draco!" Hermione exploded with joy and poured it on. "You won't be sorry! With Harry by my side you'll be free of that ghastly and cruel spell. I promise you that Cocoa!"

True, Draco might have been 'born and bred' Slytherin, but Hermione was nothing if not a lighting fast learner.

"No, I meant..." Draco jerked back, momentarily stunned. True, the words 'I will relent and let you have Potter' had in fact left his lips, but that was not the intent of the sentence at all. It was damned confusing for Petals to twist things so.

Then it got more confusing. As Draco opened his mouth to reveal the true intent of his words, Hermione lunged at him, placing her tender and nimble tongue into the boy's mouth. She had other interesting aspects of her charms, two bare ones to be precise, pressed up against Draco's bare chest.

"Mmmumphffff!" Although Draco's heart was not in it, the boy attempted protest on general principle. But Draco's entire quarrel was hopelessly lost in the insistent presence of Hermione's soft mouth. And when Hermione's even softer hands unfairly insinuated themselves to lovingly and sensitively caress Draco's own boyish nipples he was thoroughly disarmed.

Hermione came up for air, and continued talking. "You'll see Draco. Harry is intuitive. He comes up with ideas even when he doesn't know how he does it, he has a knack, the skill to..."

"Hermione Granger you... you.... listen to me now." Draco made one last desperate attempt to explain himself. "I meant..."

Alas. Unfortunately for Draco, Hermione's arsenal was far from empty.

"I know dear. I know," The determined girl pulled Draco into the most passionate kiss the two had ever shared. Not the most passionate kiss they had shared since before Draco revealed his secrets, but the most passionate kiss the two had ever shared with each other or with anyone else for that matter. Make no mistake, the kiss was like a healing draught for Draco's heart. If ever there was a kiss capable of expressing mutual love between young and mostly innocent hearts this was that kiss. Draco sucked in the essence of Hermione and felt his heart picking up strength, picking up courage and picking up the party in his trousers. Yes, perhaps that sounds cheap. Perhaps some may even think that the quality of the kiss was thereby cheapened, but there is no denying the connection, and there you are. We all have to deal with the truth as we can.

When Hermione finally pulled back, releasing the lips, tongue and heart of her young Slytherin lover, a pact between the two was sealed. Draco knew that he was going to trust Hermione with his life. The girl would deliver the best she had, and she would lay down her life to save him if necessary. And Draco suddenly knew, as much as it galled him, that not only would Hermione give all she had for his sake, but so also would her irritating show-off friend - Potter. It was all too humiliating, but again, there you go.

"Are we still going to Hogsmead tomorrow?" purred Hermione soothingly as she began to don the remainder of her stray clothing, leaving her 'brazier' and blouse for last. "I can't wait to find out what your surprise for me is."

Draco reeled from the kiss. Many of the boy's parts, his heart and others, were thumping like a puppy's tail on linoleum. Language slowly began to return to him.

"Sure. Yes. Hogsmead. No wait... stop confusing the issue. I was telling you... um...?" He knew there was something, but he no longer recalled what.

"So, 'till then my sweet, sweet cup of hot white cocoa, all stirred up." Hermione pushed books into her school bag and headed for the hideaway entrance. "Ta, ta!"

Hermione's 'ta, ta!" sounded like 'I'll love you forever Draco.'

The Ghost Flower shrub jiggled where Hermione left through the entranceway. There was no stopping the girl. Hermione was going to bring Potter in on 'the problem'. Draco sat dumbfounded, staring at the pollen floating down from the shrub onto the plush carpet.

As a teen boy Draco interpreted that the worst of having Potter assist him with 'his delicate condition' was not that Draco's life was in grave danger if his father found out. By Draco's reckoning the worst of it was that Potter would know the most embarrassing truth of Draco's very existence as Draco saw it - he was a virgin. As far as Draco was concerned, Harry's eventual knowledge of Draco's virginal status was only one thin notch below being boiled alive. The thought that Harry might also be a virgin never crossed Draco's mind. As far as Draco was concerned, how could the 'Boy Who Lived' not be the 'Boy Who Got Some'?

Draco rolled onto his back and turned his head to peer through the glass greenhouse wall through which he could see a small sparrow hopping under the shrubbery. He pulled out his wand, "Petrosus avia!" and with a flick of his wand the sparrow was transformed into a small white rock. Perhaps twenty-five such small white rocks were scattered about the patch of green outside the greenhouse glass; little victims of Draco's frustrations.

My life so sucks.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Do you like it? Really like it?" Draco asked Hermione.

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and the two sat in The Three Broomsticks in wizarding village of Hogsmead. The pub was packed with Hogwarts students, all taking breaks from Christmas shopping, for a hot drink and a warm lunch.

"I love it Draco! But, your gift is so sweet, but so expensive. Makes me feel like a, a..."

"A kept witch?" offered Draco eagerly.

"You are so lucky that I've sworn off slapping you," laughed Hermione. She held out and admired the ruby friendship ring that Draco proudly insisted on purchasing for her. The ring was golden with clever Celtic knots along the band, a large ruby and a small green emerald.

"The emerald is my Slytherin heart Petals," Draco said managing to look embarrassed.

Hermione chortled, "Oooo! That explains why the emerald is so small!"

Earlier in the day during their shopping, Draco insisted that Hermione allow him to purchase for her a garish ring that sported a radish-sized emerald. The emerald ring was beyond practical, so large that Hermione could hardly hold up her hand while wearing the monstrosity. It was only for a lark that Draco pestered Hermione with the huge emerald ring. He never intended anything for her but the ring he designed for her and secretly ordered sometime in early November. When the ring arrived at the jewelers in Hogsmead, Draco was delighted. He invited Hermione to spend a day with him in Hogsmead where he spent happy hour after happy hour torturing Hermione with his false efforts to purchase for her, hideous ring after hideous ring. Poor Hermione was put to the test to refuse the ugly rings, while trying desperately not to insult Draco's taste - or rather, lack thereof. Eventually Draco led Hermione to 'discover for herself' the ring that he had designed - a modest but stylish little gold ring featured a rampant Gryffindor Lion. Close examination of the ring showed the silver Celtic knot on the ring was actually a silver snake whose tiny emerald 'eye' showed beautifully against the Gryffindor gold background. The snake was charmed to engage in untoward activities towards the lion. Draco wondered how long until his Petals noticed the 'special' feature of the ring.

Hermione and Draco sat so close together at their pub table that they were nearly in each other's laps. Hermione leaned her face against Draco and cooed, "Oh Dray-cocoa, I think in some parts of the world giving me a gift this splendid would mean that you own me."

"No," Draco smirked proudly. "To own you I'd have to throw in a cow, three pigs, a goat and a half dozen sheep. And I think if I had sheep, I wouldn't need you to begin with."

"Stop it," giggled Hermione.

The two laughed and settled in to eat from a large plate of fish and chips. They could have afforded two plates but they were cozy after purchasing the ring and they found it more fun to lean over the plate together and share the meal. As they nibbled at their chips, the two stared into each other's eyes, forehead to forehead. Lovely and deliciously nasty boy and girl ideas tumbled happily through both of their heads. Draco was only just tracing his naughty hand up under Hermione's skirt under cover of the checkered tablecloth when Hermione abruptly leapt up out of her seat.

"Over here!" called Hermione to a figure across the room. She then turned smiling to Draco. "We're in luck Cocoa! There's Harry speaking to Madame Rosmerta." Hermione sounded delighted.

Draco's eyes darkened and he slumped in his chair.

"Hello Hermione!" came Harry's cheery voice called over the bustle of the pub. He waved merrily from the front counter.

Hermione waved back. "Harry! Harry, when you're finished could you...? Oh good."

Draco was so annoyed that the hated Potter was going to ruin a perfect day out with Hermione that he immediately looked for a way to alleviate some of his annoyance. As Hermione waved at Harry, Draco chucked a wooden saltcellar at Neville who was seated two tables away by the doorway entrance. Draco quickly turned away as the saltcellar stuck its target, square on the back of Neville's head.

Hermione sat back down, wiggling with delight. "I'm so pleased Harry's here. I'd hoped we'd run across him. Isn't this wonderful Draco?"

Immediately Draco felt something was not quite right. Hermione was wriggling in that delightfully wicked way that filled Draco's daydreams and made his trousers fit too tightly. But Draco felt plagued by mixed feelings because the source of Hermione's winsome wriggling was the hated Potter had shown up uninvited. Draco decided he hated Potter even more than he had ever realized.

"Draco, since Harry's here now, we can discuss 'our situation' and ask him to assist me. Harry will be such a help for us."

"But I don't want to discuss 'our situation' as you imaginatively put it, and I hardly want Potter to..." Draco's comment was broken off as Harry made his way through a group of students and stood at their table, beaming.

"Hello Hermione," said Harry pleasantly. For the express purpose of annoying Draco, Harry did something he rarely did; he kissed Hermione's cheek in greeting. Harry's day was made as he watched Draco grit his teeth and saw the Slytherin's complexion go a delightful shade of pink. Harry only regretted that he didn't take a chance on kissing Hermione on the lips; Draco's head would have exploded.

"Harry," said Hermione with concern. "Your leg is properly healed already? I trust Madame Pomfrey made a good job of it? Are you feeling well?"

"Pomfrey tried out a new broken bone formula on me. Didn't even hurt," Harry grinned. "The other's are out too, healthy as hippogriffs. So are you holiday shopping? Purchase anything wonderful for me?"

"Not really," Hermione looked excited. "Here, see what Draco gave me!" She proudly held out her right hand to Harry's face and wiggled her ring finger.

"Oh, are you a kept witch now?" laughed Harry.

Hermione looked at Draco briefly. "Draco! Did you tell Harry to say that?"

"No," Draco said flatly. He looked sullen and he stared at Hermione as if the girl had lost her mind.

Harry was having fun. He gave Hermione a mock stern look and took her hand for a closer look at the ring. "Hermione, you and Malfoy here, are not engaged?" Harry peered through his glasses at Hermione's hand and pulled the ring closer still to his face. "Yes," Harry said as though having just solved a great mystery. "Well then, that would be Malfoy's idea of a 'little joke' I suppose."

Draco bolted, sitting straight up in his chair. "Little?" He sputtered thinking that Harry implied the ring was of poor quality.

Hermione playfully pursed her lips in a pout at Harry. "What? Don't you think the ring romantic and thoughtful?"

"Thoughtful?" Harry said dubiously. "Hermione, you don't mind that the little Slytherin snake on your ring bites the Gryffindor Lion on the arse?"

"What?" Hermione leaned her head over to peer closer at the ring.

"There!" said Harry triumphantly. "See? The snake just did it again! Bit the Gryffindor lion right on its bum. I suppose you could say that is romantic in a nasty sort of way."

For the first time since arriving at the table Harry looked at Draco and smiled. "But then the snake is so tiny, I suppose the impotent wee creature can't really hurt the mighty Gryffindor Lion anyway."

Draco looked daggers at Harry.

Hermione looked carefully at her ring and saw what silver snake lunge forward along the ring band, biting the lion on its 24-carat bum. Holding the ring to her ear, Hermione could even hear the tiny golden lion roaring indignantly as it was repeatedly bitten. "Draco...? Did you know the snake bites the lion's... bum?"

Draco toyed with a chip on the plate. "Not a bite really... sort of a snaky kiss is all." Draco gave Harry an 'I so totally hate your guts' stare.

Hermione burst out laughing. "Harry, the serpent is Draco's idea of a little humour."

"Very little," said Harry. "Crikey! So this is an engagement ring Hermione?" Harry was joking, his mood still playful. "Hum, let's see, your bridal shower colours can be albino-bunny-white, poisonous-pissant-pink, and let's not forget, slimy-Slytherin-silver."

"Harry," Hermione reached over to pat Draco's hand while the furious Slytherin continued glowered angrily at Harry. "Harry, don't be mean to Draco. He can be an evil Slytherin, I admit, but he's my evil Slytherin, aren't you Dray-cocoa?"

Draco grunted then looked up at Harry almost pleasantly, but with his characteristic slow drawl. "Speaking of upcoming weddings, where is your little fiancé Potter? The one that is so much taller than you?"

"What?" asked Harry.

"You know, your constant companion that has more copper growing out of his scalp than lining his pockets? You and your penniless pathetic paramour are so cute together."

"Ron is NOT pathetic," said Harry, growing even more annoyed as he realized he'd stepped into a verbal trap.

"But Weasley is your boy-toy isn't he?" asked Draco in a high-pitched voice and making squeaky kissy noises.

"You take that back you...!" Harry lunged, but Hermione quickly stood and shoved heavily against Harry to hold him off. She faced her 'evil one' who sat smirking.

"Harry, please don't." Hermione pushed back against Harry again. Draco fumed resentfully because suddenly Harry was pressed up against Hermione's back. That was Draco's job!

"Harry, please, Draco is sorry and he will apologize to you in a moment. Won't you dear?"

Draco shook his head vehemently and looked innocently at Hermione and said stubbornly. "No dear. Not a chance."

"Fine." Hermione said plainly to Draco. "So Draco, that's it for you ever again in your lifetime experiencing the 'Her-on-my-knee Granger' smack-tacular. Humm?"

Draco's eyes widened with horror. He sat up and looked Harry dead in the eye. "Potter, I am so sorry if I offended your or your dear friend, the very worthy Ron Weasley, who, like you is solidly heterosexual, unless your inclinations are in fact otherwise in which case I apologize for insulting your lifestyle choice. Did I mention that Weasley is a fine young man of an excellent family. The young Mister Weasley is a credit to..."

"That will do very nicely Draco, thank you," said Hermione.

Damn me, I'm slipping. Didn't see that one coming.

Harry was startled; Draco apologizing for something, for anything? Her-on-mi-ne Granger? He would have to share that delightful nickname with Ron. Harry said to Hermione, "Ron didn't want to come to Hogsmead with me. Said he wants to study for his O.W.L.s."

"Oh studying is he?" said Hermione. Harry and Hermione stared at each other for a few seconds and then both burst into gales of laughter. They knew that Ron never studied on Saturdays without a threatening wand held to his head. Whatever Ron was up to on this beautiful day, it was not studying.

Draco felt left out watching the closeness between Harry and Hermione. Draco intensified his resentful glaring at Harry.

It's my job to make Petals laugh until the butterbeer flows out those lovely nostrils, not your's Scarhead.

"Harry, I wonder if you have time to sit for a bit? We have something to ask you."

Flicking his green eyes to Draco briefly, Harry looked at Hermione curiously.

"I suppose," said Harry. "I have time."

"And for the record, Draco and I are not engaged," Hermione put her hand over her mouth and giggled at the thought.

Draco shot Hermione a look that said, 'and that would be a fate worse than death because?"

"Well, at least not engaged yet," said Hermione. She reached over to stroke Draco on the back of his neck. As always Hermione's touch placated and calmed Draco.

"Be right back," Harry went to the front counter and bought himself some fish and chips, and a mug of butterbeer. Upon his return Harry politely offered his plate to Draco and Hermione whose own fish and chips were finished.

Whispering, Hermione said in Draco's ear, "Cocoa please be friendly. Do eat a chip, for me?"

Grudgingly, Draco took large fistful of chips from Harry's plate. Draco stuffed the chips into his mouth. He smiled, stuffing the odd chip end into his mouth. "Fwank few Fwotter," Draco said politely, his cheeks puffed with chips like a Slytherin hamster.

Harry looked at the three remaining chips on his plate and frowned. He pulled his plate out of reach of Draco and poured vinegar on his fish.

"I'll come right to the point," said Hermione after fiercely pinching Draco under the table until he squealed. She leaned forward and whispered to Harry.

"Draco is in a great deal of trouble that he didn't bring on himself. He didn't want me to tell you about this Harry, but there are... things set in place, that affect you nearly as much as Draco."

With that introduction, Hermione quietly whispered into Harry's ear all about Voldemort's ownership of Draco. Hermione told Harry that Draco was a source for magic powers given to Draco on his day of birth that increased over time. She explained how Draco had no access to the powers for himself and that Lord Voldemort would be able harvest and use the store of powers at whatever time the Dark Lord saw fit to 'redeem' the powers from Draco - his slave from birth.

The patrons of the Three Broomsticks were so boisterous and loud that even Draco, by her side could not hear anything that Hermione whispered to Harry.

"And Harry," Hermione said in a trembling voice. "Draco's birthday is... Halloween. As Hermione whispered to Harry, she wondered that Harry did not look at all surprised or horrified or even concerned. It was as if he didn't hear or understand her at all.

"Hermione," Harry looked at Draco angrily. "That is the biggest load of rubbish that I've ever heard and why you fell this prawn's outrageous story is beyond me. It's beyond reason that you listen to him and I don't care that he is your boyfriend. He is manipulating you."

"Harry," Hermione was stunned.

Draco said quietly. "Remember, Hermione. It is your brilliant idea to include Potty in on this."

Harry glared at Draco. "First of all Malfoy, I happen to know that your birthday is January 31^st so right off, your story is a lie and..."

"Potter," Draco drawled. "January 31^st was the day I was conceived and this otherwise boring planet was graced with the promise of my eventual presence."

"Eeewwwww!" Harry wore a look of complete disgust. "Don't say 'conceived'. Gives me a disgusting visual image."

"Oh, and you think that thought is any better for me? We're talking my parents here. Double Eeeeewwww!" said Draco in disgust.

Harry suggested, "Can we uh... I don't know, maybe hum instead of saying that word?"

"Both of you, grow up!" snapped Hermione. "As I said, Draco was born on Halloween. He celebrates his birthday on the day he was most likely conceived, January 31."

Both Harry and Draco made disgusted faces and whinged in unison, "Eeeeewwww!" At last, the two boys had something they whole-heartedly agreed upon.

"That's silly," Harry said. "No, it's stupid. What was the point in lying about Malfoy's birthday?"

Hermione looked around nervously and whispered, "Halloween an auspicious date for the birth of a wizard or a witch Harry. Remember the rule of three from Professor Binn's History of Magic class? On three days a year, Halloween, and the two annual solstices, dark magic peaks. Draco's birth was kept secret so as not to tip off any spies to the Dark Lord's plans."

"Hermione, that is still rubbish." Harry quickly balled up his used serviette and flung it angrily at Draco. "Why do you listen to this liar? What sort of parents would put such a foul spell on their newborn? It's too barbaric. Imagine the Malfoys giving up their own infant up for a slave."

As fate would have it, as the words 'what sort of parents would put such a foul spell on their own newborn' left Harry's lips, his eyes were trained on Draco's face. Harry was rendered speechless as he saw a deeply pained look momentarily flit across Draco's face. Harry recognized the look - the same expression that Harry himself saw when looking in mirrors before he was told he was a wizard. It was a look of sorrow, shame and humiliation; something that Draco was apparently adept at hiding as Harry had been.

Hermione's heart thumped painfully as she too saw the look flutter across Draco's face. "I'm so sorry Draco." Quietly, she squeezed Draco's hand under the table. "Draco dear... You've heard all this before and I know how it annoys you. Would you do me a favor? Could you run two doors down and buy the little silver cloak clasp that I pointed out to you in the window earlier? Here," she dug in her pockets for coins.

"Dragon's blood, Hermione!" Draco exclaimed angrily. "If you want to be alone with 'the Boy Who Belched' for a bit, just ask me. I'm not five years old and even when I was five, I wasn't a pillock."

"I'm sorry," Hermione kissed Draco's cheek in apology, and he immediately looked less stressed. "Oh, and could you please," Hermione snuggled her lips against Draco's ear and whispered.

Draco sighed heavily. "Aw Petals, please, have a heart..."

Hermione begged prettily, brushing her moist lips over Draco's ear and cooing into it, "Please Cocoa?"

Draco shrugged the shoulder nearest his coddled ear and smiled. "Oh, all right. You're going to be the death of me Petals." Draco suddenly didn't care that Potter heard him use his sentimental nickname for Hermione.

For his part, Harry thought he'd never ever seen Malfoy look so...so... was there a word for 'not totally obnoxious, hateful, or worthy of being drowned in a bucket? Malfoy almost looked coy and sweet when being snuggled by Hermione. Harry felt nauseous and wished it was possible to have his brain washed out with soap for thinking such disgusting thoughts.

"Right then," drawled Draco embarrassed to have revealed a softer side to the hated Potter. "And I don't need your money Petals." For the sake of impressing Harry, Draco made a great show of bestowing a good-bye kiss to Hermione that gave the impression that their separation would span at least twenty years, rather than twenty minutes. The kiss goodbye was heated enough to cause several nearby groups of students to break into spontaneous applause.

"Laters," said Draco and smirking he headed for the Three Broomstick's door. As Draco grasped the door handle, something hit him on the back of the head with a loud 'thunk'.

"OOWWWCCCH!" Draco frantically rubbed the back of his head, turned and looked down. A wooden saltcellar was rolling on the floor at his feet. Draco looked up. Neville, his back to Draco sat innocently chatting with his girlfriend. Fiona stared right at Draco and the shoulders of she and Neville shook merrily with laughter.

Thongbottom's girl has certainly turned him around for the better. Pathetic how some lads allow themselves to be so heavily influenced by their girl. Pathetic really.

Draco headed off to the Gladrags Wizardwear to buy Hermione's cloak clasp and then as his Petals persuaded him, he went on to the Chemist Shop to purchase his girl a box of tampons.

~*~*~*~*~*~

With Draco gone, Hermione nervously glancing around and continued telling Harry of Draco's woes.

"As I said Harry, I've researched the spell, or charm or whatever they placed on Draco. I've searched for several days, but I've only found one library book that makes mention of the sort of spell that Draco was subjected to as a newborn." She lugged a heavy text out of her school bag. "I'm going to have to access the Restricted Section of the library, and I need your help there." Hermione opened the text to a marked page and patted it.

"Here Harry. This will... open your eyes."

The textbook was entitled, A Wizard's Compendium of Olde Black Magic. Harry still looked dubious but with finally with obvious reluctance, he began to read where Hermione marked the margin with magical marker slip, an exclamation point that flashed on and off like a neon light.

__________________

Extinct Forms of Magic: continued - Prior to the thirteenth century, olde black magic held dark wizards in its spell through a now extinct form of necromancy - investment spells. Investment, or 'storage spells' used newborn slave children as living laboratory petri dishes to convert small quantities of low-grade light magic (magic-lite) into high quality, potent deep dark powerful magic (D2PM). The resulting D2PM was recalled in time when the newborn achieved mid to late adolescence. If D2PM was unrecovered by age 20 the D2PM degraded rapidly releasing toxic magical byproducts, which killed the youth. It is essential to note the D2PM was never available to the slave child who only served as a storage medium. Through obtainment of D2PM dark wizards could amplify their personal power stores making weak wizards strong and strong wizards virtually unstoppable. Many centuries of warfare were the end result of dark wizards increasing or attempting to increase their power through slave children subjected to investment spells.

Essential starter elements for storage spells required a newborn, for they had uncontaminated magical essences. Slaves were used because the subject children seldom if ever survived their adolescence. Considerations prior to performing investment spells was obtainment of the newborn's parents consent to use their child [see appendix vii]. Slaves were easily persuaded to 'voluntarily' donate their child to a dark wizard's purposes. In ancient times slave children were only shekels for the dozen but it was believed pureblood wizards provided the highest quality D2PM. Pureblood newborn wizards were most commonly obtained through warfare or were given to dark wizards voluntarily by promise of great reward and/or power to the pureblood parents.

Potent Deep Dark Powerful Magic was retrieved from the slave child through a releasing spell, conducted during the Pactum Crumens, believed by many scholars to be the most brutal form of dark magic. Stressing slave child greatly augmented the quantity and the quality of D2PM released during the Pactum Crumens. The nature of 'stress' the slave child was subjected to ran in scale from weak D2PM releases by loss of the slave's virginity, through massive release of D2PM by subjecting the vessel child to blood letting, throat slitting, and far worse [see appendix viii].

Review Questions:

1. Why was the abolition of slavery of magical folks the death knell of investment spells? How might investment spells take place in the modern wizarding world if wizards had no morals or conscience whatever?

2. Review Chapter 8 then explain why a dark wizard could only benefit from D2PM once during a dark wizard's lifetime. How did this affect the general temperament of dark wizards if their retrieval of D2PM was botched?

__________________

There were eight additional review questions but Harry could not bring himself to read much past the bit about the temperament of wizards foiled in their attempts to obtain the mysterious D2PM.

"W-w-what?" Harry stammered. "Hermione, does Malfoy know about this? I mean, you're telling me that the Malfoys, actually permitted a spell meant for slave children to be placed on their only son, their infant son?"

"Harry, I told you. Draco was born to be the slave of the Dark Lord, the sole reason the Malfoys had a child in the first place." Hermione stared down at the table, feeling dizzy with the horror of her own words. She wanted to believe Draco's parents somehow did not fully know what they were doing when they gave the newborn Draco over to the Dark Lord.

"Harry, perhaps Draco's parents weren't told all that was involved. Maybe the Malfoys figured the rewards of allowing Draco to possibly be savaged, or murdered was worth their sacrificing their child. Perhaps that is why they spoiled him so, to alleviate their guilt. Maybe there are other ways to get the maximum power from the Investment spell without... stressing the victim. If I could only find more information. Where is the information Harry? There is nothing but this one text in the library that even mentions such cruel dark magic ever even existing."

The two sat silent for a good long while. Hermione found to her amazement that under gross duress, she didn't want to cry at all. It was as if tears were ineffective against this sort of wickedness.

Harry couldn't eat what little was left of his fish and chips. He was on the verge of being physically ill. He stilled his nerves by allowing himself the cruel thought that after all, this was only Malfoy's fate they were talking about. But Harry knew better, and as he watched Hermione's face, he concluded that it didn't matter whose fate the spell sealed. The barbaric spell had to be broken at any cost. Not only because to allow the investment spell to be 'redeemed' would save Draco and prevent the further empowerment of the Dark Lord, but because the dark magic of the investment spell was wrong, period.

"Hermione," Harry persisted, "Again, how much do you think Malfoy knows?"

"I suspect now you know more than he does. I believe he was also subjected to a potion to keep him disinterested in seeking a release from the spell for himself."

"That makes sense. How can I help you with this?"

Hermione gave Harry a grateful smile. "I knew you would help, even if it means helping a foe. That's why you're special Harry."

There was no backing out now. Harry sighed heavily. "Just tell me what you need to help the git. Oh, and to help us keep additional power from Voldemort into the bargain as well."

"Do what you always do Harry."

Harry could not bring himself to tell Hermione about the night that his scar woke him. The same night when Ron ranted on about Hermione, when Harry and Ron first noticed that Hermione was interested in Malfoy.

"Hermione. Voldemorte is going to move on this soon, isn't he? How much time do you think we have to... sort this all out?"

"Winter solstice is only a few weeks away," said Hermione. "I imagine that is the next possible time the releasing ceremony can be attempted. But who knows Harry. The power stores weren't retrieved on Draco's last birthday nearly two months ago. Perhaps the Dark Lord is waiting something we don't know about?"

Harry had no answer for Hermione; there were too many unknowns. "Should we tell Dumbledore?" asked Harry. The problems seemed far beyond what he and Hermione could tackle alone.

"No, no," Hermione shook her head. "If we tell Dumbledore, he will might place Draco under extreme protection, possibly Azkaban."

Harry looked shook. "Perhaps. Let's keep in mind that if we can't solve this soon, or if we run into trouble, there'll be no choice but to reveal all of this to Dumbledore. And I could let my godfather Sirius in on this at some point. Does Malfoy... do you agree to that much?"

Hermione shook her head, "I agree Harry, but to be truthful, Draco has fought me tooth and nail on this all along. I hoodwinked him into all this. He'd be satisfied to wait for the worst to happen. That is why I'm sure there is a complacency potion at work on him. It's just as well I suppose, probably far less frightening for him if he stays out of the solution finding end of things. Sometimes ignorance is bliss," Hermione looked guilty at Harry.

"Hermione, I know you are doing what you see as best for Malfoy. No one can blame you for wanting to help the little shi... I mean, help your boyfriend," Harry said sympathetically.

"Thank you Harry," Hermione said gratefully. "Harry, Draco is well aware that the only 'safe place' for him might be Azkaban, and he is terrified of the place."

"So am I Hermione, so am I, said Harry still feeling ill. "Hermione... say... what if we could just drain Draco of the power stores? There would be nothing for the Voldemort to drain from Draco. Wouldn't that work? Is that sort of solution you're looking for?"

Hermione gave Harry the queerest look he had ever seen on her face. "Sit back Harry. And I warn you now. If you laugh, or hold this over Draco's head in any way, I'll personally strangle you to death with my bare hands."

That much said, Hermione explained to Harry the bizarre details of Draco's delicate condition, particularly what was necessary for the release of the stored power, the loss of Draco's virginity during a ceremony in the presence of the Dark Lord and his thirteen most loyal Death-eaters, which included - Lucius Malfoy, Draco's Death Eater father.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Draco returned from his errands for Hermione, the Three Broomsticks was so crowded that it was difficult for him to cross the room. He decided to visit the WC before returning to Hermione. He took his time, stopping briefly to politely converse with a few forth and fifth year Slytherin with their Slytherin and Ravenclaw dates. Draco noticed there was a queue for the WC so he headed for the rear of the bar that was less crowded but that also had a loo. The rear of the bar was where the less reputable and hard-core clientele of the Three Broomsticks hung out.

Draco stopped briefly to admire the glittery holiday curtain that hung between the Three Broomsticks' main room and the rear of the pub. The curtain was composed of all sorts of starters floating along a flat plane from the doorway top to halfway to the floor. There were crisps, pretzels, fish fingers, pickled gherkins, lovely bits of jacket potatoes, and chicken wings. Floating and twisting amid the starters, sparkles, glittering stars and small heating lights floated under the tiny bubbling fonts of curry dips and fondues.

Draco stood, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he made up his mind what treat to sample. Finally he reached out and plucked a floating gherkin out of the curtain, and gnashed it down; rather salty but wonderfully crisp.

"Oi, mate", said a burly bearded gentlemen to Draco from the other side of the floating curtain of snacks and spangles. The older man noshed on a chunk of jacket potato.

"Hello," drawled Draco.

"You might want to give the yellow dip in the little pots a go. There's one up 'ere. Mustard dill. Nice."

"No thanks. Gives me gas," Draco lied. He had no intention of allowing anything tinted yellow near his favorite cloak. Draco smiled and walked forward, the curtain floating apart to allow him passage.

On the other side of the curtain the air was smoky and it was dark enough that Draco stood for a bit while his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The atmosphere was relatively quiet, probably because most the patrons in the backroom were hunched over hard drink, nursing hurts and/or heartaches. Draco took a few brisk steps forward before he saw something that halted him dead in his tracks. For cover he briskly stepped behind a group of gruff looking chaps. Draco surreptitiously peered through the group that stood swearing, laughing and downing swigs of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

That bloody tears it. Messalina is going to pay this time.

Off in a back corner Draco'd spotted the face of the lovely Messalina. Draco's eyes narrowed. The girl was in her element all right, managing to look beautiful despite the shabby surroundings. Apparently she also looked beautiful to the boy she was busily and aggressively snogging. The boy was largely blocked from Draco's view but the boy's rucksack up on the table boasted a large Gryffindor patch.

Those two would embarrass randy stoats in the month of May. Why doesn't the slag and her git just give it up and bugger each other on the tabletop?

Angrily, Draco headed for the other loo in the front room, crowded or not. Draco was furious. Messalina had not heeded Draco's warning. The girl was cuckolding Goyle and it had to stop.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As always, Harry was as good as his word. As soon as they returned to Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry continued the exhaustive search of the library, never leaving each evening until Madame Pince threw them out. They always returning later in the evening under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak researched the history of dark magic in the restricted section. They searched for days and found no more information on investment spells.

Hermione grew more frantic and morose. She was used to researching problems, but this was not for satisfaction of idle curiosity. She was embarked a task that would thwart the Dark Lord and therefore save from death countless magical folk and muggles alike.

Hermione researched, birth spells, protective spells, investing spells, virginity spells and chastity spells, and all possible sub-references and cross-references. When that was done she started all over again under charms, then the same again under enchantments, potions, enchanted objects, ad infinitum. Hermione managed to find magic to protect newborns, magic to wisely invest one's gold, magic to protect virginity and magic to guarantee chastity, but she found no additional magic whatever that promised to augment dark magic powers by virtue of storage in slaves. The textbook she showed Harry was the only reference she had come upon so far.

Final exams were a only a fortnight off so it did not stand out that the Harry now spent every free minute in the library or sitting in the commons reading. Hermione could have camped in the library with a tent sleeping bag and torch, and no one would have raised an eyebrow. Not even Ron and Ginny noticed anything out of the ordinary. Neither did they notice that the tomes read by Harry and Hermione had titles such as 'Ancient Magics, Ancient Powers' or 'Everything You Always Wanted to Know About the Magical Influences of the Seasonal Solstices' and one particularly ancient tome entitled, 'The Care, Feeding and Uses of Slaves and House-elves'.

Hermione was stumped. However she was not known for her intuitive powers for nothing.

Late one evening, Hermione sat alone, carefully perused volumes of necromantic research in the Gryffindor commons. She was the only student left at study, the others had long since retired for the night. She sat on the floor by the fireplace- utterly clueless. Hermione rubbed her tired red eyes and read on with dogged determination.

As midnight neared, Harry tromped down the dorm stairway in pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. He crumpled down on the floor in front of the fireplace with Hermione and made himself comfortable on a few throw pillows.

"How is the investigation going Hermione?" Harry had come to feel useless to Hermione's task other than the role of emotional support. He knew that Hermione's nerves were on edge, but this was as bad a case of nerves as he had ever observed in the girl.

Hermione sighed miserably. "It's no good Harry. I can't find a thing that even suggests that such a concept as 'font of power through virginity' even exists as either a spell, charm, potion, curse or hex. All except the one text that I showed to you. Why? Where is the information?" Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Do you know, Harry, I've had a thought. What if Draco's parents made up the whole story just to assure that Draco... um... keeps to himself? Perhaps there is no spell on him at all. Perhaps he only thinks there is?"

"I suppose," said Harry giving Hermione's idea some thought. "So you think they made up this elaborate story just to keep Malfoy a virgin? I say there is only one way to find out," Harry smiled brightly.

"I don't THINK so." Hermione fretted. "A suicide mission that."

Harry happily opened his mouth to speak but Hermione butted in. "Harry, don't go there.'

Harry took the risk of continuing. "It takes two to tango and it would be a shame for Malfoy to have to take some innocent with him on a test run. But what if we could convince either Crabb or Goyle to volunteer to deflower Malfoy? Not a pretty thought, but there you are! Or better yet, do you think maybe Snape...? Ooo, there's an incredibly ugly thought."

Hermione's face began to crinkle up preparatory for tears of frustration.

Harry immediately regretted his flippant comments. "I'm only joking, I'm sorry Hermione. You must admit, this is a... strange and... perversely amusing problem that Malfoy has. I'm only surprised he's managed to be so consistently... cheerful all these years."

"All these years. Yes, well what do you expect? He was hardly fretting over this when he was ten or eleven years old now, was he?"

Taken aback by Hermione's naiveté, Harry was tempted to say that from what he had observed of Draco's randy personality, Draco must have been actively fretting about his 'problem' when no more than eight or nine years old. The actual answer was much, much younger.

For those worried souls and guardians of the wizarding world's morality, one must remember that Draco's wishes always exceeded his grasp - no pun intended. However, the boy probably wasn't really in any real 'danger' of losing his innocence until he opened his veiled and prejudiced eyes to see the devoted, gentle and admittedly buxom soul that was the Miss Granger.

"Harry. I've avoided bringing something up. But now is as good a time as any." Hermione took a deep breath. "Draco was not born on October 31^st, 1980 as I've left you to believe."

"You see? The lying bastard." Harry said. "So when was the prawn born? Easter Sunday? Boxing Day?"

"October 31^st..."

"But you just said..."

"October 31^st. But not in 1980, he was born in 1981."

Hermionewatched as Harry's eyes went from amused to blank to shocked. Halloween, October 31^st, 1981. A day that did not leave often leave Harry's thoughts. On that day that Voldemort entered Godrick's Hollow, tracked down and systematically murdered Harry's father and mother, James and Lily Potter, and then attempted to murder their baby, Harry.

"Wha... wha... what does? What does Draco have to do with...?" Harry couldn't finish his sentence.

"Harry when your parents were murdered, Draco was not 24 hours old yet. Draco was a victim too, I explained that already," Hermione felt a little guilty her first concern was defending Draco, not helping her best friend cope. "Harry... I'm sorry. But I've found no connection between Draco's birth on that particular day and the murder of your parents later that same day. For all we know the only connection was that... Voldemort was looking for a perfect ending to his perfect day."

"That's not funny Hermione," spat Harry, reaching over to tempestuously slam shut an open textbook in front of Hermione. There was no humour in Harry for that day of all days.

"Oh, Harry... I apologize. Harry, I made a thoughtless comment, I'm so..."

"No, I'm sorry Hermione," Harry gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. "I didn't mean to be so touchy, but I can't seem to help myself." Harry looked thoughtful. "1981? So Draco is what? He just made fourteen? Well, what do you know - Malfoy is a baby prawn."

"Yes, I'm an 'older woman' Harry," said Hermione.

Harry chuckled at the thought and Hermione joined in. To a pair of fifteen year olds, a fourteen year old seems ridiculously young and oh so green. Add to that fact that both Hermione and Harry were tired and feeling inordinately silly.

"Hermione, I think we have a bad case of the late night sillies."

"I agree Harry. And this is all so un-funny," she covered her mouth and giggled.

"Hermione," said Harry pensively. "You always say there is magic in place here at Hogwarts. So then how did a nine year old prawn like Malfoy get a Hogwarts admittance letter? The youngest admitted here must be ten years old, as you were for a little while when you started school here." asked Harry.

"No problem at all when the nine year old's father is a member of the Hogwarts Board of Trustees. Who knows what tricks or subterfuge the likes of Lucius must have put in place for the Dark Lord's 'slave' to gain admittance. That is likely why Lucius is on the School Board at all. To watch over..." Hermione's voice choked for a second. "To watch over the Dark Lord's valuable and useful slave."

Hermione suddenly looked startled. "That's it! Harry, I'll bet Lucius Malfoy is responsible for Hogwarts not having books that explain or cover the Investment spells! He wouldn't want the books available where Draco might come across them!"

"Flippin' figures," said Harry. "Lucius Malfoy... that vile, wicked, evil, grotty..."

"Yes, Lucius sucks," said Hermione, curled up resting her chin on her knees. "Draco's parents told him that he was born just after midnight Halloween morning. He was born, and as soon as they could drag Narcissus out of her birthing bed, she and Lucius presented Draco to that vicious, vile, wicked..."

"Voldemort!" snapped Harry. The two were still silly, but also tetchy.

"The Malfoys offered Draco to the Dark Lord because as Draco was a newborn, Draco couldn't exactly voice his opinion on the matter. I know that much because the Malfoys told Draco so. Then the ceremony, whatever it was, began. I imagine it was something like starting wine grapes fermenting," Hermione explained.

"A memorable event," said Harry sarcastically. "So they took wizard photos and maybe wizard movies and served tea and cakes afterwards."

Hermione shouted, "You are NOT funny Harry." It was Hermione's turn to pout. She tucked her head back on her knee angrily.

Harry felt a little hurt. He was after all only trying to assist her and keep up their spirits. Harry's green eyes rolled upwards to the ceiling as he mulled over what she'd told him so far.

"Hermione. Why wouldn't they take wizard photos at or after the ceremony? Would wizard photos of Draco's birth ceremony be of any use to us?"

Hermione stared at Harry with such a fixed expression and for so long, that Harry became worried. Was she going to smack him? Slowly, Hermione uncurled her legs and sat up and onto her knees as if preparing to stand. Harry got to his knees too, wondering if he ought to run for cover before Hermione exploded and pummeled him to death with one of the floor cushions. Hermione did lunge herself at Harry, throwing her arms around him, squealing, "You are a genius!" Harry fell over backwards, Hermione laughed and kissed him on the cheeks, tickled his sides and squealed. "See Harry? I knew you could do this! You are the smartest thing EVER!"

Surprised and thrilled that Hermione was pleased with him, Harry laid back to enjoy the attention, his cheeks flaming red. Hermione and Harry laughed helplessly and hysterically. It was as if they were still 'ikle firsties' when they were innocent and relatively carefree. The release from their current woes was electric.

At this point in the story, no one should be the least surprised that Ron - our dear, long suffering Ron - clumped down the stairwell from the boy's dorm in pyjamas and dressing gown. Ron'd come down to check on what Harry and Hermione were up to. Homework? Right.

Ron entered the room just in time to see Harry toppling over backwards under the boisterously happy Hermione. Although Hermione was chastely kissing Harry's cheek, Ron heard her squealing, and saying things like, "you are a genius Harry!" And "oooo, I just love you to pieces you dear thing!"

For Ron, this was really too much. First Hermione choose the baby Death Eater Malfoy over him and now the contrary girl was on about Harry - Ron's best friend. As far as Ron knew, Harry didn't even want Hermione. Where was the justice in that? Ron stood, his chin stubbornly stuck out, hands on his hips and then he exploded.

"SO!"

Startled, Hermione and Harry looked up to see Ron, standing in the red and yellow light of the fireplace flames, looking positively dangerous. Harry jerked and gasped in horror. He knew how violent an angry Ron could be. Hermione saw no danger whatever. Smiling, she shot to her feet and raced over to Ron. "Don't look so stern Ron, you silly boy, I love you too!" Laughing she innocently flung her arms about Ron's neck and plied Ron's cheeks with the same chaste kisses she'd showered on Harry.

"Ron," called out Harry carefully. "Ron, you're right. Hermione actually is a bit mental these days."

Now there's the rub - by this point, Ron could not have cared less. As far as Ron was concerned, whatever in the universe made his much desired Hermione fling her arms around his neck and enthusiastically kiss his cheeks, was fine by him. Ron had no intention of allowing such a rare opportunity slip through his fingers. As Hermione flung held her arms around Ron's neck, the boy tightly clasped his arms around the girl's waist. Ron wrapped one blue pyjama clad, slippered leg up around Hermione's rear end, and balanced in a Kama Sutra-like manner against the delightful wiggling girl.

It is important to note that for her part, Hermione was still playing, and she began her hugs and little 'kissies' with firm assurance that Ron too was playing along in fun. Inside of a minute, Hermione leaned backwards preparatory to untangling herself from Ron only to discover that Ron had her firmly gripped and apparently had no intentions of releasing her.

"Ron?" It crossed Hermione's mind that Ron might be sleep walking.

"Harry and Malfoy already had their turns," said Ron firmly as Hermione attempted to wriggle free. "Now it's my turn." That said, Ron used a free hand to take a firm hold of Hermione's chin. He pressed his lips firmly against Hermione's lips and indulged himself in one of his favorite fantasies. A squeak of surprise escaped Hermione. But she continued to giggle, in spite of Ron's words, stubbornly maintaining her assumption that Ron was playing along in the high spirits of the occasion.

That was a good enough theory to work with, right up until she felt the undeniable presence of Ron's tongue.

Nope. Ron was not playing.

Hermione flayed her arms as she squealed, politely pushing against Ron, trying to untangle herself from the forest of arms and legs that had become Ron. The redhead apparently agreed with Draco Malfoy on a significant point; if one received one chance, and one chance only to kiss Hermione Granger, the kiss had to last as long as possible, and had to say it all. Ron poured his heart into the occasion.

Meanwhile, Harry remained kneeling by the fireplace, watching his two dearest friends engaged in a lively struggle. "Ron... Hermione... are you guys playing? Thought not. Well. I'm going upstairs. Don't let me disturb you." Harry wondered if he ought to intervene, but decided to follow the instincts that Hermione prided him on, and butt out. Standing, Harry walked over to his friends. Stopping momentarily Harry put his face up towards Ron who opened one blue eye and focused it fiercely on Harry.

Harry said with embarrassment, "Ron... Hermione wasn't kissing me - not really. She was just celebrating a brilliant idea I had. Honest. I mean to say; she gave me the kind of little 'kissies' one gives a cute baby. A cute baby. That'd be me."

Ron 's eye widened a bit in reconciliation, and as his lips and tongue and other portions of him were fully occupied or lying in wait, as he indulged himself with Hermione.

Ron rumbled through his throat to Harry, "Mmmmm mumph mnnnnmmm."

Harry smiled as he watched Ron's eyelid droop in relaxation. The blue eye took on a sleepy and satiated look and then slowly slide shut. The noises Ron made next might have been additional comments, or they might have been moans of pleasure, but nonetheless the sounds were not interpretable. And in any case, Ron's noises blended in with the contented sounds emitted by Hermione. Harry patted Ron on the shoulder and took off up the stairs to his dorm room, two steps at a time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bedded down in his four-poster, Harry could not sleep. He would have liked to, but the suspense of the situation downstairs in the commons drove him wild with curiosity. Not only that, but he had no idea what it was he said to Hermione that triggered her 'Eureka' moment. Add to that, since Hermione first told him of Malfoy's bizarre problem, sleeping became a difficult thing to do anyway. Harry lay on his back, staring up into the dark, with so many things to think about that he couldn't manage one coherent thought.

What seemed like an eternity later, Harry heard Ron quietly padding into the room. Harry peered through his four-poster curtains and called excitedly,

"Ron... pssst! What happened?"

"Go to sleep Harry," Ron answered back in a loud whisper.

"Wha...? No way!"

Harry wasn't having it. He leapt out of his four-poster and in three hops made it over to Ron who was taking off his dressing gown. With a jab of his index finger to Ron's sternum to accentuate each word, Harry snarled, "NO - YOU - DON'T! I have to listen to every stupid detail from you when everything goes wrong. Now for once things are looking... interesting... and you want to go bloody selfish and keep it to yourself? No way! Now what happened with Hermione? Did she... did she like it?" Harry realized he'd left his glasses on his bed stand. He hopped back across the room, snatching up his glasses.

"Well Ron?" Harry asked in a stage whisper. "Have you dragged Hermione kicking and screaming back to the side of good and, and, the force? Any chance you can steal her away from that elitist, pikey, candy floss-headed, albino bunny coloured, Gryffindor-baiting, Hagrid-back-stabbing, duckling killer?" Glasses in hand, Harry bounced back across the room.

"You mean Malfoy?" came the sleepy voice of Dean. "Godrick Gryffindor's G-strap, haven't you lads ripped her out of the arms of that slippery Slytherin Malfoy yet?"

"Ron GOT some?" yelled Seamus, suddenly awake. "Ron, you are the MAN! Didn't I tell you blokes that Ron is the MAN?"

"Dry Up Seamus!" chorused Harry and Ron.

"Harry," hissed Ron crossly. "Go to bed."

"NO!" Harry was adamant. "I'm telling you, you owe me this Ron! I want to know what's on. If Hermione hadn't been pleased with my brilliant idea - whatever it is - she wouldn't have kissed my cheek and you wouldn't have had a chance... at her... you know what I mean."

"Here," said Ron fixing suspicious blue eyes on Harry. "Just what were you helping Hermione with anyway?"

"Uh... extra credit term work. Anyway, if Hermione hadn't kissed my cheek, you wouldn't be standing here with that stupid... afterglow sort of look on your face." Harry learned the meaning and use of the word 'afterglow' from one of Seamus's notorious magazines that featured witches, apparently too poor to own clothing, and who sported staples in their navels.

Squinting, Harry put his face towards Ron's neck. He quickly put on his glasses and shouted loudly, "Hello! Is that a hickey on your neck Ron? No, great bunches of hickies! Loads of hickies!"

"Shut UP, Harry!" snarled Ron, but it was too late.

"Ron! You are the MAN!" shouted Seamus. "You are the SNOG monster from Randy Lagoon!"

"DRY UP SEAMUS!" yelled Ron.

"You tell him Seamus!" laughed Harry. "Way to go Ron!" shouted Harry with a happy whoop and fists raised high, he did a little dance of joy. "Ron got hick-ies! Ron got hick-ies!

Harry, Seamus and Dean whooped and hooted too. "Ron, the MAN got hick-ies! Ron the MAN got hick-ies!" Dean and Seamus jumped up and down on their four-posters. They leapt off their beds and raced over to slap Ron vigorously on his back.

"We are soooo proud, right chuffed," laughed Dean. "What happened Ron? Details? We want details!"

Ron looked thoroughly embarrassed, if not humiliated. So Harry thoughtfully started the tale for him.

"Well," started Harry, "you see, I was downstairs on the floor by the fireplace see? Then Hermione jumped on me and started kissing me and tickling..."

Another round of whoops and hoots started up as Dean and Seamus slapped Harry's back until his glasses flipped into the air.

"No, no," Harry tried to explain now totally flustered. "Hermione was just thanking me..."

"That's the best kind of snogging!" sniggered Dean. "When they're right grateful!"

"So Harry," started Seamus. "You're saying, the 'wiggling and gigglin' Granger, the Pride of Gryffindor herself, was hot enough to jump you, and snog you on the floor, in front of the fireplace? And then Ron, the MAN stole Hermione right out from under you?" Seamus turned to face Ron with a look of total respect and amazement. "Ron! You are my all time, flippin' HERO!" Seamus shook Ron by both shoulders, "I'm freaking carving your face on the wall in the girl's toilet! It is totally unfair that you can't win us some Gryffindor house points for this one!"

The door opened. Neville, his school robes slung over his shoulder, strolled in. Neville looked like a smart Vogue advertisement for the young man about town. Even in the moonlight that streamed through the window, they could see Neville's face, pink as posies. A string of off-color ruddy marks trailed up out of Neville's shirt collar and around his neck as though a tiny vixen had traced her way up to Neville's little red lips.

"Stand back Ron!" yelped Seamus happily. "I might have a bloody new hero a' waiting in the wings over here!"

Harry and Dean grabbed Neville and marched him over to the moonlit window. Ron and Seamus pulled open Neville's collar and they all whistled appreciatively at Neville's 'love bites'. Now even Ron was snorting and laughing along with the others.

"Whoa!" said Ron, happy to have the attention off of himself. "Those are some amazing hickies you have there Neville. Really impressive." Ron could appreciate a good looking hickey; his string of older, hickey laiden brothers had made him quite a connoisseur of hickey arts.

"So... how are things going with your dishy 6^th year girl then?" asked Harry who had finally retrieved his glasses and managed to suck in enough air to speak.

Neville smiled shyly. "Fiona? I must say, she's..." Then Neville surprised them all by turning to stare quizzically at Seamus. "Wait just a minute... Seamus... who are you seeing then? What are you up to? You haven't spent much time... um... playing... um." Neville went scarlet, but bravely continued. "Seamus, we haven't heard you take the pony out of the barn for a ride in donkey's ages."

The boys dissolved again into shrieks and hoots of laugher.

"Neville, what is that sixth year Ravenclaw honey teaching you mate?" Dean laughed helplessly.

"Right you are Neville!" Harry playfully shoved Seamus. "Our Seamus hasn't strangled a chicken or abused that monkey of his for yonks! I've been meaning to ask."

"Yes," sniggered Dean, "a bloke can hardly sleep around here anymore for the Quiet!"

"Come on baby!" snorted Ron in his best imitation of Seamus' late night... activities. "Come on baby, OOOOOooooo baby, baby, BABY!"

"Yeah, what's 'up'... if you'll pardon the expression," Ron managed to say between snorts of laughter. "What's on Seamus? You finally broke that willie of yours from overuse, or did you find a live substitute for your sweetheart 'Rosie Palms'?"

"You nosey gits!" laughed Seamus good naturedly. "What the flippin' hell you think I was practicing for, eh? I finally got the bloody thing right and I took it on the flippin' road!"