A Hogwarts Reunion

"So, shall we go back inside and see what your brother and our best friend have gotten up to?" Harry shot her a conspiratorial grin.

"I have the strangest feeling, Potter. Almost as though you didn't bring me out here to be alone with me, but to leave my brother alone, to his own devices. You should know if that's the case that where my brother is concerned, Murphy's law reigns supreme." Harry chuckled.

"Is that so?" his thumb caressed the knuckles of the hand he was holding, and goosebumps arose on her skin. "I think Ron has waited long enough. He'll make his move tonight."

"Want to place a wager on that?" her self-assured smirk was irresistible.

"Absolutely," he said, nodding. "What exactly are we wagering?"

"Hmm, maybe this was a bad idea, after all," she mused aloud, her tone teasing. "It's not fair to take advantage of you, what with you being gone for so long."

"Take advantage of me?" he echoed, laughing. "Oh, you are confident, aren't you?"

"Perhaps, but if I am, it's because I have reason to be." She grinned wickedly at him.

"Stakes?"

"You suggest something first. What is it that you want from me?" She tapped her finger against her chin while she thought.

"The loser has to clean the winner's house for an entire week," she offered. He arched an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Gin, you do remember where I live, and the fact that I've been gone for four years, right? No one has stepped foot in that house to clean it in all that time." She frowned.

"Oh. Right," she nodded. "All right, then, you think of something."

"Loser spends the rest of the night being the winner's slave," he suggested, a twinkle in his eyes. She blinked, and a slow smile appeared on her face.

"Why, that's hardly a punishment," she laughed. "To spend all of that time in each others' company?" He grinned.

"I'm glad you feel that way, since you're going to be serving out your sentence at my house." She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I thought you just said that your house hadn't been cleaned in four years," she pointed out. His grin turned wicked.

"I lied," he admitted. "I just didn't relish the thought of cleaning the Burrow." She rolled her eyes.

"I was thinking more along the lines of my own home when I suggested that, not my mother's house," she laughed.

"Oh," he looked sheepish. "I forgot about that."

"That's okay. I rather like the idea of having a slave," she mused aloud. "Mistress Weasley has a certain ring to it, you know."

"So cocky," he laughed, reaching for her hand. "What are you going to do if you have to call me Master Harry?"

"You won't have to worry about that, because it isn't going to happen."

~*~

"W-what?" Ron stammered, surprised.

"Quit talking, and - oh, sod it all," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. She reached forward and grabbed a handful of his jumper, then pulled hard. He was forced closer to her, his eyes wide as she pressed her lips against his. Several moments later she released him and pulled away slightly, staring breathlessly at him.

A split second later, he leaned forward and plunged his hands into her hair, crushing his lips against hers.

"Looks like I've got myself a slave for the evening," Harry laughed, poking Ginny's side. They had just passed through the doors of the Great Hall when they'd seen Ron pull Hermione into a heated kiss. Ginny sighed.

"Leave it to Ron to grow a pair the one time I have a bet riding on him," she lamented. Harry gave her a sideways glance.

"Do you want to cancel the bet?"

"Harry Potter, how could you even suggest such a thing? Absolutely not!" she looked scandalized. "A Weasley never goes back on a bet!"

"All right," he nodded solemnly. "Then I shall expect complete compliance and subservience from you for the rest of the night." She nodded and stuck her chin out. "First order of business - I need to dance again. I love this song." She laughed and dropped a curtsey to him.

"Right away, Master Harry."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Pansy returned to Draco's table looking flushed and happy. He drained his glass of punch and rose from his seat. "Let's get out of here," he said, holding his hand out to her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, putting her hand in his. He led her towards the front doors quickly, as though afraid that the werewolf might come back and try to whisk her away again.

"To my quarters, away from all of this noise, to relax and have a cup of chocolate." He sidestepped a kneazle's tail.

"What about my date?" she asked. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at her.

"I don't bloody well care if you came with an entire Quidditch team - you're leaving with me."

~*~

Ron pulled away and stared at Hermione, although he didn't remove his hands from her hair. His thumb was gently stroking the side of her face as she returned his stare, breathless.

"Wow," he whispered. She nodded.

"Wow," she agreed. He dropped a light kiss on her lips, then gave her a small smile.

"I never thought - I mean, not in a hundred years, I didn't think you'd ever kiss me like that. Especially not when you realized that I ... that I care about you."

"I'd be stupid not to," she reasoned, her voice trembling. "I'd be passing up everything I've ever wanted. A best friend and a ..." she blushed, then cleared her throat. "A best friend and a lover all in one." His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded.

"You're not doing this because you feel sorry for me, are you?" he asked suddenly, his face clouding over. She shook her head quickly.

"Absolutely not," she breathed. "I feel incredibly stupid, Ron. I should have noticed earlier."

"I thought maybe you had noticed and just decided to ignore it," he said miserably. "You know the old adage, 'Ignore it and it'll go away?'" Her jaw dropped slightly.

"Ron, I would never-"

"I know," he cut her off. "I know you wouldn't, Mione."

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to leave? Maybe we could go back to my quarters, or to..." she blushed again. "Or to your flat?" She was surprised when he leapt out of his chair and helped her up.

"Let's go." He pretended not to see her startled look, and smiled to himself. Hermione had finally come around, and he was not about to let her get away.

~*~

"This is an interesting piece," Pansy mused thoughtfully. She was eyeing one of the paintings on Draco's wall critically, inspecting every brush stroke. She turned to him.

"How much did you pay for this one? It's exceptional."

"I didn't pay anything for it," he drawled, lifting the cup of chocolate to his lips. She turned back to the picture and rolled her eyes at it. He probably knows the artist or the art dealer, and got it for free, she thought. How very like a Malfoy to use his influence to get what he wants, instead of working for it, like everyone else.

"Did someone give it to you?" she asked, turning back to him. He shook his head and licked the chocolate off of his lip.

"Didn't need to," he said, sitting his cup down. "I painted it." He stared at her when a snort of disbelief escaped her. "What's so funny about that?"

"Draco, quit funning. Really, how did you get it?" He rose from his seat and removed the cape he'd been wearing.

"I told you, I painted it." She kept waiting for him to crack a smile, but he never did. Her mouth fell open.

"You really did this?" she turned back to it, examining it again. "But it's lovely! And since when do you paint?"

"I've been dabbling in it off and on for a few years now," he said, draping the cape on the back of an armchair and moving to stand beside her. "I had some bad luck when I first started, and kept throwing unfinished paintings away. There was something about this one, though, that merited keeping."

"I would have to agree," she said, turning to face him. He turned his slate eyes to her and stared. "You're turning out to be quite the surprise, Draco Malfoy," she said admiringly.

"Is that so?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. She nodded.

"Indeed."

"And that's a good thing, I expect?" his eyes fell on her lips, and the blood rushed from her head.

"Definitely good," she whispered, watching his face come nearer. She closed her eyes just as his lips descended on hers.