Valentine's Day Minus

D minus 6

"You were right, engorgement charms would just make it all so much worse," Hermione commented as Malfoy slipped surreptitiously into the seat next to her. She sat with one arm on the back of the chair, one elbow on the table, book in her lap. Malfoy found himself with a good view of the back of her head as she continued talking. "Please don't tell me you learnt that from experience, or we've got no chance of solving this by Valentine's Day. In fact, we'd be lucky to solve it by the end of the next millenium."

"Well thank god I know how to engage my brain and know to look before I leap," Malfoy muttered sardonically. "I checked all these books. You're supposed to be looking in the restricted area."

"I need a teacher's pass for that. Who am I supposed to convince to give me a pass for a book curing this kind of magical malady?" Hermione shot him a sideways look, twisting in her seat.

"I gave that some thought," Malfoy said seriously. "Snape, firstly. I can't, because he'd guess, and this really isn't the kind of thing you want teachers involved in besides. He'd delay on purpose."

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh come on. Look at the guy. When do you suppose the last time he got any?" Malfoy scoffed. "Bitter, jealous men do not good research partners make."

"Why would he give anything to me?" Hermione asked. "You know he hates me."

"Yeah, but you're head girl."

"Yes, I'm head girl, not head mistress," Hermione pointed out. "Power over students only, and then not much."

"Make up an excuse."

"Who else did you have in mind?" Hermione sighed, changing tack.

"Madame Pomfrey. Tell her you're researching rare mystical maladies. She might even let slip some information herself."

"Again, why didn't you ask?"

"I did, but she said I'd had enough to know anything I needed to." Malfoy grimaced. "I can't help being such a delicate creature."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyone else?"

"McGonagall is practically falling over herself for you. I'm sure she'd give you anything you asked," Draco said with derision.

"Like Snape isn't over you?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Tell her it is Auror research, or something. You want to do that, right?"

Hermione looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. Maybe. The boys want to but... it's not where I see myself going. I don't know," she sighed. "Why do we have to make these decisions now, anyway?"

Malfoy gave her an evaluating look. "I see you staying here," he said quietly. "Teaching. This place hasn't had a headmistress for centuries, you know, and she only because her late husband had been headmaster. You'd start in a subject like transfiguration and work your way up. McGonagall's slated for Headmistress after the old coot's gone, and you could easily follow her up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Hermione said, surprised.

Malfoy leant in, chin almost on her shoulder. "Of course, officially," he half-whispered, "I'm totally horrified by the idea of someone who was not only mudblood friendly, but a mudblood herself, running this place. But only officially."

"You are a boy of many layers," Hermione observed dryly. "Like cake."

"Like cake?"

"Well, you're definitely not deep enough to deserve comparison with an onion," Hermione grinned. "You're stale cake."

"I'll remember that," Malfoy said, mouth twitching in a smile of his own. "Strange, strange girl." He thought for second. "I've made enough people cry to be an onion."

Hermione shook her head. "Too late," she said. "Would have been funny, but you left it too late."

"I know. Timing's off today," he shrugged. "So, cure me."

Hermione sighed. "We need that pass for the restricted section, unless we sneak in at night. And I know from experience that's not likely to work." She stared coolly at Draco. "I'm not risking my position as head girl for you, you know."

"Not asking you too," Draco said. He paused. "Well, I am. Tonight good for you?"

"No," Hermione said bluntly. "You want to go sneaking about at night, do it on your own."

"But I'd much rather commit illegal acts with you," Draco said.

Hermione turned and stared at him. Draco held her gaze calmly. Joke in poor taste, poor phrasing, or... Hermione didn't like the 'or'.

"I thought you didn't like breaking rules?" she said, mustering calm.

"Why do you think I don't want to do it alone?" Draco smiled.

"If you don't then you'll be doing it alone on Valentine's night," Hermione said, proud of her wordplay.

"Very droll," Draco said coldly. "Can we please get back to the matter at hand?"

"I thought we were," Hermione sighed. "I'll do what I can to get legal access to the books we might need in the restricted section. If you want to risk it, you can try for illegal access. I can't risk getting caught, Malfoy. I was lucky to get this position with my record. I can't afford any more mistakes."

"No wonder Potter never even made prefect," Malfoy mused. "I'm surprised Weasley did." When Hermione shot him A Look he went on, "what with him having the same track record, and all." Hermione had to concede that. "Help me, Hermione Granger, you're my only hope."

Hermione blinked at the reference, not sure whether it was intended or not, but Draco kept talking before she could ask.

"I'm not a complete dunce when it comes to Muggle culture, you know." Ah, Hermione thought. Probably was a reference. Still, 'Star Wars'? Not really what she saw Malfoy indulging in. "I mean, compared to the previous generation, it's positively scandalous how much I know. I even learnt to drive, I'll have you know. Muggle cars operate on pretty much the same system as wizard cars, but they don't fly. Pity."

"Yes, pity," Hermione said wryly.

Draco picked up a book and began browsing it in a bored fashion. "Would you work faster if I paid you?" he asked nonchalantly.

"No," Hermione said simply.

"Only, Pansy's getting really tired of waiting. She doesn't see the point in waiting for Valentine's Day. And I'm not sure that, working at this rate, you'll even be finished by then." Draco studied his nails. "So, can we speed this up?"

"No," Hermione said, letting a little frustration leak into her tone.

"Only, I'm an eighteen year old virgin and I see the possibility of being an eighty year old virgin getting more and more likely."

"You're not the only one," Hermione growled under her breath.

"Oh?" Draco leant in, smiling shrewdly. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No such place," Hermione evaded him.

"Who is it? Potter or Weasley? Give me that, at least, Granger. Give me that and I'll even stop the scar cracks."

Hermione turned and looked at him. "You will stop them anyway, or your little predicament is going in the next Witch Weekly."

"I'm a good listener," Draco persisted. Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "No, really. How do you think I get hold of so much gossip?"

"You read trashy magazines and ill-informed newspapers," Hermione said bluntly.

"Well, yes," Draco admitted uncomfortably. "But you've got my curiosity piqued. What's the point in working together if we don't share a few heart-to-hearts?"

"You've been watching too many Christmas specials," Hermione said. Draco looked puzzled for a second, but his face cleared. "Besides, I loathe you for your personality, you hate me irrationally for my heritage, and I'm only helping you because you blackmailed me into it."

"Well, true." Draco sat back. "But still, I'm bored. It sounds entertaining. You're not getting any, and you want someone to give it to you."

Hermione thought for a moment. The look on her face scared Draco, slightly, but naturally he was too man to let it show. "Well, I am only human," Hermione smiled sweetly. "Is the wizarding world so archaic it has yet to recognise the nature of female sexuality?"

"Eh?" Draco managed.

Hermione laughed. "Never mind," she said. "I'll go and ask now, just to see if I can get into the restricted section without a teacher's note. You... I don't know. Do something to help yourself. See if you can find anything else we can't try."

As she walked away Draco stared blindly at the book in front of him. That had been surreal. Granger wasn't sexually attracted to books. Very odd. Unless that was why she hadn't told him who she had her eye on, because she was. Oooh, what if it was Dumbledore?

"Are you okay?" a Ravenclaw asked. "You look like you're about to be sick."

Draco managed a weak smile. "Bad mental picture," he explained.

"You look really ill."

"It was that kind of picture."

"Oh dear."

"Indeed."

"Parents having sex?"

Draco swallowed and shot the scared third year a very evil look. "No, but it is now. Thank you so much for that."

Night

The library was not a fun place to be at night. The floor creaked of its own accord and the books fluttered on the shelves. The shelves seemed to have moved from their daytime positions, so despite still being within sight of the door he felt hopelessly lost. Every step held the risk of finding some abandoned pencil or quill or stack of parchment and going flying. For someone as naturally jumpy as Draco it was a recipe for an early heart attack.

On the other hand, with the noise in this place his careful sneaking shouldn't have been detected. Well, not until the alarms started blaring.

It was all Potter's fault, Draco decided as he took refuge in a closet just outside. He'd snuck into the restricted section so often they'd had to install a gate, and to cross that gate without permission set alarms off.

No, wait, that was just Peeves.

"Bugger off, before I call the Bloody Baron," Draco hissed at the grinning spook. "I'm head prefect of Slytherin. He'll come, you know."

"What's the head prefect of Slytherin doing sneaking into the library, aye?" Peeves cackled. "Some sneaky Slytherin scheming afoot?"

"Yes," Draco said bluntly. "Go away."

"I haven't seen you doing much sneaky Slytherin sneaking, not around here," Peeves said, almost conversationally.

"Yeah, well, I'm new to it." Draco snarled. "I don't know all the rules yet."

"There are rules to breaking rules?" Peeves looked baffled.

"For example, I don't know whether it's acceptable to blast irritating ghosts into eternity to keep them from blowing my cover," Draco smiled cruelly, producing his wand from one voluminous sleeve. "Let's see, we did this one in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I'm sure. Vultu Vestae..."

And Peeves was gone. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Draco made his way back into the library. In the darkness the Restricted Section loomed ominous and forbidding.

"I do this in the name of love," Draco said out loud. "Isn't that it? When you do something in the name of love things are supposed to go your way. You overcome any obstacle."

The darkness still scared him anyway. He cursed his parents for spoiling him so much as a young child, swallowed his fear, and approached the books as cautiously as before. Hopping over the gate he sidled up to the quietest shelf and plucked a book from it at random. He opened it and lost a large portion of his sleeve to it before he managed to slam it shut again and force it back amongst its brethren. Draco sighed heavily. He'd be here 'til dawn, but he was here in the name of love.

Well, lovemaking. He was far too practical to fall in love, especially with a girl as ugly and stupid as Pansy. Love was for girls who read too many books and stared at too many pictures of overly effeminate young men, and boys like Potter who thought a muscle designed to pump blood had helped his mother defend him from Voldemort. Love was a word cooked up by card manufactures and failing seasonal economies. There was sex, there was respect, there were maternal instincts, there was mutual benefit, but there was no love.

Why was he here again?