Valentine's Day Minus

D minus 5

"Saint John's Wort."

"That's a cure for depression," Hermione said vaguely. "Scaring all the anti-depressant makers."

"Well, it's also part of the cure to shrinking solutions," Draco sat on the table in front of her, pushing her book away.

"You look like the cat who got the cream," Hermione observed.

"What can I say, it's a rule-breaking high. I could be the next bad boy of Hogwarts." He grinned ferally. "I could swap velvet and silk for leather and lace, have some obscure tattoo in a scandalous place, and take up smoking. Evil is sexy."

"Evil is not sexy. Voldemort's not sexy," Hermione pointed out.

Draco shrugged this off. "Everyone loves a bad boy. Evil has wicked eyes and great hair."

"I thought Good had great hair?"

"No, Good has great teeth," Draco dismissed her. "Great teeth and sensible shoes. See, you're Good. You're parents are dentists, for heavens sake. You never had much of a chance, poor thing. But me? I'm bad to the bone. I've got a father in prison, great hair and enough money to buy Manhattan. Evil is Sexy, and Sex is me."

"Do you know where Manhattan is?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"Egypt, right?"

"Yes, Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Besides, 'Sex is me'?"

"By Valentine's day." Malfoy dropped a heavy, plain book in front of her, grinning proudly. Hermione had a vague urge to pat him on the head and give him a Scooby Snack. Well, kind of. In a 'not really' kind of way. It was a Saturday, and she suspected Draco had dressed in the dark to keep from waking others in his dormitory. With Draco's non-uniform wardrobe, Hermione had observed, it wasn't hard to put on any combination and come up looking good. It was all green, silver or black anyway. His eyes were burning with the kind of intensity that only came with a sleepless night and he leant in with a sense of desired intimacy rather than privacy. His mouth was slightly open, lips wet and tongue flicking out to moisten them further.

"Good dog," Hermione patted him on the head.

"You know, I can see right down your top," Draco retaliated. He tilted his head to one side and laughed as Hermione reflexively pressed a hand to her chest to hide her cleavage. She looked down. Damn. Turtleneck jumper. Smarmy bastard.

Hermione sighed theatrically and reached for the book. "The Joy of Magical Sex - a picture book," she read. Brown eyes met grey. "You're kidding me?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "There's a page on enlarging, uh, 'aspects'. There's a paragraph about excuses, and it mentions shrinking solutions, and it mentions what to do should it actually have happened."

"See, you never needed my help," Hermione said calmly. "Can I have my diary back?"

"No. I'm looking for the bit saying you and Dumbledore are involved in a passionate affair, but because he's so old he can't get it up and that's why you're so moody." Draco watched Hermione's eyes. "Yeah, that was how I felt," he said smugly. "And then a Ravenclaw decided it was a good time to make me imagine my parents having sex...yes, that's precisely how I felt," he smirked, watching her. "I swear this school's standards are slipping. We've got people like Longbottom, who can't tell a wand from a broomstick, and now even the Ravenclaws are thick as two short planks. It's the halfbloods, I tell you. All this mixed breeding."

"Funny, but I thought stupidity was associated with inbreeding?" Hermione smirked. "You know, like your family? How nearly every single pureblood happens to be related to you?"

"Oh shut up. It's good blood," Draco sniffed. "I'm talented."

"You're spoilt. Did you read this?" Hermione stared at the book. "I don't even want to think what some of these stains are."

"It's been checked out a hell of a lot, too. Not by any students, though."

They shared a shudder.

"You want page three hundred and fifty two," Draco said. "The one with the two wizards, a witch, a centaur and a unicorn. The potion instructions are just below the illustration."

Hermione used her transfiguration homework to cover the frightening picture while she read through the instructions. "This seems pretty basic, and we ought to be able to get in over and done with in less than an hour. Even preparation time's short. Just overnight."

"Good good."

"I should probably copy this out. A book this popular is sure to be wanted around Valentine's Day, and we don't want anyone to know it's missing." As Hermione copied the luridly descriptive instructions in an incongruously neat and restrained handwriting, she paused to ask another question. "It's the closest Hogsmeade Weekend to Valentine's Day, and yet you're here in the library with me. Where's Pansy?"

"I told her I was doing research for next Friday night. Showed her the book."

"That was probably a mistake. If anyone notices it's gone, they'll know it was you."

"Yes, because they're going to announce over breakfast that an illustrated sex guide has gone missing from the restricted section, and would whichever horny teenager took give it back because there are some very lonely teachers who need the pictures this coming Friday."

They both laughed.

"It's funny," Hermione observed as she finished copying the instructions with a slight flourish, "at Muggle schools they have sex education, but not a word has been whispered here. I mean, there must be magical methods of contraception, but I know nothing."

"Most teens in the wizarding world stick to condoms," Draco shrugged. "Easier to hide than any medallion or magical mark, doesn't smell like most of the potions and ointments, no loud chanting to kill the mood, and available pretty much everywhere. Plus, so much easier to get rid of the evidence if your parents walk in while you're still in some post-coital haze."

"You know, that was more than I ever wanted to know," Hermione said politely. "No wonder they don't bother with sex education."

Draco laughed. "At a place like this all the staff are too old fashioned to conceive of the idea that we might all be doing it like bunnies."

"We're not all at it like rabbits," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, not in Gryffindor," Draco smirked lazily. Hermione fought her amusement. She hadn't expected to win, but she suddenly received reinforcements from an unexpected area.

"Hermione?"

"Ron," she swallowed.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" his attention shifted abruptly. And then back again, to the more trusted source of information, "he's not bothering you, is he?"

Hermione stared at her friend. "It's okay, Ron," she managed.

"What's he doing here?" Ron demanded angrily.

"What are you doing here?" Draco countered before Hermione could reply. "I thought you were banned from the library."

"It's been lifted," Ron replied coldly.

"Woo. Hoo." Draco stared up at him. "And Yip. Pee. De. Doo. Dah.."

"Oh stop it, both of you," Hermione sighed.

"Why are you defending him?" Ron leaped on her statement.

"I'm not," Hermione said bluntly. "Really, Ron, why would I?"

"Hey, right here," Draco said snippily.

"Why is he here?" Ron asked again.

"Homework," Draco said smarmily. "It's what those of us who aren't planning to make careers out of woodcarving do in the library."

"My uncle's a woodcarver," Hermione said suddenly. "Does all the fairs. I've got a stool he made at home."

The boys both turned to frown at her. "Well, that shut you both up," Hermione said superiorly. "Look, Ron, I'd rather Draco wasn't here either, but he asked for my help and I wasn't quick enough to find a good reason not to."

"Isn't absolute gut-rotting hate a good reason?" Ron asked, looking honestly astounded.

"I hate her too," Draco pointed out.

"What does he want? He's not hurting you, or anything? I mean, no blackmail?" Ron persisted.

"What do you think I've got hiding in my bottom drawer, Ron?" Hermione asked, forcing levity into her voice. "Look, you go and find Harry and I'll come join you boys down on the Quidditch pitch, okay? I know that's why you came to find me. Just give me a minute to get rid of the amazing bouncing ferret."

Ron looked sulky, but he reluctantly agreed. He'd pushed it already, suggesting Hermione had secrets that could be held over her, he didn't want to imply he didn't trust her either. He didn't, but pointing it out probably wasn't a wise course of action.

"It was your bedside table, actually," Draco murmured when he was gone.

"What?" Hermione asked distractedly.

"Where you hid your blackmail material," Draco smirked.

"So, same time again tomorrow?" Hermione asked awkwardly.

"I guess so."

"We can plan who's going to get what. You've got more access to Snape's cupboard than I-"

"Oh no," Draco shook his head vehemently. "Not likely. No way. And other negative expressions."

"You have much better access," Hermione said. No, pleaded. Damn.

"We'll discuss this tomorrow," Draco said. It would give him time to come up with a better excuse than 'shan't'. "Don't you have to run and meet Potty and Weasel?"

"Really. Old. Joke."

"So is 'amazing bouncing ferret'," Draco pointed out dryly. "And you're the one who's going to have to come up with an excuse."

"You mean a lie. You're making me lie to my friends," Hermione said unhappily.

"Yes," Draco said simply.

Night

Liars wouldn't look you in the eye, and they gestured a lot, and one side of their face tended to move more than the other. Hermione wasn't a good liar. She knew how to spot a liar, but for some reason she'd never managed to put that knowledge into any use relating to her own fibbing. Hell, she even blushed.

She hated herself for wanting to be a better liar. She shouldn't even be lying at all. It was all Draco fault, corrupting her. He was making her lie to her friends. She'd always held people who lied to their friends in contempt. When she took Harry's broom to McGonagall, she'd told them the truth when asked, even though it meant Ron and Harry cut her out.

And they'd befriended her again. Hermione bit her lip. Perhaps the truth would have been better. Ron hadn't even been able to look at her during dinner. They both knew she had lied. And now they probably thought something far worse was going on between her and Draco than actually was. But if she'd told them the truth Draco would have read that bit from her diary about Ron that night to everyone, or that bit about her dream about Harry, or even the thing Ginny had confided to her. Oh, there was little to implicate Hermione, but she couldn't bring her friends into this.

And that upset her, for some reason. Not the idea that she might hurt her friends, but that she had nothing to hurt herself with. Was she really that good? "Good has great teeth," Draco had said, "you never really had much of a chance." And now she thought about it, she hadn't. She was pragmatic. It was sensible not to break rules. And she was smart. Smart got on well with teachers. Well, only if Smart was eager to learn, which she had been. She knew some Smart was too smart, and got bored of learning.

And now she was head girl. This last year she hadn't done anything that could blemish her record. No invisibility cloak escapades, or potion experiments, or even any use made of the Room of Requirement. It would be nice to just have a little bit of rule breaking to her name in there, something minor. Maybe not even rule breaking, just something that wasn't strictly approved of. Like Ginny's secret. Just something scandalous.

Victor Krum, that had been slightly scandalous. At least, it had turned up in Witch Weekly. Just a quick relationship, a fling, which would make people look at her and go, 'oh, she's human too.'

Because some days she didn't feel it.