Life without danger is a waste of oxygen

It was Harry's first night off in ages--no Occlumency and no late night practice in the Room of Requirement. He decided to take his broom out and have a late night fly across the Quidditch pitch. Just as he was about to mount his broom, he noticed a figure lying on the ground.

"Hey, Ginny, what are you doing out here?" Harry asked her.

"Just watching the stars."

Harry joined her so that they were lying on their backs together, looking up at the darkened sky.

"Harry, what do you suppose these stars really mean?" she asked him.

"I don't know. In Muggle school, they taught us that stars were burning balls of gas, billions of miles away."

"You didn't like it when you were with the Muggles, did you?"

"Not particularly, though that's because they didn't treat me very well. Not all Muggles are like that."

"No?" asked Ginny, surprised.

"I had a teacher once, when I was eight years old. Her name was Mrs. Doberman. I never had any friends at school because Dudley, my cousin, bullied people and made them laugh at me. The other kids would take my lunch and push me around all the time. Mrs. Doberman was always kind to me, though. She would bring me in special sandwiches, not the horrible mustard ones that my aunt made me, but nice ones, whatever filling I wanted. She stopped the other kids bullying me in class and was always nice to me."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know; after I left school at ten, I never saw her again. I hope that wherever she is, she's happy."

"Harry, I know something is going on, even though no one is telling me anything. The Dark Lord is getting stronger, isn't he?"

"Ginny, the less you know, the better," said Harry grimly.

"Harry, I am NOT a child!" she said firmly, standing up and pulling Harry to his feet.

"I know you're not a child."

"Then stop treating me like one."

"Ginny, I care about you. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"If you cared about me, you would confide in me," she snapped back at him.

"Ginny, Voldemort is getting stronger, and the Order are doing all they can to prepare. That's all I know."

"So you, Ron, and Hermione are not part of the Order?"

"No," Harry lied.

"Okay, I believe you."

They looked up at the stars for a while before the silence was broken.

"We'd better get back," said Ginny, "or as a prefect, I'll have to take house points from you."

"I'd like to see you try," teased Harry as they made their way back to their common room.

**********

The next morning, the trio all had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall and the Slytherins. They were learning to conjure inanimate objects.

"The incantations is: Inanimatus conjurus. Homework was set on this last year. Can anyone tell me what this incantation is used for? Yes, Miss Granger?"

"It's used to conjure lifeless, inorganic objects--for example, a mirror."

"Well done, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, this spell only works if the mind is focused. I want you all to try and conjure a needle first. Simply picture the needle in your head, and then say the spell."

By the end of the class, only the trio and Draco had managed to perfect the spell, namely because they had all used it before.

After the lesson, Hermione, Ron, and Harry went up to Dumbledore's study to discuss their progress.

"I am very pleased with you all," Dumbledore began. "You have taken on great responsibility this year and appear to be living up to it very well. Right, where do we begin? Hermione?"

"Well, my mediwitch training is going very well. I have been studying the different potions used for more serious injuries." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "My Head Girl duties are going well too."

"And how are you finding things, Ron?" Dumbledore smiled at him.

"Fine. Everything's going well."

"And you, Harry?"

"I'm okay. My Occlumency certainly seems better than it was last year. What are the Order working on at the moment?"

"Interesting you have asked that. We seemed to have picked up several new trustworthy members and everyone is working very hard. I will tell you everything, all in good time. Well, has anyone anything more to say to me?" They all shook their heads. "No? You must go to lunch then, and I will see you soon."

**********

That evening was Gryffindor's first team practice. Harry gathered the team in the changing rooms to give them a little pep talk.

"Right, come on guys," he addressed them. "I expect a lot from you all this year. It's my last year and I'll be damned if anyone beats us for the Quidditch Cup. Now, let's get out there and start training. Who's with me?"

Harry looked around at the blank faces staring back at him. "Right, we'll work on our verbal response later," he said. "Now get out there."

The team trekked out onto the pitch to find the Slytherins were already there.

"Oi, Malfoy! What do you think you're playing at?" shouted up Harry.

The Slytherin team swooped down on their--once again--brand new racing brooms.

"Did you say something?" Malfoy drawled.

"I've had this pitch booked for today since last week. If you'd checked the book you would know," replied Harry.

"Well, since we're all here, how about a little friendly game?" dared Draco.

"No way, Malfoy. You don't do friendly."

"Okay, if you're not up for the challenge."

"We'll play." Ginny said, stepping up next to Harry.

"What's this, Potter? Getting your little girlfriend to fight your battles?" Ron lunged forward to grab Draco, but Harry held him back.

"You're on," Harry said, still trying to restrain Ron.

"Good," Draco smiled, walking over to the rest of his team.

Harry huddled with the Gryffindors. "Guys, we can beat them. Lets just stay focused and cool. Don't let them get to you. Just try your best out there."

Draco huddled with the Slytherins. "Right, this is our chance to 'accidentally' take as many players as possible out before the season's first official game. If those beds in the hospital wing are empty tonight there'll be hell to pay. Got it?" They all nodded, the new first-year looking rather scared.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"Let's do this," Draco replied, kicking off from the ground.

The game began. It was different without a commentator and the cheering crowds. Harry flew up fairly high and began to search for the Snitch. Draco, however, had no intention of searching for any Snitch. He wanted to use this opportunity to see exactly what his team were made of this year.

There were two new players on the team this year. The first was a second-year called Hugo Harper. For a tiny kid, Draco had to admit that the bulge of muscle in his forearm was impressive. After getting him to whack a Bludger a few times, Draco had placed Goyle in reserve and assigned Harper the position of Beater. The second new player was Donavon Cordell. Although only a first-year, he was an amazing flyer, and reminded Draco of Harry in his first year. The position of Seeker suited Donavon much more than himself, but he had assigned him as a Chaser. Quidditch had lost most of its appeal to Draco and the only reason he still played was to annoy Potter.

Draco had wanted to prove himself better than Potter from the moment he had rejected his outstretched hand in their first year, on the train coming in from London. Draco extended his hand to few as a rule, and had never been able to forgive him for that, hence wanting to beat him at Quidditch.

Draco followed the Quaffle with his eyes, watching to see which of his players would make the first move. It was Crabbe. Draco watched as Crabbe hit the Bludger hard toward Ron, who was in goal. The Bludger narrowly missed Ron's head. Draco chuckled to himself. Adrian Pucey flew into Ginny, causing her to lose control of her broom. As Harry flew forward to help steady her, Harper hit a Bludger with so much force it hit Ron hard, causing him to fall off his broom towards the ground.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Madam Hooch shouted up at them. "Get down here at once!"

Damn, Draco thought. He had not thought that she could be around. She had saved Ron from his fall and now they might be banned from Quidditch. Oh well. At least the Gryffindors will be banned too.

"I want an explanation. Who gave you permission to play an illegal match?" The silence that followed just made her angrier. "Right. Harry, Draco, as team captains you ought to have known better. Detention, both of you. The rest of you, get out of my sight. Ron, you had better get yourself up to the hospital wing." She stalked off.

"What are you smirking at, Malfoy?" demanded Harry.

"All that blood coming out of Weasley's nose, actually. It was the funniest thing, that Bludger coming for him head-on and Ron just sitting there. You might want to get out of the way next time," said Malfoy.

Ron lunged at Draco, and again, Harry held him back. "You wait, Malfoy," Harry said. "We'll get you back. You know what they say: revenge is a dish best served cold."

Draco ignored him as he made his way back to the changing rooms to get dressed.

**********

Pansy found Ron the next day before breakfast.

"Hey, Ron," she said.

"What do you want? Come to see if there's any lasting damage to my nose?"

"No. We're meant to be designing tickets for the Halloween ball."

"Right, here's an idea. You volunteered for it, so you do it." Ron carried on walking but Pansy ran up next to him.

"Actually, I've already designed it. I need your help producing them, though. It will take hours if it's just me."

"Fine. How about after tea?" he asked grudgingly.

"Sure, you could come over to mine."

"What, so the Slytherins can finish me off? Nice try, Parkinson."

"Okay, where then?"

"The library."

"Oh, that's a little public though, isn't it?"

"Don't want to be seen with a Gryffindor? Don't worry, the feeling's mutual," said Ron spitefully.

"No, that's not what I meant. The library will be fine." Ron walked off without further reply.

After tea, Pansy was already waiting for him when he reached the library. They worked in silence, Ron failing to notice that things took over an hour longer due to Pansy constantly staring over at him instead of getting on with her work.

**********

As the day of the ball was drawing up, the prefects gathered once again in Hermione and Draco's common room to discuss the event.

"We'll have feedback from all of the pairs, please," Hermione said, opening the meeting. "I'll start. Draco and I have come up with a menu of delicate finger foods and drinks, all themed for the occasion." She passed around a provisional menu. "Umm, Ron and Pansy?"

"We've done the tickets," said Ron.

"And Ginny and Ernie?"

"We've contacted a few bands, but we're waiting for responses," Ginny replied.

"Right, moving on from this dance now," Draco interrupted. "Has anyone else anything important to report?" No one replied. "Right, we'll see you all at the dance. Meeting adjourned."

Hermione waited until everyone had left the room before attacking Draco.

"Hey, what's wrong with you? As Heads we're meant to have regular meetings. You can't just keep kicking them out like that."

"Where does it say in the rule book that these meetings have to be lengthy?" asked Draco.

"Actually, in Hogwarts, a History," replied Hermione, very matter-of-factly.

"No, it doesn't."

"How would you know?" she demanded.

"Err, because I've read it." Draco looked at Hermione as though she was a moron, a look that said, 'Duh, of course I've read it!'

"Really? I thought I was the only one."

"Don't be silly. Books were made to be read."

"Yeah? Try hanging out with Harry and Ron. I don't think they've ever picked up a book for leisure in their lives."

"Well, if you must hang out with unsophisticated characters." Hermione giggled. "What's funny?"

"You. I honestly thought I was the only one who had read it. Have you finished the Potions homework?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied, "haven't you?"

"Yes, but...no, never mind."

"What?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," she insisted.

"Yes it does, what were you going to say?"

"How did you answer question fourteen? I don't want to cheat off you or anything, but perhaps if you could point me in the right direction in the library for the text, that would be nice."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said.

"That's okay, no big deal." Hermione tried not to let the disappointment show in her voice.

"It's not that. The text I used isn't in the library--not this one, anyway."

"What text did you use?" she asked him.

"I have some copies of Orestes' original work," said Draco modestly.

"Really? Can I see them?" asked Hermione. She was no stranger to that name. Orestes found uses of many potion ingredients.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. I wouldn't want them getting lost or damaged or anything."

"I'll be very careful, I promise. I'll do anything you want."

"Really?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. Hermione quickly realised what a stupid thing she had just said.

"Within reason," she said, sternly.

"Sing at the ball." Draco had wanted to hear her beautiful soft voice again since he'd last heard it. This was the perfect chance as he couldn't ask her just to sing for him; she'd think him an idiot.

Hermione looked over at him cautiously. If she really wanted something Draco had, was singing such a price to pay?

"Okay," she said, reluctantly, " but I'm only singing one song and I get to choose it!"

"We have a deal," Draco smiled at her.

Are you looking forward to the ball?" she asked.

"Will you dance with me?"

"I guess so." Hermione blushed slightly.

"Then I guess I'm looking forward to it. I'll have the text ready for you tomorrow. Good night, Hermione."

"'Night, Draco."

**********

On the night of the ball, Hermione ran round making sure everything was perfect. This was the first party she had thrown, and she wanted it to be one to remember. When she was sure that everything was ready, she went up to her room to change.

There was no way she was going to sing tonight. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had agreed to it, and at the time she had really wanted those papers from Draco. Now that the papers were out of the picture, Hermione couldn't think what had possessed her to agree to such a thing.

It wasn't the singing she was worried about, for she had been singing since she was a little girl and begging her parents for professional lessons since she could remember. Although they had always seemed so against it, they had eventually agreed to meet her halfway. Hermione had ended up with dancing lessons. Ballet, tap and jazz had been permitted. Her singing, therefore, had remained fairly private. It wasn't the singing she was worried about, it was simply sharing something so private and intimate with practically the whole school. She simply couldn't do it, and would have to find some other way to pay Draco back.

Laid out on her bed was a gorgeous black velvet corset with red tassels and a large, poofy, long dark red skirt covered in black lace. There were also a black and red garter, black silk gloves, and a black thong with red lace. Hermione had never seen an outfit more beautiful in her entire life.

Surely, it wouldn't hurt to try it on. Hermione slowly ran her finger across the material and a wave of pleasure passed through her. She carefully picked up the corset as though it was the most precious thing she'd seen in her life.

After putting it on--it fit perfectly--she went to look in her mirror. The outfit was charmed. She watched as her face changed. Blush swept across her cheeks. Eyeliner, mascara, lipstick--it all continued until her face was perfectly made up with smokey-eyed make-up. Hermione did not recognise herself. She walked out of the room to find Draco staring at her.

"I burn, I pine, I perish..." he whispered softly, without taking his eyes from Hermione.

"What?" asked Hermione, smiling nervously at him.

"You look...you look beautiful. You know, for an annoying know-it-all," he quickly added.

"You don't look too bad yourself. You know, for a self-righteous pig." They grinned at each other.

"Are you ready?"

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

"This sounds serious," said Draco, staring intently at Hermione.

"I'm really sorry, but I can't sing tonight. I just can't. I feel really bad because you've already done your part of the deal and I swear I really was going to hold up my end, but I'm scared." Hermione was now close to tears. "I'm not brave at all and I should never have been put in Gryffindor. I should have been put...I should have been put," she shuddered, "in Hufflepuff!"

To her surprise Draco began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Hufflepuff, my arse," he replied. "It's actually very Slytherin of you to get what you wanted from me first. Or on the other side, you're definitely intelligent enough to be in Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat chose you to be in Gryffindor for a reason."

"You're not mad at me?" she asked in a small voice.

"As if! Now, a toast." Draco handed her a glass of champagne he'd had sent over from home.

"What are we toasting?"

"You decide," he insisted.

"Okay, a toast to new friendships," she smiled at him.

**********

Harry met Ginny at the entrance of the Gryffindor common room.

"Wow, Ginny, you look...amazing," he told her. She was dressed in a little black dress with a black high-collared cloak and her nails and lips were blood-red. "Shall we?" He held out his arm for her and she took it.

Reaching the Great Hall, Ginny could feel people's eyes on her and she loved it. Ron made his way over to Harry and Ginny when they came in.

"Have you seen Hermione yet?" he asked them. They shook their heads.

Hermione was still in her common room with Draco.

"Before we go in there, I have one other thing for you to wear." Draco spun her round and tied a black choker round her neck with a large emerald green stone in the centre. She looked perfect.

They made their way in silence to the Great Hall. Ginny and Ernie had managed to secure the Weird Sisters to come and play, and the Hall looked beautifully decorated.

Ron ran up to Hermione as soon as he saw her enter.

"Wow, where did you get that costume from? It looks great!"

"Weasley, do you mind? We're trying to have a conversation here," sneered Draco.

"Actually, I do mind. Hermione said she'd dance with me," Ron replied, sounding triumphant.

"Well, Hermione said she'd dance with me. We did come together," added Draco.

"Hello! I'm right here," said Hermione. "Don't you two know that's rude?"

"Which one of us are you dancing with Hermione?" demanded Ron. Both boys stared at her as though her answer would determine who was better.

"Neither!" she snapped. "Grow up, the pair of you." She made her way down to where Neville was standing to ask him to dance, leaving Ron and Draco standing together.

"She wanted to choose me," insisted Draco, "only she pitied you and didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Either that or she wanted to choose me but didn't want to cause friction between you and her as you have to work together. Besides, Hermione told me she wanted to go with me and was only going with you because Dumbledore made her."

Draco stalked off for a fag outside. Sitting beside a stone wall so he wouldn't be seen. Was Ron telling the truth? So what if he was? There was something about Hermione that Draco didn't get. Why was she different from all the other girls? What made her so special? He'd always imagined he would fall in love with a nice, pure-blooded woman when he was perhaps twenty-five--or was that still too young to settle down with only one woman for the rest of his life? That wasn't important. What was important was that she would be beautiful, with blonde, straight hair. Not bushy brown hair. And she wouldn't answer back when she was spoken to, or have male friends. Wait, am I saying that I love Hermione?

Draco wanted to laugh it off but he couldn't. Maybe he didn't want to marry that perfect woman, after all, the way he described her made him sound like his father. There was only one way to find out. He was going to have to talk to Hermione.

Hermione was sitting down talking with Ginny when Draco went back inside. There was no time for hesitation. He walked up to Hermione, appearing calm and collected on the outside while on the inside he thought he might throw up.

"May I have this dance?" he asked her, his hand outstretched. Hermione placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.

"I'm sorry before. It was extremely rude of me to talk about you while you were there," he began.

"That's okay. Ron should have known better as well. Have you tried the punch? I'm not sure where you ordered it from, but it is really lovely."

"I didn't order it. The house-elves made it. Can I ask you something?"

"Go on," she prompted.

"What's going on between us?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Well, we get along great, don't we?" he began. "I'd really like to get to know you better."

"Where's this coming from? You've spent six years being nothing but horrible to me and all of a sudden you want to get to know me?"

"Look, just forget I said anything," he said wearily.

They sat in danced for a little while in silence.

"I better get back out there. I did promise Ron a dance and he'll be looking for me."

"Who cares about him?"

"I do," Hermione insisted.

"So, you're going to disappear off with that idiot and leave me, are you?"

Hermione leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"That sounds about right," she said. "Look, they're my friends. I want to spend time with them."

"Well, I don't want you to."

"Who are you to try and tell me what I can and can't do? Draco, don't pout."

"I'm not pouting. Just piss off then."

"Don't speak to me like that."

"Piss off! I don't care what you do."

"Fine then." Hermione gulped down the rest of her drink and left him.

As Draco stormed outside, Hermione had herself another couple of punches before she was found by Ron.

Ron had been preparing all evening for this moment. Harry and the other boys in the Gryffindor tower had all been giving him tips.

"Would you...would you...dance?" he said. All the preparation had obviously gone to waste for he was as nervous as ever.

"What, Ron?" asked Hermione.

"You want to dance?"

"Sure." She left the drinks table and made her way to the centre with Ron.

"Hermione, can we talk?" Ron asked her.

"Sure, Ron, what's up?"

"Well, we've been friends for a long time."

"This is our seventh year," she smiled up at him.

"I like you, Hermione."

"I like you too, Ron."

"No, I really like you."

"Oh."

"It's just, I think you're amazing, I really do. You're funny, smart, and so beautiful. Do you think that maybe we could try being together? I know I can make you happy. Hermione, you know I love you right?" Ron told her. Okay, so it hadn't come out quite as he'd planned, but at least he'd remembered to complement her.

Hermione blushed. All of a sudden, she found Ron endearing. Maybe it was his new dress robes, maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the familiarity he provided, but all of a sudden he looked quite handsome. She leaned up and they kissed, a lovely, tender kiss.

Draco watched from afar, thoroughly pissed off. He stormed up to his room and began to get drunk.

He wasn't the only one watching Hermione. All the guys were sneaking looks at her, even Harry, much to Ginny's annoyance.

At the end of the evening, when the party was over, Ron walked Hermione up to her common room and kissed her goodnight.

"I can't believe we're finally together," he told her. "I promise, Hermione, I'll never let you down."

Hermione said goodnight, and then walked in to find Draco sitting in the chair smoking a cigarette.

"I hate you," Draco spat at her from across the room.

"Should I take that seriously? I thought you didn't care."

"I told you how I felt, and you still ran off with that freckly ponce."

"Don't call him that."

"It's true. Want a drink?"

"Malfoy, why are you causing so much hate? Do you just like making people unhappy?"

"If making people happy is running around doing good deeds for everybody else, then give me unhappy any day."

"Don't you ever get lonely? Always making sarcastic comments and never letting anybody in?"

"Fuck off, you stupid bint. You don't know a thing about me."

There was silence. Hermione was racking her brain for a way of getting him to open up. She didn't know why getting him to open up was so important, but it was.

"Want to play a game? It involves your precious alcohol," Hermione asked him.

"I'm listening."

"It's called 'I never.' We each take it in turns to say a sentence beginning with 'I never,' and if the sentence is a lie, for either person, that person has to take a shot."

"You first," he dared her.

"I've never owned my own broomstick," she said. Draco stared at her, and then downed a shot of whiskey.

"I've never kissed a guy," he said. Hermione took a shot.

"I've never had sex," said Hermione. She waited expectedly for Draco to take a shot but he didn't.

"I've never spent more than three hours with a Weasley," spat Draco. Hermione downed a shot.

"I've never personally known a Death Eater," retorted Hermione. Draco angrily downed a shot.

"I've never needed anyone's help," he said. Hermione downed a shot.

"I've never been used," came her reply. Draco downed a shot.

"I've never had anyone punish me with Dark, forbidden curses," he shouted at her, now very drunk. Hermione just stared at him. Draco finally downed a shot.

"I've never smoked a cigarette," she said, watching Draco have another drink.

"I've never used Dark magic," he said, taking another shot and stubbing out his cigarette.

"Draco, maybe we should stop now." Hermione tried to stand up but she was very drunk.

"No, Hermione. You wanted to know more about me. I've never attacked anyone." He took another shot. "I've never trained with dangerous weapons." Draco took a shot, and so did Hermione, to his surprise. "And...and I've never had anybody love me."

Draco picked up his shot glass and threw it onto the floor with such force it shattered. The small glistening pieces of crystal lay still. The only sound that was heard was Draco's heavy breathing as he stared at the floor. His chest heaved up and down and he had never looked so alone to Hermione, never so vulnerable.

She reached out gently and placed her fingers on his arm. With much reluctance, Draco tore his eyes from the broken pieces and looked up at her, painlessly calmed by her touch.

"Liar," she said. They stared at each other, not daring to breathe for what seemed like a century.

"Dance with me," he finally whispered to her.

"Here? But there's no..."

Draco cut her off by gently throwing his wand into the air, and he softly said, "Baile." The room suddenly became dark, and his wand shone a bright spotlight onto the two, as he took her hand and began to dance.

As if from nowhere, there was music. The two danced without taking their eyes from one another. They did not blink; they simply stared into each other's eyes with blind passion.

Eventually, Draco tipped Hermione backwards. If it was at all possible, the intensity between them grew, causing Hermione to finally press her mouth against his. They held onto each other, kissing angrily as though their lives depended on it. Draco picked her up and carried her to his room, still kissing her. They lay down on the bed frantically ripping off each other's clothes.

"Are you sure?" he mumbled to her. "Is this what you want?"

"I want you."

They were now down to just boxers and a thong. Those soon came off, and Draco entered her. Hermione winced a little with pain, but Draco was gentle. He kept asking her if it was okay, and telling her how much he loved her. When he came, he snuggled up to her and they fell asleep, though not before Hermione told him that she thought she loved him too.