All You Need Is Love (Or a Summer Makeover)

Hermione was Head Girl. She'd decided not to go on The Great Horcrux Hunt with Harry and Ron; they'd been a little shocked by her decision, of course, but she'd gotten a makeover while they were all staying at Godric's Hollow, and she really wanted to show it off.

Draco was Head Boy. He'd had a long talk with the Dark Lord about why being a Death Eater wasn't for him, with Snape moderating between the two, and in the end everyone decided it would be best for Draco to continue his education and make up his own mind about which side of the war he would fight on.

The new Headmistress had decided to institute a new policy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: the Head Boy and Head Girl would have their own dormitory, cloistered away from the rest of the school. They'd share a common room and a bathroom, which Professor McGonagall prudently kept well-stocked with contraceptive potions.

Hermione was shocked when she walked into the prefect's compartment on the Hogwarts Express to find Malfoy there with his Head Boy badge pinned to his chest, but she was even more surprised at just how muscular that chest had become. It was clear, even beneath his robes, that Malfoy now had a hard, chiseled bod; that brief period he'd spent on the run before his heart-to-heart with Voldemort had clearly done his body good.

"Malfoy," she said coldly, disguising her instant attraction beneath a convincing veneer of utter loathing.

"Do I know you?" Draco asked, looking her up and down, from her her sexy, chunky black high-heels to her short, short black skirt and rather tight red top, which laced up the sides (and which Hermione, incidentally, was quite busting out of).

"I'm Hermione Granger, of course," she said, flipping her poker-straight, luxe locks over one shoulder.

Draco's jaw dropped. "G-Granger?" he stuttered, his usual cool poise evaporating in the face of this enigmatic beauty. "The Mudblood?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed her hair again, temporarily blinding Headmistress McGonagall, who had just walked into the compartment. "I'm hardly a Mudblood," she said impatiently, "I found out this summer that my parents are actually purebloods who are direct descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw."

"A pureblood?" A tell-tale bulge rose in Draco's trousers, but Hermione didn't notice, because she was too busy staring at Draco's eyes and wondering if they'd always been such an alluring silver. She was glad she was wearing her violet contacts.

"Ahem," Professor McGonagall broke in, glad herself for the prudent provisions awaiting the two in their private bathroom at Hogwarts. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Without thinking, Draco automatically pulled out a chair for Hermione, but quickly shot her a dirty look as he seated himself, which she returned despite the conspicuous (and rather fetching, Draco secretly thought) flush colouring her cheeks.

It took two nights before they were comfortable calling each other "Drakie" and "Mione," and there was some snarking as they grew more familiar with one another, but by the end of the first week they were most decidedly in love, and they were the first couple in a century to graduate Hogwarts betrothed to one another.

Hermione sometimes wondered what had happened to Harry and Ron, but really, they were jerks, anyway.