Tutoring A Dragon

All Bets Are On and A Meeting

Wednesday, Two Days Before the Ball

Hermione rolled over in her magically inflated air mattress. Yawning, she sat up and looked at the sea of mattresses that covered the floor of Padma and Ron's Common Room floor.

She rose, and tiptoed her way to the bathroom. On her way to the staircase, she heard a "Psst" and jumped. Turning, she saw Ron's head poking through the portrait hole.

"What are you doing, Ronald?" she hissed back at him.

He blushed, and looked behind her. "I was wondering if there's a chance of me getting to my room before eight o'clock tonight," he said loudly, then beckoned her closer. "Look, the laddies have a bet that you gals talked all night of your relationships. Now, I've bet fifty Galleons that you just watched those Muggle movies. What'd you do? Cause, it's actually not too late to change my bet, and I haven't fifty Galleons." He saw her contemplating face. "Please tell me 'Mione. I've nothing to give to the winners if I lose."

Hermione sighed. "We just watched some DVD's and cried, Ron. I hope you win your bet, now go away." She slammed the portrait closed in his thankful face.

She pushed Padma's curtain aside, and climbed the carved staircase, feeling the etchings on the rail.

Hermione went into Padma's room, and opened the bathroom door.

Turning on the shower, she sighed as the warn water cascaded down her head. "Ah... joy," she murmured.

~*~

Ron rushed back into Ernie's Common Room, flushed.

"Harry, mate, I'm going to have to borrow the Firebolt. It's impossible for me to get into my rooms without flying onto the balcony."

"Sure, Ron," said Harry. Then, he smacked his forehead. "You can't! We have Quidditch practice in half an hour!"

"But, who'll get my clothes for me?" asked Ron.

"I'll get 'em," said Draco. "I've nothing to do. So, how do I get into your rooms, eh?"

~*~

Five minutes later, Draco touched down onto Ron's balcony. He went into Ron's rooms and packed a duffel bag of clothes for Ron.

Walking past the bathroom door, he heard the shower running. Deciding he'd see who it was, he stuck his head through the door.

And saw Hermione stepping out of the shower.

~*~

As Hermione got out of the shower, she heard an intake of breath coming from Ron's room. She turned and saw Draco, standing there, mouth agape staring.

So, she did the only thing she could think of. She screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!"

~*~

Luckily, Draco hadn't seen anything. Or much, as he admitted under further interrogation.

'Interrogation' is defined in this instance as, 'the girls heard Hermione scream, ran up the stairs, and tied Draco to a chair while they lit their branding, a.k.a. curling irons.'

"I can't believe that you thought, 'Hmm, the water in the shower's running. Think I'll take a peek to see who's in there,'" said Hermione, seething. She had a towel wrapped around her body and was pacing back and forth as the girls curled Draco's hair to 'see what it looked like,' according to them.

"Look, Hermione, I honestly had no idea that you were in there!" protested Draco. "If I had, I wouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. AND WOULD YOU GET YOUR BLOODY CURLING IRONS AWAY FROM MY FREAKING HEAD!!!!!" he yelled at the women behind him, twisting to see their giggling forms.

Hermione stifled a laugh. "All right, Malfoy, I'll believe--or at least try-- you. But, never look into a strange person-" But the laughs broke through.

~*~

Draco climbed through the guy's current hide-out, his hair as Gerber baby curly mess.

"Whoa, Draco, who shoved you through the doll machine?" yelled out Dean Thomas.

Draco flipped him off. "Up yours, Thomas!" he yelled to the youth across the room.

"So, what happened?" asked Harry, from a couch. "Why were you gone so long?"

"Well...." said Draco, and proceeded to tell them the abridged version of what had transpired.

~*~

Hermione stood in front of the griffin that marked Prof. Dumbledore's office. Everyone else had already gone in, and she was the last--or so she thought--one to get there.

"I can do this," she muttered, making a fist. "I can."

She walked up, said the password and entered the office.

~*~

"You do realize that if you'd seen more than that, Ron and I'd have to kill you," said Harry in a reassuring tone.

"You could try, Potter. You could try," said Draco. "Where is Weasley, anyway?"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, at some Senior Prefect-Oops."

"Oh, bugger!!! I forgot!!" yelped Draco, leaping over the back of the sofa and out the door.

~*~

Draco fell into Dumbledore's office five minutes late.

"Sorry, sir," he panted. "I, erm, uh..."

"Forgot?" suggested Dumbledore wisely. "I myself do that from... time to time, Mr. Malfoy. Please sit down."

Draco flushed, and sat in the last available seat. The one next to Pansy and Ernie, who were holding hands and looking at each other all lovey-dovey.

"So, Messers Malfoy, Boot, MacMillian, and Weasley, and Misses Parkinson, Patil, Bones, and Granger, I have called you here to announce that we--the faculty and I, I mean--have decided to not bond you to your planning partners as dates --or escorts, Ms. Patil--to the Ball. You may, however, decide to go with your partner, but that is entirely your decision."

"Excuse me, Headmaster," said Susan Bones timidly.

"Yes, Ms. Bones?" asked Dumbledore, over his half moon glasses. "What is it?"

"Well, sir, I was wondering who was going to be Head Boy and Girl?" she managed to squeak out.

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "That, my dear, won't be decided until after the ball. Currently, the Senior Prefects are working as a Senate in reference to decisions in their jurisdiction."

"Huh?" asked a very confused Susan.

Dumbledore, though very wise in the future movements of He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named, had no idea what Ms. Bones meant. So, he looked at his favorite Prefect for a translation.

"Susan wants to know what that means in the speech of teenagers," explained Hermione. She looked like she wanted to put a blanket around Dumbledore's shoulders, give him a lollipop and tell him everything was going to be all right.

"Oh. Well," said Dumbledore, "it means, Ms. Bones, that the Senior Prefects are taking the decisions that fall under their authority and are voting on it in a Democratic fashion. Like the Americans, but faster."

"Oh," replied Susan, blushing.

"Well!" said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together. "This concludes our last meeting before the Halloween Ball! I hope you all have a nice day tomorrow at Hogsmeade! You all are dismissed."

~*~

"So, um," said Draco, scratching an imaginary itch behind his ear. "D'you still want to go with me? To the ball? Or not?" He was, of course, talking to Hermione, who stopped and looked at him like he had asked her to bear his firstborn.

"What do you think?" she asked sarcastically. "I have every intention of asking Ewan McAlpin to the ball, since we broke up. I hope you have a nice time, though." And, with that, she walked off down the opposite corridor.