Something in the Air

Sasha returned to the Slytherin common room, not even stopping to say hello to Pansy Parkinson, who was not only in-lust-to-the-point-of-stalking with Draco, but had quite recently begun to play the you're-his-girlfriend-so-maybe-you'll-put-in-a-good-word-with-the-total-hottie role, and constantly tried to strike up obviously-pre-planned conversation with Sasha.

Sasha strode right up the stairs to Draco's private prefect's bedroom, a huge perk of him being a prefect this year. It allowed privacy, provided an obvious place for Sasha to be found in emergencies, and so forth. She knocked on the weird-kind-of-ugly mahogany door, which was not only out of style, but was very out of place in the not-so-lavish Slytherin House.

The door creaked open to reveal Draco half-dressed in only his green silk boxers. Sasha cracked a smile at the sight of them, since the last time she'd seen those very boxers was on Harry's skinny, kind-of-tan body.

Draco smiled back, relieved to see her returning to him unscathed by Professor Vector, who was known for being kind of a pervert to the elder girls during detentions.

"Glad you're back," he sighed. "That was a long detention."

"Yeah..." Sasha said, wanting very badly to get off the topic to avoid having to lie, because she was kind of tipsy and wasn't ready to be creative and make something complex and extremely plausible up. "Massage time."

"Alright," Draco said, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips in a way that suggested that he wasn't about to lay hands on Sasha, but about to eat a ridiculously delicious prime cut of beef. Which, in a vague, metaphorical way, could be related to what he was actually about to do.

Sasha whipped off her shirt, and lay on her stomach on Draco's weirdly comfortable king-size bed. The silk pillowcases felt good against her cheek, and she was only very distantly aware of Draco straddling himself over her lower back, and beginning to knead his fingers over her only-slightly-knotted back.

Very suddenly and expertly, Sasha flipped over on her stomach, managing to maneuver it without damaging Draco's-erm-'package'. She kicked off her sneakers, and heard them fall to the dark hardwood floor.

Draco looked surprised, and kind of petrified, like he'd been bracing himself for serious manhood pain. Then he relaxed so much, it looked as if he'd been force-fed an entire bottle of Xanex.

Sasha giggled, not because she felt awkward, but because she thought it was absolutely hysterical to see Draco get uptight.

"Baby," she said. "I wanna tell you something I think you'll laugh at."
"Kay," Draco said through a smile. "I'll probably laugh even if it's not funny."

"When we first met, back in first year," Sasha began, "I thought you were really weird. Then, I kind of ignored you in second year. But in third year, I swear to God, I was sure you were gay."

"I thought you were a mofo bitch for like the first four years I knew you," Draco confessed. "Actually, just a bitch in general."

"Then, fifth year, and I kind of realized that a gay guy wouldn't make out with four girls at the same time," Sasha said blatantly.

"Yeah," Draco said. "I put all opinions aside when I actually noticed how damn hot you are."
Sasha laughed and kissed him. She was so comfortable with him, ironically. She'd thought, when she met him at age eleven, that the only place she'd be comfortable with him was in an Alternate Universe. Or maybe just shopping for handbags, even though that opinion came into play third year.

He kissed her back, and, yet again, Sasha melted into comfort-zone. Before she could stop herself, her pants...slipped off. Damn things were always too big.

Within the next forty-five seconds, she was stripped down to her bare beautiful skin, as was her to-die-for-gorgeous boyfriend.

So much for a massage.

***

Harry walked into the common room, holding the knot on his towel carefully. Hermione was sitting in an armchair, reading. The second the portrait hole snapped shut; she looked up, saw him, and smiled.

"That was a long bath," Hermione said, feigning suspiciousness. She got up and came to him, and kissed him.

Harry was struck with panic, knowing for a fact that his breath smelled like alcohol. He tried to relax, and kissed her back nervously.

"Harry..." Hermione said, frowning. "Have you been drinking?"

"No..." Harry lied.

Hermione smiled like a mother would if she knew her four-year-old child was telling a stupid lie.

"I love how you think you're fooling people when they can see right through you," Hermione laughed.

"I was drinking in the bathroom..." Harry began to tell the newer-safer version of the truth. "Because I felt really tense and was having trouble relaxing. And my tooth hurt, so I drank a vodka tonic."
"Okay," Hermione said. "If you went somewhere else, you don't have to lie."
Actually I do, Harry thought to himself. Because I went with Sasha Borgen.

"I know," Harry said. "I was in the bath the whole time," he assured her, and kissed her again, hoping to distract her. He hurried past her to the dormitory stairs, and almost slipped on a stone step.

Hermione giggled behind him, and he glared at her. She slapped a hand over her mouth, still giggling. Harry smiled at her, and continued slowly up the stairs, closing the door quietly behind him. He worked his way through Collin Creevey & Co.'s room, which was oddly neat and well-kept. He just didn't understand why a fifteen year old group of boys would ever waste time cleaning their room. He climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor, his, Dean, Ron and Seamus' room.

He tip-toed through the sea of underwear, shirts, ties, robes and other assorted items of clothing to his bed. There, he threw open his trunk and dug through it until he found a clean pair of boxers, a tee shirt and a pair of plaid, flannel pants that Hermione had bought him for Christmas. They were about three inches too long, which he loved about them. He walked back down to the common room, where Hermione was stretched out on the couch, seemingly waiting for him.

He went over to her, and kissed her. Hermione pulled him down on top of her, and before he knew it, he was laying on the couch with Hermione on top of him, about a half a level away from sex.

Inadvertently, he wondered what Sasha was doing at that very moment....

***

Coincidentally, Sasha and Draco were lying in bed, both of them wearing only their gorgeous flesh. After God-knows-how-long of moaning and groping and Draco once shouting "64!!!!", all Sasha wanted was to get her book and read for six hours until Draco woke up.

Unfortunately, she was having trouble working up the motivation to move. She was comfortable where she was, it was three am, and she had classes in four hours.

"Fuck," she said, a little too loud. Draco groaned and shook his head, but, miraculously, didn't wake up.

Finally, she got motivation to move from the bed, and went to the dresser where she'd stashed a bunch of necessary things, without, apparently, Draco noticing, because he hadn't yet mentioned anything to her. She pulled out a silver string from the package she'd put in, and, as it had in the Room of Requirement a month before, fell off, and, again, she felt much more relaxed.

Sasha grabbed her underwear from the pile at the foot of the bed, and slipped into them, and dressed in everything except her sweatpants and sneakers. This done, she crawled back into bed, and rested her head on the crook of Draco's neck.

Of course when she was being careful to not wake him up, it didn't work. He opened one slate-colored eye and glanced sidelong at her, smiling all the while.

"Good morning, Sleepy," Sasha whispered into his ear. Draco squeezed his eyes shut and laughed through his nose.

"You're up awfully early," Draco observed groggily.

"I wasn't ever asleep," Sasha replied. "Whadda ya say we skip classes?"

"Sounds like a plan," Draco answered, and sat up, and turned his back to her, picking up his underwear from the other side of the bed, and putting them on.

"No tests today, right?"

"Who cares?" Draco said.

Sasha shrugged and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Usually she wasn't overly loose with skipping class; since she wanted her education to take her somewhere after Hogwarts that may possibly distract her parents from sending her into Young Death Eaters' Camp or however the hell that worked.

"What're you doing tonight?" Sasha asked him.

"Um...first I have nothing, then nothing, and after that...I'm free all night," Draco said.

"Let's go clubbing," Sasha said, as if that would end world hunger, solve third-world poverty, make Hermione Granger gorgeous, the list goes on.

"I say bar-hopping," Draco said perversely.

"It's the same thing," Sasha reasoned with him.

"No, it's really not," Draco corrected her, sitting up in bed, pulling her with him. "Clubbing is going to clubs and dancing forever. Bar-hopping is going to different bars and drinking until you don't remember your name."
"Draco, no, you can't drink that much. You remember what happened last time?"

"If I drank that much, I obviously won't remember that entire week let alone what happened on that one night."

"Well, you passed out at a bar and kept screaming 'Snakes will eat you all unless you pay homage to the Karma Chameleon.' It was embarrassing, baby," Sasha recalled painfully. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed angrily, like a child denied candy.

"I challenge you," he growled. "We both drink the same amount, and whoever starts screaming nonsense first has to shag a Gryffindor."

"That one's easy," Sasha muttered. "Start looking through the Gryffindor girls, baby."

"Oh," Draco said accusatorily, jabbing his index finger in her direction. "Oh no you don't. You're trying to psyche me out. WELL IT'S NOT GONNA WORK THIS TIME, GORGEOUS!"

"Draco, honey, you're talking to the mirror," Sasha pointed out.

"Oh," Draco said, and turned to her. "WELL..." he began again, but Sasha gestured for him to stop.

"I get the point," Sasha said. "I have to go see who else is staying here today."

"Why? Have you and Pansy started some kind of sorority?" Draco asked.

"There's always been a sorority for fifth-to-seventh years," Sasha said. "You could start a fraternity if you wanted to."

"I don't want some stupid dickheads coming up with initiation processes and all that shit," Draco spat.

"Fine," Sasha said. "Just don't make fun of the Slytherin Sorority, then."
"Alright," Draco said. "Don't forget our challenge."

"Let's shake on it," Sasha suggested, and held out her hand. Draco took it, but quickly pulled her to him and kissed her.

"It's a deal," she said when he let her go.

"You're on, Sexy," Draco replied.

"Draco," Sasha said. "You're talking to the mirror again."

***

Harry opened his eyes and looked around at the inside of his bed. He honestly didn't remember coming upstairs. He couldn't remember leaving the common room, actually. But then he rolled over to get his glasses and knew why he'd come up.

Hermione lay next to him, wearing only her bra and underwear. She was cushioning her head on her hands, and looked innocent and angelic. Harry brushed a strand of curly chestnut hair out of her face, and then poked his head out from the curtains enclosing his four-poster. Ron's bed curtains were still pulled shut, as were Dean's, but Seamus' were open, and he was sitting in bed, reading a book for Astronomy.

"Damn," Harry muttered to himself. He tried to think of ways to get Hermione out of the dorm without looking suspicious, but could think of nothing. He made sure all the curtains were shut completely and then pulled his wand out from under his pillow.

"Silencio," he whispered, making his bed sound-proof. He poked Hermione in the shoulder to wake her.

"Hermione," he whispered, jabbing her shoulder with his pointer finger.

"Eh," Hermione groaned, brushing his hand away.

"Wake up," Harry rasped angrily. "I need help."
"You always need help," Hermione replied groggily, deep gray circles under her eyes.

"No," Harry said. "I don't know how to get you out without anyone noticing."

"Invisibility cloak," Hermione mumbled before repositioning to go back to sleep.

"'Mione," Harry pleaded. He reached over her and grabbed his glasses. He then looked at the watch on his bedside table. "Shit."
"What?" Hermione snarled.

"We have classes in twenty-five minutes," Harry said.

Hermione burst to life. "What?" She crept to the end of the bed, snatched the Invisibility cloak, which, oddly enough, had been sitting at the foot of the bed, and wrapped herself in it. Harry heard her feet slapping the hardwood floors, and then the stone steps back down to the common room.

He smirked to himself, and wrapped the blankets tightly around his body. He took off his glasses, and fell back to sleep. It was a good day to just be alone.