Title: Work With Me Baby, Work With Me!
Rating: R
Pairing: DM/HG
Summary: Draco and Hermione must race against time in order to prove a prophecy wrong. If they can't, it will cost them their freedom. But will they really mind?
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Draco, Hermione, and oh yeah, Harry and the rest. The first part of The Slap flashback is from PoA by JK Rowling.
3: Ron Rants
Ron was seething.
"That bloody wanker," he complained. "I think I finally know Malfoy's purpose in life, Harry. And it's to make me miserable."
"And to marry Hermione, apparently," Harry added.
"That's not helpful," Ron grumbled.
Harry scooped up his little daughter. "Goo," the baby said at him.
"Goo to you, too," Harry agreed. "Listen, Ron, Malfoy's not as bad as he used to be. Still a snob, still has ice in his veins, but I think he knows where his interests lie."
Ron smashed his hand into a wall. The baby started, and her lips started trembling. "No, no, no," Harry said frantically, cradling her gently against his shoulder. "Hush, Lily, shh shhh," he whispered, glaring all the while at Ron. "If you make her cry, I'm going to sic Ginny on you!" he added in the same cooing tone.
Ron had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, mate," he mumbled. Lily looked up at him. "Sorry, your little Lilyness," he added.
Lily smiled at him. "Ba ba ba ba!" she said sunnily.
"Didja hear that, Harry? Lily says Malfoy's a bloody wanker. She agrees with me."
"Ron," Harry said warningly.
Ron dropped defeatedly onto the window seat. They had gone back to Harry and Ginny's flat after having tea with Hermione and Malfoy. She had left with him, ostensibly to look things up in the library.
"I never told you this, mate," Ron began slowly.
Harry, his back to Ron, smirked. And now comes the big confession, he thought smugly to himself. "Told me what?"
Ron took a deep breath. "Iwasgonnaskhertomarryme."
"What?! Oh, no, shhh shhhh," Harry whispered frantically as Lily frowned. He gave Ron a level look. "When, exactly, were you planning to do this? On your deathbed, fifty years from now? Oh, by the way, Hermione, I've been in love with you for years and years and I never had the courage to say it, could you possibly marry me before I expire, I always wanted to die in your arms," he said sardonically.
Ron flushed. "I asked her out… last month. We've been. Dating. I suppose," he said finally. "I guess you've always known I loved her."
Harry grinned. "Ron, mate, the whole school knew back then. With the sole exception of Hermione, I suppose."
Ron turned even redder, if that were possible. "Anyway," he went on, "I thought that maybe… well… that she wouldn't… go out with me… if she didn't have feelings for me too…"
"And you were going to ask her to marry her. Yes, we know." Harry made a face. "I mean honestly, Ron… the number of times you said her name in your sleep… well…"
"What?" Ron's voice was strangled.
"And… well… poor Neville had to cast a silencing charm over his bed. He couldn't take it, sitting next to her in Potions. He was terribly embarrassed."
Ron sulked.
***
Across town, Hermione was sulking too.
Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye as he leafed through a very old genealogy book with Tojours Pur stamped on it in gold letters. She was obviously thinking hard; she was chewing on her lower lip and once in a while she'd shake her head.
"A galleon for your thoughts?" he asked finally.
A wisp of a smile flitted over her lips. "That's so like you, Malfoy. You always did have too much money than you knew what to do with."
He shrugged. And waited. Finally, she spoke. "I'm just. Oh. This is. I mean did you see. Ron."
His lips thinned. "I should've known you were still carrying a torch for the Weasel."
She shook her head. "I don't. Well. It was just so, expected, you see," she said. "Harry and Ginny were together. It seemed like we would always be friends. And being with Ron, well, it just, seemed right I suppose. And I thought that's what everyone… expected," she said again. "But now Dumbledore sets this prophecy before me and, oh I don't know …"
He flipped a page. "I guess you've always done what was expected."
She studied her nails. "There were times when I didn't." A grin flitted across her face. "Remember when I slapped you, back in our third year?"
He scowled. "How could I forget?"
How, indeed could he forget.
* * *
Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first- SMACK!
She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.
"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul- you evil-"
"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back.
"Get off, Ron!"
Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.
"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway into the dungeons.
His breath was coming in short pants; his cheeks were red with rage. He could feel the imprint of her palm against his skin. Her palm… her skin… the shock of it had stunned him speechless.
Draco, in Hogwarts, was the untouchable Prince of Slytherin, the embodiment of Tojours Pur. Rarely had he ever allowed anyone to touch him. He had an aloof air that made people keep their distance. Even the girls- oh yes, they were starting to notice him, even the fourth and fifth years- they wanted him, but he was beyond their reach, their ice prince. But this girl… this mudblood had dared to touch him.
And his blood was rushing, his heart was pounding, his head was spinning with the unexpectedness of it.
He touched his cheek where she had slapped him and stepped into the portrait hole leading into their common room.
* * *
He realized that Hermione was looking at him strangely. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing," he replied shortly. "Are you going to help me out or not?"
She didn't say anything, but reached out and plucked the book from his hands and closed it. Ignoring his look of protest, she said, "What we need is a plan."
"What, no rushing impetuously into our course of action?" Draco wanted to know. "I thought you were a Gryffindor!"
She took quills and parchment out of her bag and began to write. Draco looked over her shoulder. She tried to ignore the way his hair brushed her cheek. "Prophecy solutions," he read. "Number one. There must be other people named Draco scattered around Britain who are destined to marry the sweetheart of his childhood arch-enemy."
His lips twitched.
"I can't think of anything else," she confessed, staring at her fingers, at the table, at the floor, anywhere but the smirking platinum blonde sitting next to her.
"Me neither," he said. "And anyway, you stole my idea."
Silence.
"C'mon, darling. Let's take a walk." He grasped her wrist firmly in his hand and led her away from the table. "I think better when I'm flying, but I don't think you'd go for that, so walking will have to do."
A/N: Hey, thanks for the reviews! I was really sort of just testing the waters to see if anyone would like it. As long as you like it, I'll keep writing it. The next chapters might take a little longer though; these first three were almost completely written up. Any suggestions or plot bunnies are most welcome!