A/N: 7/4/11. A lovely reviewer asked why this chapter was written in 1st person as opposed to 3rd. It was due to a massive brainfart on my part. I've edited accordingly. Enjoy.

Chapter Five

There were many plausible reasons for Draco Malfoy to be standing in a dark enclosed space with three young witches.

None of them were good.

Hermione hurried to the Slytherin end of the Great Hall. What had the Founders been thinking? Properly hidden and sufficiently dim, the alcoves were the home to generations of illicit teenage snogfests and alcohol binges. Malfoy would do tradition proud.

"What are you up to?" Hermione asked, hands on her hips. At the sound of her voice, he spun, bright blond hair shining ridiculously in the candlelight.

"You-," he started. The three girls shared a fearful glance. Her suspicions were confirmed.

"I can't believe-" she started.

But the intensity of the rain-coloured gaze he fixed her with froze the words in her throat. His expression was challenging and hard, like a feral animal clawing at its chains. Defensive and unhappy.

"... what's wrong?" she asked. Was it his family? His friends? School? She had no clue. She'd known his name for seven years and shared his bathroom for seven weeks, and still she didn't know him.

Then again, here was the git who ruthlessly taunted and teased her and made her cry. If he could insult her with complete disregard, then it was only fair that she return the blow when he was vulnerable.

She held his gaze steadily, but try as she might, she couldn't muster up the hate to do it.

Opportunity slipped away. Malfoy, who appeared satisfied after his scrutiny, shook off his mood. Just like that, all the tension around them dissipated. The cocky jerk who "accidentally" walked into all her morning showers was back.

"Got sick of blondes, I guess," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Thought I'd diversify."

"What?" She was a little stunned at the sudden change in mood.

"They're too needy. See, I had practice three nights out of the week, but Daphne wanted to shag daily, so I told her we could do it in the locker room-"

"Malfoy!" Hermione flushed.

"-since the showers were right there anyway. Was cramped as hell though-"

Why was he going on about his sex life? And in front of those innocent girls no less!

Hermione looked over his shoulder, and saw that it was already too late. Their eyes had widened to the size of snitches in terror.

"That's enough," she said, and pulled him away from the poor Ravenclaws by the arm. He didn't shrug her off. She made a beeline for the Slytherin table.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and walking into his built form was like hitting a brick wall. Malfoy turned and told the three witches, "For the record, I'm amazing in the sack."

Hermione flushed and kept walking. Most of the students had left the Hall already, with only a couple of zealous Ravenclaws scrambling to eat before the food Vanished, having spent the first half of dinner sharing homework answers.

Malfoy looked relaxed. That was good. Seeing him anxious threw her off. Draco Malfoy wasn't supposed to be vulnerable. He was supposed to be the infallible tower of evil in a sea of uncertainty.

So what was that hesitation back there? Should she ask? What if he laughed at her or got angry? Maybe it wasn't her business.

"Um, you're ok, right?" she finally asked.

He looked down at her, inclining his head. Had he always been so tall?

"Granger, your kindness is frightening. Stop it," he said, shrugging off her grip.

Douche. Try to be nice to a bloke.

The look on my face must've warned him off, because he grabbed his bag and walked away.

"By the way," he said, spinning on his heels, "You left your bra on the towel rack."

At the magic word, the head of every boy within a hundred meter radius snapped up, like dogs catching the scent of meat, and swerved my way.

Douche.

"It's an ex-girlfriend," Blaise said, tossing a Charmed cushion across the room. It launched itself at the portrait on the wall and scared the fat pheasant out of its frame. His spin was a little off. He'd have to fix that with extra drills tomorrow.

Draco settled deeper into the armchair. "No, Pansy and Daphne are the only ones at Hogwarts. Pansy doesn't talk to Ravenclaws-"

"And Greengrass is still hot for you," he finished, catching the cushion as it zoomed back to him. "What's the plan then?"

"Nothing." The culprit was obviously a girl (since real men didn't spread rumours), so he had nothing to worry about.

Blaise yawned. "Yeah, forget about that. You're pretty made this year, anyway." His gaze swept the large lounge with a distinct air of jealousy. "Damn, I should've tried harder in Sixth."

Draco snorted. "No chance. You had McGonagall after your arse the whole year."

"Missy was bloody fit," Blaise said. "How was I supposed to know her great-aunt was the great crone?"

He threw the cushion at the bathroom door, and it bounced off sideways. Because said door opened. And then, Draco didn't give a shit about the cushion anymore because Hermione Granger was walking into the Common Room in a towel. Naked.

He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming.

Only he wasn't. Because if this was a jerk-off fantasy he was having, that towel would not be here. Neither would Blaise and his obnoxious "miracles-do-happen" expression.

Granger turned around and froze at their presence. Her lips parted in shock and his eyes followed a drop of water from her hair as it ran down the slim column of her neck, to the plane of her collarbone, to The Best Place On Earth beneath that towel.

She jumped and ran for her room (which, thank Merlin, was on the other side of this rather large lounge). "Don't look," she squeaked.

Needless to say, Draco kept his baby greys glued to her behind and tried his damn hardest to commit the lovely image to memory. Damn. Were her legs always that nice?

It was a tragic moment when she made it to her door and slipped inside. He stared at it after it closed, hoping desperately that she'd forgotten her knickers in the bathroom and had to go retrieve it without a towel. Unfortunately, it didn't happen.

Blaise closed his mouth. "Tell me you hit that."

Draco said nothing.

"Then she's single?"

"Don't know," he said. She probably was though. Unless she was still dating that poor, overgrown carrot stick.

A great, big shit-eating grin crawled its way onto Blaise' face. Suddenly, Draco wanted nothing more than to punch him in the nose.

"Actually, no. She's taken," he snapped.

"By who?"

"By... Greene."

"The Hufflepuff Chaser?" Zabini asked. Greene was a rather large and hairy fellow who was in a lot of remedial classes. Granger and he had probably exchanged all of three words.

Speak of the devil. The door to Hermione's room opened and she walked out, stiffly, in a white dress, with an expression not out of place on a sacrifice about to be fed to ravenous wolves. Draco willed his hardest for the white dress to burn in a miraculous act of Merlin. He could feel Blaise subtly checking her out.

"Granger, are you dating Greene?" Zabini directed the question at her breasts. The itch to punch him came back.

"W-who?" she asked, sliding over to the couch. She hugged a cushion to her chest. He didn't blame her.

Zabini scooted himself over towards her. An indescribable and completely unfounded panic rose in Draco's chest at their proximity. Almost automatically, he got up and sat between them.

"Your boyfriend, according to him," Blaise said, glaring at Draco.

"My mistake," Draco replied.

Granger looked nervously between the two boys. "So... uh, how come you two aren't at practice?"

"The Yule Ball committee's measuring the field for some bullshit Christmas thing," Draco said. Nevermind that it was barely November. "Speaking of, aren't you supposed to be there, Zabini?"

He snorted. "What's the point? I'm a Seventh Year."

Draco smirked. Zabini was such a sucker. Three... two... one...-

"You're skipping Prefect duty?" Hermione exclaimed.

Score.

Why anyone would mention anything akin to breaking the rules while within a hundred-meter radius of mini-McGonagall Draco would never understand. Zabini realized his mistake a moment too late.

"Uh... what I meant was... I was excused-"

"You get on that field- right. Now," she said through gritted teeth. Draco loved it when Granger got angry. She stood up and marched over to where Zabini sat.

"You can't tell me what to do," Zabini said, abandoning his feinted ignorance. "And wipe that smirk off your face, Malfoy."

He shrugged, and sat back. Zabini was going to get his ass handed to him on a golden plate with Granger written all over it.

"Zabini, you have to set an example! If you don't go, the younger Slytherin prefects will think it's okay to slack too. And you can't just think that being a seventh year gives you reason to slack off! McGonagall can still kick you out. That'll go on your transcript!" she retorted.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm a Zabini. No one's going to look at my transcript."

She stared furiously at him, her jaw working. "How- wha- you can't get through life on your family's prestige and fortune!"

"Yes you can," Zabini and Draco responded simultaneously.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she snapped. Zabini smirked. Git. "I hate lazy, cocky douchebags who skate through life on their parents' work."

The grin slid off Zabini's face.

"I don't mooch off my parents' work," he muttered. "I'll make my own living."

"Oh really," she asked. "What happened to 'I'm a Zabini so no one's going to look at my transcript', hm?"

He scowled. "That..." Draco was holding back snickers by now.

"You never do your duties. Take responsibility," she urged.

"I- he never does his work either!" Zabini said, pointing at Draco.

"Hey, this is all you, mate," the Head Boy returned.

Granger didn't even look at him. "Malfoy is a lazy git whose only ambitions in life are winning the Quidditch Cup and getting laid."

Ouch. But true.

"I thought you were better than him," she said softly. And then a miraculous change swept over her countenance. Her angrily furrowed brows and stiffened posture softened and her face turned vulnerable and almost... pleading. It was mildly disturbing. Even though this had nothing to do with Draco, he wanted to get up and apologize to her for whatever the hell he could think of until she stopped with those giant eyes.

"Blaise," she said in the same even, sad tone. "Are you going to let me down?"

Draco ripped my eyes reluctantly from Granger's glowing face to look at Zabini. He was absolutely wrapped in her charm, and was staring at her like a drowning man would a flask of pumpkin juice. "No-no," he stuttered like an idiot.

She smiled at him and his eyes widened even further. "Then you'll go?"

He shrugged, and tried to look cool. "I guess. There's nothing better to do here anyway." Without a second word, he grabbed his jacket off the couch and walked out the Common Room to do her bidding like a pussywhipped idiot. The portal shut.

What. The. Fuck.

Draco said as much. Hermione shrugged and sat down, with not a vestige of her previous desolation remaining. "When you've been best friends with two boys for seven years, you tend to figure out what works and what doesn't."

That, or Zabini really wanted to get into her knickers.

Draco was not pleased.

A/N: I love this "Visitor Country" option. US is dominating (representtt) with Australia second, out representing UK by a landslide. I guess my Ameribritglish was kinda offensive.