After the adrenalin rush of the flight from Privet Drive across London to Grimmauld Place, Harry couldn't sleep. Well, it was the adrenaline but also everyone's refusal to tell him what is going on with Voldemort. Harry knew that the adults were trying to protect him, but didn't they realize that Voldemort wasn't going to wait for Harry to grow up before trying to kill him?

"SNARGHHHHH! Cor…. mmmmm…Buttons…spooooon…." Ron murmured in his sleep.

And now Ron's snoring and sleep-mumbles just added to Harry's frustration. Ron was…. is…. was…. IS Harry's best mate. But as bad as the Dursley's can be, Harry looks forward to the summer for one reason alone. He enjoyed having his own space that did not include one or more flatulating, messy, snoring boys. And as soon as Harry arrives at his godfather's house, he is yet again forced to share with Ron. It wasn't like anyone (Mrs. Weasley) asked if he wanted to, let alone minded, sharing a room.

Rolling over so he was now facing Ron's bed, Harry was tempted to fire the rubber band he was playing with at Ron. Doing that would be the closest thing Harry could get to a stinging hex. Besides, for some reason firing a rubber band gave Harry a cathartic fission of glee. With the rubber band missile doing nothing to jolt Ron awake enough so he would shift and stop snoring, Harry ripped his blankets off his bed and grabbed his pillow. With a sigh of frustration, he turned towards the door and shuffled out of the room with the plan to sleep in the library or parlor. That is if he could find either room.

After trying what felt like a hundred doors and with the clock chiming 1 AM, Harry finally found the library. What Harry was not expecting to find, at least on this night, was Hermione camped out in the back in front of the fireplace with her own pillow and blankets.

"Um…Hi." Harry mumbled once Hermione looked up from her book. The look she shot at him once she did look up was a mix between "what now" and "please don't be mad." An interesting combination for an expression, but one that Hermione had perfected into an art form over their four-plus years of friendship. A sheepish grin and shrug of the shoulders, Harry's reply was a "sorry" and "not much." With a heavy sigh, eye roll, and shiver, Hermione told him he was forgive, he was just being a boy after all, and to get him and his blankets over here since she was cold.

Moving two of the settees together and draping their blankets over them, Harry and Hermione settled down for the long haul…or at least until morning. Harry's pillow was bunched at his back with Hermione's tucked against his side with her leaning into it and him. It was during their first year at Hogwarts that they started having late night rendezvous. The reason they started meeting up late at night wasn't for anything nefarious nor sexual, it was that they just had a few things in common. Beyond both being Muggle raised/born, Harry and Hermione were both light sleepers and major night owls. They would often stay up all night reading and talking about random things.

First year, Hermione didn't really have to worry about noise since all of her dorm-mates were pretty quiet sleepers. She tended to stay up because of being homesick and wrapped up in a good book. The lack of noise changed in second year though when Ginny came to Hogwarts. Apparently all Weasleys, be them by birth or marriage, snored and snored badly.

Harry though had three roommates who did not or could not stay quiet. Ron, being a Weasley, snored. But he also tended to talk in his sleep. Seamus, another snore-er, also recited poetry in his sleep. And it wasn't sweet innocent little nursery rhymes; no, he tended to recite limericks. The dirty the better apparently. The third culprit in "let's not allow Harry to sleep" plot was Dean Thomas. Though he didn't snore, Dean tended to sleep walk. Not so bad, until he would decide to play rugby in his sleep. Apparently, all of the beds and the boys in them were the opposing team that Dean had to tackle. So invariably, at least three nights out of every seven, Harry would end up in the common room reading or talking to Hermione.

Their current positions though, with Harry leaning against the backrest and Hermione leaning against him, occurred for the first time in their first year. It was a couple of fifth year prefects that originally caught them in the compromising situation.

-FLASH-BACK-

A month into their co-all-nighters, Harry and Hermione started talking beyond a meek "Hi" or "Good night." It was about a month after they started talking that the upper years started to find the two curled up on the couches fast asleep. It was the morning after the Troll Incident that Harry and Hermione woke to their most awkward situation.

Hermione was obviously very emotional after Halloween night, what with being nearly killed and running the risk of expulsion for lying to a professor. She knew she was going to have nightmares if she even attempted sleep that night, so Harry agreed to stay awake with her.

Trying as hard as she could, even using all the tricks she knew, Hermione could not concentrate on her book. And in her mind, that was nearly sacrilegious considering the book was Nancy Drew. Seeing that Hermione seemed to be re-reading the same page for ten minutes, Harry suggested an alternative.

"Wait here. I'm going to go grab something from my trunk." Harry whispered as he jogged up to his dormitory. When he returned, harry held a thick book in his hand and had his pillow and blankets balled up in his arms. "Here," he said as he spread his blankets out on the couch in front of the fireplace. "Lay down. I'll read to you and you just picture the story."

"Is that…Robert Jordan? His Wheel series? You read that? Why?" Hermione asked with disbelief and slight derision coloring her voice.

"The first few books are pretty good. It's as he tried to keep the story going that they get bad. Besides, it was either this or Lord of the Rings. And we both know that Lord of the Rings is just too good to even consider falling asleep to." Harry said with mirth in his voice as he started to settle onto the floor next to the couch Hermione was on.

"Okay, but you have to sit up here with me. I'm not going to steal your pillow and blankets while you sit on the floor." Hermione said, trying to sound put upon but not quite able to hide the laughter from her face or voice.

The next morning, the fifth year prefects, Ciaran and Jenifer, found the two first years curled up on the couch. Again, not abnormal, but what caused the prefects to pause was the way the firsties were sleeping. Harry's pillow was on the middle cushion with both Harry and Hermione using it. And half of the blankets covered Hermione while the other half covered Harry. Pausing a moment to take a picture of the absolutely most adorable (blackmail worthy) sight, Ciaran and Jenifer carefully woke Harry and Hermione. From that night/morning on, whenever Harry and Hermione would head down to the commonroom, they made sure to grab their own pillows and blankets. Plus, they would grab the couch cushions from a couple of couches and spread them out as makeshift mattresses. The reading to eachother went from a tactic used when one of them was afraid of nightmares to something they would do everytime they both were awake late at night. It was decided though that Robert Jordan and his Wheel of Time series would be saved for those nights when they hadn't slept well in a while.

-FLASH-FORWARD-

As they settled in on the settees, Hermione accioed the latest Wheel of Time book that they were reading. When it arrived and floated into her open palm, she held it up for Harry to see. Telling him by that action alone, that if was ready and willing, she would start reading. Otherwise they could talk for a little bit.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry said, "You know, not tonight. I think I just want to talk."

"About what?" Hermione asked as she laid the book on the floor with her other things.

"I don't know. I'm just so…so…frustrated. Dumbledore expects me to tell him everything. Yet he refuses to actually look at me let alone talk to me. Sirius is willing to talk to me, but Mrs. Weasley won't let him. Mrs. Weasley keeps trying to be my mom but doesn't seem to realize she is not only smothering me but also making it worse. I don't need a mom; I have one, she died for me. My best mate lied to me and didn't tell me what was going on in our world. And my best friend seems to have forgotten the mobiles we bought just so we could talk during the summer.

"But what is really frustrating me is that all of the wizarding world looks to me like I am their Messiah and kill Tom when he comes back, but refuses to listen when I try to warn them about Riddle. Plus every adult we know seems to refuse to train us so we can protect ourselves." Harry said, his voice rising from a whisper to nearly shouting by the end of his rant.

Rolling over so she was sitting on her knees, Hermione hushed Harry while asking for forgiveness with puppy-dog eyes. "I can't say anything about Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, or Mrs. Weasley. But I can explain about no info from Ron or me when we did write. Apparently in the wizarding world a parent can charm their children so that they can't share 'family' secrets. And since Professor Dumbledore is my in-loco-parentis when I'm here, he can place that charm on me. Plus, any muggle electronics that I brought got taken away," Hermione explained.

"And what do you mean about you having to kill Riddle? I'm not denying it, I'm just trying to clarify it," she questioned with her hands raised to stop Harry from leaving.

"How Riddle acted at The Cemetery," Harry started to explain. "Tom could have let any of his…MorbidMunchers," Hermione giggled at the new name, "try to kill me. HE was the one to insist on a duel. HE is the one that made this all personal. And I am saying that even after everything with my parents and the Dursleys." Harry replied, with a small smile at having made Hermione laugh.

Feeling relieved that he had gotten all of that out and knowing that Hermione could tell now was not the time for more questions, Harry settled back into his pillow. After five minutes of silence passed, just staring into the fireplace, he opened his mouth about to ask Hermione about why she was up when he got interrupted.

"Ok…then…since no one is going to train you, how about we try to figure out our own ways to kill Tom. And the funnier, the better," Hermione said, her eyes lighting up with glee and plots abounding. When Hermione got that look in her eyes, Harry knew the best course of action was to simply sit back and enjoy the show.

"What do you have in mind?" Harry asked with his own gleam matching Hermione's.

Reaching down to where she had gently discarded her books, Hermione grabbed a notebook and pen. "Let's think of different embarrassing or funny or weird ways to kill Moldyshorts. Then we can try to plan out how we would have to go about each method of slaying so we can possibly pull it off," she answered as she snuggled into her pillow and Harry's side.

"You mean like plan his death by pranks?" Harry said as a Cheshire grin spread across his face.

Nodding and arranging the notebook on her knees, Hermione said, "Yeah, exactly. And I've got one…."

(AN: sorry to leave it at a cliffie, but my plan is each method is going to be a chapter. See you next time. And if you have any requests/ideas, please let me know. BTW: reviews, while not necessary, are appreciated.)