AN #2: I don't own Harry Potter's world and I only write using it for my own development and amusement. However, Caleb Brackner and Danielle Varens are MINE, and I reserve all rights to use them wherever and however I want, which means that no one else has any rights to them. 'Kay. Thanks!
"Well, this is unprecedented."
Hermione broke off the kiss with a groan, not bothering to open her eyes, only hoping the mood wasn't broken.
"Sod off, Malfoy!"
She tugged at the boy's hair again, but, unfortunately, he resisted. Bollocks. Of course her fun would be ruined.... Her eyes finally flickered open to see Caleb's nervous eyes receding from across the circular couch and Draco Malfoy smirking in the doorway.
"Maybe I should go..." the Ravenclaw muttered, tugging awkwardly at his clothes as he stood up.
"No need to rush off on my account," that despicable blond drawled. "I was enjoying the show. I had no idea that our upright, perfect little war hero could be so..." He turned his smirk more specifically on Hermione, who glared back.
He should so die. Painfully.
"Naughty. Honestly, using the common room as a rendezvous.... Tsk, Granger."
Caleb blushed crimson, his eyes glued to the carpet.
Well, he was no help.
Malfoy deliberately crossed his legs, taking up more space in the doorway, blocking the other male's way out. Devilish fire seemed to backlight his visage as he studied his counterpart.
"Too much of a hurry to bother with the bedroom, I suppose. I can't say I entirely understand you, Brackner, but desperate times and all...."
Hermione finally accepted that her itch was not going to get scratched that night and sat upright, curling against the side of the couch. All the better to glare with.
Three words: Hell hath no.
She smiled sweetly at Malfoy.
"Just because I prefer an actual person to Mayfair is no reason to be upset, Malfoy," she all but purred. "No offense. I know how attached you are to your hand."
Silence reigned for a few long moments.
"Err... Essuseme?"
Malfoy didn't even look at the boy as he strode into the room, moving towards his own dormitory.
"Don't let me catch you in here again, Brackner. I will give you a detention."
The two doors clicked shut within moments of each other, a gunshot and its echo.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest with a loud sigh.
There went that relationship.
~*~
Draco stomped straight through his room to his shower, grateful, once again, that though he and Granger had to share a common room, that they had separate bathrooms. It would be very embarrassing indeed if she suspected that he was taking a cold shower on her behalf.
It was just that he hadn't expected to come across her like... that. With a guy. Brackner, of all guys, but still a guy, moaning passionately with her hair a mess as his hands worked through it. And she hadn't been passive in the situation at all - she had been nipping at the Ravenclaw, running her hands over him, in charge despite her bottom position.
Draco shivered as the water ran over him, leaning against the cool cream marble while he thought.
He'd been delighted when he'd learned that the remaining seventh years would get separate suites with their own rooms due to the large influx of transfer students. He had looked forward to having his own space to shelter in, away from everyone else.
Of course, his perspective had changed when he'd learned that the suite mate he'd been randomly assigned was Granger. He almost wished that he'd drawn a Slytherin.
But they were now a few weeks into the semester, and after the initial snarls and a small incident where she'd come across one of his copies of Mayfair, the cohabitation had been going surprisingly well. The war seemed to have matured her, and rather than sniping at each other at every opportunity, the two merely glared. They said as little as possible to each other, ignoring one another as she sat curled up on her strange, round couch and he sat poised on the edge of his leather swivel chair, before stamping off to their respective rooms.
It had been far too good to last.
~*~
"Hermione!"
She turned and waited for him, grinning as he panted a little when he caught up with her.
"Caleb! What's up?"
The tall brunet blushed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his khakis, folding his shoulders in on himself.
"I just wanted to apologize..." he mumbled, his gaze caressing the floor.
Hermione's smile vanished.
"I just kinda freaked out, ya know?" His brown eyes briefly brushed hers. "I mean, he's a prefect, and it's his common room, too, and he c-could give me a detention if he wanted to, and he's kinda intimidating anyways, an' I just don't want you to be mad at me, ya know?"
"Oh...."
A pack of sixth-years made their way past them to the Great Hall, talking over each other about their post-breakfast plans. Only one boy among them followed along, listening quietyly. It was he who drew Hermione's eyes. He probably had a backbone.
She brought her attention back to her friend.
"So, what are you apologizing for again?" she asked.
His blush spread. Huh. She had thought that only Ron could turn his throat that color.
"Nevermind," he ran together the words, turning away as he said them. "Seeyalater."
Hermione didn't stop him from walking off.
She had more important things to do.
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