Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author: nacey
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au
Category: Romance, humour
Rating: R
Spoilers: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Timeline: For the sake of my sanity, 806 Never Happened.
Summary: Christmas has hit Hogwarts in Harry's final and seventh year, and it's up to Ron to organize the Christmas Party to beat all Christmas Parties. Harry has no time to help however; he's made Hermione swear off text books for a week and she's made him swear off Quidditch. Ron's life is marred by a schoolboy crush on Fleur Delacour, but he's helped along by the companionship of Lavender and Parvati as they help him out with the party. Hilarity ensues. (I hope).
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: This story I started in December 2002. It is now January 2004. It was a Secret Santa challenge that blew up in my face. To the girl I owe this to (God, I forget who you were), here's your fic. Sorry it's late. :T I hope you don't mind me sharing it with everyone. Here was my challenge:

*a British television celebrity mentioned (I mentioned three, I think…)

*Ron Weasley teasing Draco Malfoy and completely succeeding

*A Christmas present from Hermione's parents to Harry

*Harry and Hermione being trapped somewhere whilst the Christmas party is going on

*Ron going crazy trying to find them, with Fleur Delacour, and both of them arguing with each other over where the two could possibly be

*Fleur teaching a class and having difficulties because of her accent

I want to thank my audience readers, and my beta-readers Anne Urbanski and Lissanne Jones. Without them this fic wouldn't be quite so polished and pretty. Gods bless you both.

~~*~~

Chapter Four

Harry had assumed that the party could not get any more debauched than it had already been, and it was a terrible mistake. After a while a game of spin the bottle broke out, and there were people kissing each other left, right and centre. Eventually the bottle was abandoned, and people just attached themselves to one or two other people and snogged heavily, regardless of sex or appearance. It really was becoming a free-for-all, and the party goers were slowly beginning to pass out.

Not that they knew it, but it was this phase that was the death knell of many a party. No longer was it the loud raucous chit-chat phase. For those with someone to latch onto, it was the time to stagger to some corner and kiss and grope till their lips were sore. The more established couples hung in quiet groups with other couples or the rogue single person (and there were a lot considering they were all only seventeen) and talked about things that seemed utterly deep and significant to them, but in actual fact were quite banal and ridiculous to the sober mind. The music had been turned right down, and the elves were trying to clean as best they could.

Ron had dismissed them and told them to get some sleep and come back in the morning.

Harry had enjoyed most of the night dancing, having the odd nip of whisky and snuggling with Hermione. He talked with Ron, danced with Lavender and Parvati, laughed with his friends. It was the best night he could remember having. Even the Quidditch parties weren't as good as this. Though, it probably had something to do with the fact that he wasn't in a position to put his hands on Hermione at those parties.

It was all a slow descent for him, from anxiety to a strange tingling bravery. Every new thing he did with Hermione - holding her hand, or stroking her shoulder in an unmistakably romantic way - was tinged in fear, but once done bolstered him with a delirious glee. Just placing his hand on her back made his mind reel, wondering what he was doing, and another part of him would thrill in relief and delight, that this is what he should have been doing the whole time. He could see Hermione adjusting too, though she took to it far swifter than he did.

There was one point in the night where she definitely stroked his upper inner thigh, so fast and swift and casually that it looked as though she was dusting fluff off his pants, but the fingers hung around a moment too long, and her eyes met his with a knowing.

At that a sudden dizzy spell took him that made him stop and blink for a moment. Damn, the girl was good.

The party was dying and Harry wasn't so eager to be around so many people now. He yearned to be alone, and he could see that it was a feeling that other people shared. Most were invited to stay at the cottage, and there were a couple of large rooms decked out with beds and fluffy rugs. The cottage was charmed so that a few of the rooms were bigger on the inside, so it could accommodate the huge group of students intent on staying. Of course, not all needed beds. Most were content to pass out right where they were. As a result, students were lying about the place like the awry Christmas garlands.

Ron ambled in from the kitchen, a bottle of alcoholic butterbeer in his hands, and sat down on the couch next to Harry. He offered one to his best friend, who shook his head. He looked to Hermione, who was snuggled against Harry, hugging her now empty whisky bottle and leaning on his shoulder with eyes closed.

"I reckon this party's on its way out..."

There was a roar of laughter from the kitchen, and Harry smirked.

"Well, a few are still going," said Ron with a mirrored smirk. "Dean and the others are drinking on. Cripes, what time is it?"

Harry lifted his hand and wriggled helplessly. Ron grabbed it and pulled up the sleeve, checking Harry's watch.

"Fuck me. Four thirty."

Harry grinned. "It's been a great party, Ron."

"Oh yeah," Ron nodded proudly. "A party to remember."

Lavender came through from the kitchen, bare foot, her soft faerie dress drifting behind her and her faerie wings waving slowly. She smiled at Ron and sunk down onto her knees in front of him, and then waddling on her knees, she parted Ron's legs and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling to his chest. Ron lifted his brows, but smiled anyway.

"Hello, you."

She grinned and looked up at him, glittery eyelids batting.

"Tired?"

"Mmm... sort of." She yawned despite herself, and then leant her head on his chest, seemingly trying to keep her energy up. "I don't want to be."

"Well, it's all right if you are. I think everyone's ready to pass out anyway."

"I don't want to pass out yet," she said with a playful frown. "I want to stay awake till the sun comes up."

"I don't think you'll have to wait long," Ron smirked.

"Hello, Lavender."

Hermione had opened her eyes, and was smiling at the girl against Ron. Lavender was quite delighted to have Hermione talk to her in a friendly way. Hermione was usually distant and quiet, and it always made Lavender feel like Hermione didn't like her. She'd always assumed it was because she wasn't as smart as Hermione.

"Hey," said Lavender, "Have you been having a good time?"

"Quite a splendid time," replied Hermione, still quite drunk. "You throw a good party, a very good party."

"Awww... thank you."

"And the charms are bloody clever. I'm very impressed."

Lavender looked as though Gilderoy Lockhart had told her she had good legs. She visibly swelled with pride and looked bashful all at once.

"Thank you."

Harry smiled at Ron, rather amused to see Hermione being so sweet to the girl in Ron's arms. The fact that it was Lavender in Ron's arms made Harry very pleased. It filled him to burst with happiness; he was so very glad that the young man who had always been as a brother to him had finally found a girl he was himself with, was happy with, was satisfied with.

"So where's Malfoy?"

Both Ron and Harry exchanged puzzled glances, and looked down to Hermione. Harry had to wonder why she'd decided to bring up Malfoy at a time like this. She sighed fitfully.

"You mean you organized a practical joke and then forgot about it?!"

Ron wriggled under Lavender, who moaned.

"Keep still when I'm hugging you," the girl mumbled into his chest.

"I have to get up!" he said. "We have to get this joke done before the professors get up! We've got to do it NOW!"

Lavender untangled herself from Ron's vicinity, looking rather disappointed. Hermione slowly pulled herself up from Harry's lap, not letting go of the bottle, and Harry stretched.

"So where is Malfoy?"

"Fleur said she'd put him in the broom cupboard in the hall for us once he'd passed out," said Ron.

"Well, let's go get him then," said Harry.

Lavender hung back, looking at the Trio with some uncertainty. She watched them walk to the kitchen, and for a moment they seemed happy to walk off without her. At least until Ron stopped and looked about himself. He turned and looked back at her standing by the couch with a baffled expression on his comical face.

"Aren't you coming?"

She shrugged. "It's Secret Harry Potter business isn't it? Mischief making attached to your adventures?" There was a waver in her voice.

Ron strode over to her (as best he could with the amount of alcohol in his system) and took her hand, squeezing it.

"I want you to come with me."

She looked up to him, brows rising a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Come on, cause some trouble with us."

"Yay." She grinned and hugged him, and he smiled broadly, pulling her with him.

~~*~~

Draco Malfoy, the pride of the Malfoy Line and Wizard Purity, the very best dressed student, Head Boy and all-round guy to be seen, was an utter stinking mess. He was an untidy heap at the bottom of the cupboard, drool rolling down his chin and onto his designer cloak, but despite his unkempt appearance he looked very happy to be there. He snored loudly and snuggled a bottle of cleaning bleach.

Hermione winced. "Ew."

"This is going to be the hard part," said Harry.

"Bags not taking his pants off," said Ron.

"Bags not taking his jocks off," countered Harry.

"Oh honestly!" tisked Hermione. "Do you want to pull this joke or don't you?"

"Shhh!" Ron hissed. "You'll wake him up!"

"He won't wake up," said Hermione drolly, and bending over she grabbed Draco's nose in the pincer-like grip of her fingers and waggled it. Draco grumbled, rolled over and curled up with the broom.

Harry couldn't really believe what he was seeing. Malfoy had been served up to them on a platter, and now he was theirs to do with as they pleased. It was practical joker heaven. He made a mental note to organise a nice Christmas present for Fleur.

Lavender tilted her head. "Isn't this vindictive and cruel?"

"No," said Ron. "It's the code of Practical Joke making. You honour those who joked on you by joking back on them in kind or better. We're bettering that joke quite significantly."

"So you're saying he should be honoured by what we're going to do to him?" Hermione said in a sarcastic tone. "That's a new one."

"Oh God, he's grabbing his crotch," Harry said, turning around and huddling to Hermione. She slapped him off and growled.

"Come on. The both of you - Harry, Ron - charm him up now. We're going to move him," said Hermione, finding a little sobriety in purpose.

Harry and Ron exchanged a dry look. It was a look they had exchanged many times. It was the look of two people that had thought up a Wonderful Plan, only to have that Plan hijacked by someone both painfully bossy and utterly brilliant. They both knew that the plan was going to be pulled off beautifully now.

Taking out his wand, Harry stepped out of the closet and into the hall, and both he and Ron used their wands on him.

"Mobilicorpus!"

Draco drifted up into the air, and hung there like a limp doll, his head resting on his chest, a snore lifting from his perfectly pointed nose. His long hair, now out of its neat ponytail, hung in uncharacteristic draggles in his face. Lavender giggled.

"This is so much fun!"

~~*~~

The trip to Hogwarts was a slow one, what with the floating rich boy and the increasing snowfall. It was five o'clock in the morning when they made it, and they had a scant hour before the castle woke up around them. Thankfully, their target location was in the lobby.

"Careful with him, bring him over here!"

Hermione ran to the grand old Hogwarts Hog statue. It was a great bull-sized hog made of deeply tarnished bronze, polished gleaming on its extremities, giving it a look of extreme age. It was a hallowed statue, a well loved statue. It was also a statue that had had a range of disgraceful and naughty things done to it. None had been quite as daring and as shocking as this, and it really was all Hermione's fault. She stood in front of the statue, and folding her arms, she stared at the unconscious body of Malfoy with determination. Malfoy looked rather festive; snow clung the top of his head and shoulders rather prettily.

"Take his clothes off."

Harry and Ron glared at her. She glared back at them.

"Didn't you hear me?" she said.

"We heard you," said Ron, "We just thought you'd gone mad. The day I take that git's clothes off is the day my eyes have been poked out by hungry crows."

"Oh for heaven's sakes!" Hermione growled, jaw dropping a little in disbelief. "This was your big plan! You wanted to do this!"

"We wanted to keep his clothes on!" howled Ron. His voice echoed off the walls of the Entrance Hall.

"SHHHHH! God! Do you want us to be caught?"

"Was your idea to take his clothes off, Hermione," Ron growled. He looked to Harry. "You do it."

"I'm not taking them off," said Harry. "The last thing I want to see is his pasty arse."

"I'll do it!" sighed Lavender, stepping forward and grabbing the pants of Malfoy who was still hanging in thin air. "For pity's sake, it's not like she asked you to disrobe Hagrid!"

"Ew," Ron winced.

"I'd rather disrobe Hagrid than see Malfoy naked," Harry muttered.

Ron stared at Harry as if he'd grown another head. "Think about what you're saying there..."

"I don't relish the idea of either of them naked," said Harry, "But if I had to choose, Hagrid would be it."

"And I'm sure he'd be so flattered," Ron said, shaking his head. "Aww!! Ohh! God, give us some warning, Lav!"

Lavender had yanked down Malfoy's pants, and all he wore underneath were black cotton jocks. They left nothing to the imagination. Lavender lifted a brow, tilting her head.

"My, my. Aren't we the talented one..."

"LAV!"

Lavender smirked and looked back. "Well... if you won't do it..."

Hermione chuckled.

Malfoy's shoes had long gone, and his underpants were yanked off without hesitation.

"Ohhh my my..."

The Malfoy heir wasn't talented to excess, but the eyeful he gave Hermione and Lavender wasn't unappreciated. Off came the waistcoat, the tie, the shirt and the singlet. Lavender was at the task with an almost dominatrix style determination. As she went about it, Malfoy would loll his head back and forth sleepily, the rough treatment shifting him from his deep sleep momentarily.

"No, Mummy, I don't like the pony."

Hermione covered her mouth and giggled helplessly. After Lavender's deft disrobing, Malfoy hung in midair absolutely starkers, as bare as the day he was born. Hermione and Lavender gaped at him, Lavender's mouth curling in an impressed look

"Not bad for a fellow that never sees the sun," cooed Lavender.

Ron glared at her murderously, and she utterly ignored him.

"Well! Let's get this done shall we?"

"Good idea!" Hermione agreed.

Harry was aware of Ron shuffling towards him awkwardly, looking rather conflicted.

"Harry."

"Yes, Ron?"

Ron looked to him with all seriousness. "If we don't help them, then they would have practically pulled this joke off on their own. We couldn't really take the credit."

"Yeah, but if we help out we'll have to look at Malfoy naked," he replied.

Ron glared at him, telling him he knew this full well.

"Look, I've seen Voldemort naked," said Harry, "It can't be as bad as that."

"You saw You-Know-Who naked?" gasped Ron.

Harry nodded at this as if it were nothing special. Ron looked horrified. It then occurred to Harry that he was unaware of the situation that this had happened in. He couldn't believe he was having such a flippant conversation about such a thing, but he was very drunk.

"He was a foetus-thing!" Harry cried in return. "He wasn't even human!"

"Oh..." Ron still looked disturbed. "Let's get on with this, shall we?"

"Right," Harry agreed.

The both of them turned around, jaws set and hands fisted, ready to bear the pain of seeing Malfoy in a state of undress. They were awarded with the sight of Draco Malfoy, already naked, tied to the Hogwarts Hog in quite a compromising position, knees either side of the hog's hind-quarters, his pale arms wrapped lovingly around the porcine's neck. Their jaws dropped, and their eyes fell upon Lavender and Hermione, gazing up at the view, both of them with arms crossed and faces alight with pride.

"A job well done," said Lavender.

"Oh yes," chimed in Hermione. "That was some fancy levitation work there, if I do say so."

"Thank you!"

"Bugger," sighed Ron.

Hermione turned about, and seeing Ron's disappointment, she tisked.

"Well, you two will take your time squabbling. We better get out of here before we're seen."

"They'll know it's us," said Harry. "They'd have to."

"Who cares," said Ron, "It'll be worth the detention!"

"Oh come on!" said Lavender. "You three aren't the only ones that hate Malfoy."

"Oh that's good to hear," said Hermione with a smile. "I was beginning to think that we were odd somehow."

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Sure you are. But not because you think Malfoy's a git."

A knock echoed through the Hall, and all of them tensed and glanced about themselves.

"Right, let's get out of here," said Ron. "Lav and I are going back to the cottage."

"We are?" Lavender blinked.

"Yeah. You two coming?"

Harry looked to Hermione, who had reverted to her old self in the face of remonstration and was wringing her fingers worriedly.

"Aw, no, we're going to relax in the Common Room."

Ron snorted. "Is that what they call it these days? All right - I'm off! Have fun!"

Taking Lavender's hand, Ron traipsed off towards the front door of the school. Lavender looked over her shoulder and waved to Hermione.

"Good night, Hermione!" she said, "I've had so much fun!"

"Me too!" grinned Hermione. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Harry smiled as he watched Hermione wave to Lavender, and took her hand. Hermione watched Ron and Lavender leave, and when the door clunked shut she turned and grinned brightly at Harry.

"What a wonderful evening!"

"There's still some of it left," he said, and tugged on her hand, ushering her quickly from the Hall. Draco Malfoy snorted in his sleep.

~~*~~

The Common Room was empty. Most of the students below seventh year were on holiday, and those in seventh year who stayed for the party were still at said party. It was all very nicely convenient. In fact, Harry was eyeing the couch when Hermione slipped past him and up the spiral staircase to the boys' dorms.

"Hermione, what are you..."

She was gone. He went after her, and he could hear her chuckles echoing off the walls of the stairwell. The door to the seventh year boys' dorms creaked on its hinges. He followed her inside, his heart beating, his mind swimming, trying to make sense of her actions. He entered the dorm, and his heart stilled.

She was standing in the middle of the room, looking about it with a pleased smile, as it was utterly empty. Her brown eyes fell upon his green ones, and her smile grew broad and knowing.

"They're all at the party," she said.

Harry nodded, stepping into the room, closing the dorm door behind him, his heart suddenly in his throat. He was terrified and enflamed all at the same time.

"I- I know." His tongue was useless.

She took her bottom lip in her teeth, and leaning forward, she took his hands in hers and pulled him towards her.

"Is this a good idea?" he babbled, burning under Hermione's intent gaze. "I mean what if someone walks-"

Hermione smothered his lips in hers, and he felt as though he'd been pushed into a bath of hot tingling water. His heart pounded as the clever silky flickering of something at his lip brought up goosebumps all over his body. His mind reeled as he tried to equate the tempting little angel in his arms with his Hermione, the good and well behaved girl. He couldn't quite do it, but only because he knew her better than that.

She slowly pulled away with a satisfied sigh, a smile spreading across her face.

"That's for the kiss on the couch," she said.

He smiled in a lost, bewildered sort of way. "Well... remind me to do that more often then."

She gave him a winning smile and turned away, looking to his bed.

"My, but this does look like a comfortable spot to snuggle in."

Harry felt his neck and cheeks burning. "W- yes- I mean-"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder with an affectionate smirk. She sank onto her knees on it, bouncing on the bed playfully, and in a half-dazed state, Harry walked over and sat down next to her. What was he going to do? What was proper? He'd only just started this - whatever this was. Was she his girlfriend yet? It was all so confusing. He knew under normal circumstances that Hermione would have been a little more coy about it all... perhaps. Maybe she was as tired of pretence as he was. Either way, the girl tugged on the curtains and enclosed the bed. She dug about in her robe and pulled out her wand, and looking about herself, she nodded.

"Very nice. Silencio!"

Harry glanced about and then to Hermione.

She shrugged. "Don't want to be disturbed, do we?"

"What would anyone be disturbing?" he croaked.

Hermione gave a little chuckle, and she pushed Harry down. "You know you're incredibly sweet, Harry. I often wonder, is it deliberate, the cluelessness, or are you genuinely that out to sea with this sort of thing. And now I know."

He gulped, watching Hermione crawl to his side. He would start sweating any moment, he knew it. He wasn't sure if relief or disappointment flooded him when the girl sank down and snuggled to his side.

"Does it... I mean... do you dislike that about me?"

She tutted and gave a little laugh.

"Harry, it's who you are - why would I dislike it?"

She snuggled some more, wriggling, and she laid her hand on his chest. Her fingers edged back and forth in tentative caresses, and she watched them with wonder. They were quiet, and Harry was wrapped up in lying there, feeling Hermione against him in such a way, her leg tangled in his, her hand stroking his chest, her breath in his ear as she nuzzled his shoulder.

"I never thought I'd be with you like this," she said, her voice a breath, wonderment in her very tones. She wrapped an arm around his middle and hugged him tightly. "Oh God I'm so happy I could burst."

He grinned, turning his head and nuzzling her tenderly. "Me too."

She took her lip in her teeth as Harry gazed at the ceiling in a happy daze. The first thing he knew of any mischievous intentions on her part was when warm nimble fingers stole under his jumper and wandered up over his stomach in curious little strokes. Harry's mouth edged open and a sigh left him unbidden.

"Oh my..." He closed his eyes, not wanting to move lest he lose the feeling that was taking him.

"You're so smooth," cooed Hermione in a whisper, pushing up his top, hungry little lips seeking out his slender hips. He moaned a little helplessly, Hermione dragging her nails up and down over his stomach.

"Her-mione..."

She chuckled, straddling him, nails grazing his flesh so lightly, lips finding his jaw and teasing him with utter dedication. He felt like he'd explode any minute. He heard a funny noise, something between a whine and a growl. It wasn't until his brain waded through the tingling and the hot bliss that he realised the sound was coming from his own throat. Okay, he had to fix this, he couldn't be having all the fun.

He slid his hands up her thighs, and he had forgotten that she was wearing a sleek split skirt, so he had to control himself when his hand caressed smooth naked skin. Her thighs were so soft, so sweetly curved. Hermione let slip a sigh, squirming atop of him as his hands cupped her bottom.

"Mmm... Harry..."

He smiled, nuzzling her neck. She arced her head back, mouth opening, eyes closed in bliss. This seemed to make the light clawing of his chest all the more ardent, and it in turn drove him just a little wild. He opened his mouth upon her neck, tongue firming and stroking the lilt in her throat, lips chasing after, teeth grazing ever so lightly. To his delight Hermione clutched his chest, pressing herself against him and moaning loudly.

"Oh my gosh!"

He chuckled, squeezing her bottom firmly in his hands, nibbling her neck hungrily. This seemed to push Hermione beyond words, and she bucked and growled a little. At this, she tore herself away, grabbing his shirt and tugging at it.

"Off," she breathed, "Off."

He gulped, regaining some reason in a rush, and he nodded faintly. Did he want to tumble into this with her without thinking? Did he want their first time to be some kind of half-drunken tussle in a deserted dorm room? Then again, what else did he want? When would be the next time he could touch her like this without fear of being caught?

His thoughts were cut off as his jumper was pulled off roughly over his head. His hair puffed even more than usual, and he propped himself up on his elbows, watching Hermione throw his shirt over her shoulder. She looked back, her eyes falling on his slender and lithely muscled frame, and a soft smile lit her face. Tender, sheepish fingers climbed his skin, and she tilted her head, sighing happily as she flattened her hands upon his stomach, sliding up to his pectorals, grazing his nipples, and then curling over his shoulders.

"You're beautiful, Harry," she said, "You really are."

Harry met her eyes, his own fiery in their green, his mind reeling at her hands upon his skin. He gave her a naked and open smile, the smile of a frightened boy finally able to show someone exactly who he was inside. It rocked him to the core to have her smile back at him, just as open, just as honest, telling him in no uncertain terms that she loved what she saw, loved it and cherished it. Holding his eyes in her own, she moved her hands to the buttons of her blouse, plucking them open one by one. He took a shaking hand and cradled her cheek, and the girl sighed and leant into the touch, eyes closed in pleasure, hands idly pulling open the shirt and shrugging it off her shoulders.

Harry's mouth went dry. He'd never seen Hermione in her underwear before and the sight of her in the light mauve bra had his blood running hot. He struggled to swallow, trying to sit up underneath her. She shifted a little, smiling shyly as he sat upright. His eyes met hers again, his fear open in his green pools. I've never done this before, he said with his very look. Forgive me.

It's okay, her eyes told him. Just touch me, Harry.

He was embarrassed as his hands shook, paused over the curve of her breasts, the wonderful things rising and falling, swelling and receding, with each of her breaths. With a gulp he cupped them, applying pressure experimentally, squeezing them very gently. Hermione's eyes closed, and she gave a naughty grin, pushing herself forward into his hands.

"Yesss," she breathed.

His mind staggered and spun at the sensations flooding him, at the sound of Hermione so ragged and aroused, at the sight of her light brown skin against his own pale flesh, her bosoms sitting so comfortably in his hands. She hung her head back, sighing happily, her hands finding his hips and stroking them. He nearly jumped out of his skin as clever fingers found his erection and caressed it firmly and lovingly. He jack-knifed despite himself, Hermione gasping as he bucked underneath her, gripping the bed in shock.

"I'm sorry!" he panted, "I'm sorry, that was just..." He gulped and clambered for breath. "Sorry."

She covered her mouth, frowning. "Did you not want-"

"No!" He shook his head. "No it's just-" He blushed. "I wasn't expecting it," he babbled in a hot breath, "and it- it felt so good." He wondered why the hell he felt ashamed of himself.

"It's okay, Harry," she whispered. "We can stop if you want... or we can keep going. I don't mind."

He looked to her, clutching the bedsheets in his hands. "I want you," he murmured. "Part of me feels... feels like I shouldn't be doing these things to you... like I'm spoiling you. Like it's my fault you're doing these things."

A flicker of sadness was in her eyes, and she cupped his cheek. She knew why he felt this way, he could see it, and she leant forward, kissing him tenderly.

"You're giving me a gift, Harry," she breathed. "We're sharing something very special. I feel so lucky that it's you I'm exploring this with. I feel safe, and I know it means something to you."

He smiled faintly. "It means everything to me."

Propping herself on her arms, she leant to him, kissing him again, softly, chastely, slowly, falling into a firm and comforting caress. He shuddered as she pushed him back onto the bed, and she shifted her weight from his thighs and settled on his pelvis, wriggling her bottom down on top of him decidedly. Harry's breath hitched, and he knew she had to feel how firm he was, he could feel himself digging into the soft warm space he'd never dared dream of. She cradled his jaw for a moment, regarding him gently, and then she dragged her fingers over his chest. Her other hand curled behind her back and there was a little 'click' in the air. Looking down demurely, she eyed the zipper of her skirt, and quite matter-of-factly, she unzipped it. Then she lifted her hips a touch, unzipped his pants and plucked open the button. He licked his lips.

"Hermione... do you really wanna do this?"

"Yes."

All he could do was respond with a meek and surprised, "...Okay."

That was it. She was firm on the matter and well - so was he. He knew there was no looking back now, and a part of him was relieved for it. She slithered down atop of him, and as she laid herself against him, her bra straps sagging loosely. It was with dull shock that he realised that she'd unclasped the thing and it was free to come off if he wished. One thing at a time, Harry, he thought, or tried to think. It was hard, because Hermione was drifting kisses over his collar bone, slowly and fractionally rocking her hips against him. It was the slow delicious sort of torture that would break weaker men.

He was surprised then to feel a tug at his hips, and she huffed.

"Lift your bottom up."

He did. Wasting no time, Hermione gathered the waistband of his black jockeys and pushed them down with the pants. He worked to kick off his shoes, but they were shiny and they kept slipping and staying put. After a moment Hermione yanked them off and he felt as a naughty child. This didn't last long. She settled against him once more and put his hands on her bottom. It was clear what she wanted him to do, and he was drunk with the reality of the moment. He could feel himself straining at the very thought.

With shaking hands, he pushed her skirt and knickers over the curve of her bottom, the delicate soft light brown skin revealing itself as the slippery fabric fell away. He licked his lips, looking down on her exposed body, the planes and curves more wonderful than he could ever have dreamed. Desire flared up in his eyes, and his hands clung to her skin as he drifted them up her hips and back. His fingers slipped beneath the dangling bra straps, up the rise of her shoulders, and the bra slipped off and onto his chest. Hermione looked down at it, amused, and she plucked it from him and tossed it aside.

Harry gazed at Hermione, utterly dazed and enchanted at the girl above him. She sat astride him, head tilted, comfortably naked as if it were the most natural thing in the world, despite that they'd never done this before. There was a blush in her cheeks, a coyness that crept up on her, and it only enhanced the sight before him. He let the moment seep into his mind, a snapshot to be treasured in his own private photo album that lived inside his heart. Hermione Granger, naked and pleased of it, against him. Against Harry Potter.

His hand reached up for her cheek, and he held it as if she could break. A dent formed in his brow, and he parted uncertain lips. Hermione lifted her brows in askance, and he sighed.

"I can't find the words," he murmured. "I can't tell you this feeling inside of me."

She leant forward, laying herself against him, lips a breath away from his.

"Show me, Harry," she whispered.

So he pressed his lips against hers, enclosing her in his arms, and he did his very best to do just that.

~~*~~

The morning light had no way of creeping over Harry's chest like it always did every morning. The curtains were too firmly shut, and he had the strange sensation of existing without concept of time. It could have been any time of the morning, he simply had no clue. The ceiling was light, so he guessed it was past the wee hours and it was now mid-morning. When he had immediately awoke he wondered if Crookshanks had crept in and fallen asleep on him, for there was a soft tiny snoring and he felt warm from head to toe. It wasn't until he opened his eyes and shifted that he realised that he had a naked Hermione snuggled to his side. His mood lifted into the rafters at that moment, and a long stupid grin spread from one side of his face to the other. He closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms tightly about her, burying his face in her hair. He snoozed for some time after that, just lying there and cherishing every single second of her slumbering atop of him. It became apparent, however, that his left arm was becoming numb, and points in his back and bottom were beginning to hurt from being in the one position for too long. But he did not move. He held her and he cherished it, even though it was becoming quite painful.

Thankfully, Hermione eventually woke. She rolled aside, a long deep waking breath filling her lungs. He watched her as she sat up, looking about herself, long honey-brown locks tumbling about her light-brown shoulders. She was quiet, and he felt fear flare up inside him. Maybe she was just drunk last night, maybe she felt like she'd made the mistake of her life. Despair crept up on him, and it grew ready to devour him.

She looked down at the legs stretched out under the blanket next to her, along his torso, and to his eyes. A bright smile lit up her face, as pale from waking as it was, and she rolled over and flung herself onto him, cuddling him tightly.

"Morning!" she sighed, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Morning," Harry said, a soft smile of wonderment on his face. "You feel okay?"

She chuckled. "A little hungover." She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled at him lazily, a knowing naughty smile. Harry blushed furiously, knowing exactly what she was saying with that devious look. She wriggled up and kissed him firmly. He closed his eyes, smiling dreamily, delighting in the nuzzling of her nose against his cheek. He was so lost in bliss that he mumbled thoughtlessly against her lips.

"Mmph... God, I love you..."

Hermione stopped. A heavy feeling dropped into his belly, and he wondered if he said the wrong thing. Of course, of course, he thought, mentally kicking himself, you never say that so soon, you never say it like that. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was afraid to open them, to see her expression. She'd taken her lips away, and edging open his eyes, he wondered if she was frowning at him angrily for ruining all the fun. But she wasn't angry.

Her eyes were rimmed red, tears welling there, her mouth half-open, and she seemed to be struggling to breathe.

"Hermione?"

She covered her mouth with a hand, gasping softly. "You do?"

A blush raged in his cheeks, and he shrugged, nodding on and off and wanting to die because he knew he'd ruined it all now. "Yeah, I mean -" He stopped and nodded. "Yes."

She gasped again, tears spilling down her face. Now he knew he'd done something wrong, and he moaned.

"I'm sorry - ignore me," he said, "You know I'm always saying stupid things..."

She blinked at him like he was mad and made a panicked laughing sound.

"I'm happy, you silly bugger!" she clucked, trying to contain herself. She wiped at her eyes furiously.

"You are?"

She nodded, still wiping at her tears.

He looked quite lost now. "W- Why are you crying?"

"I don't know!" she said, "I'm happy!"

"Oh..." He frowned, tilting his head to look at her face and make sure she was all right. "...Really?"

"Yes!" She sat up, shaking herself, pulling her hair from her face and taking deep breaths. He sat up too, and feeling helpless, he put his hand on her back, stroking it gently. She pulled away and turned about, meeting his eyes with fear in her own. "I have something to confess."

He blinked, and she continued.

"Well... I sort of... Before this week..." She blushed. "I had feelings. For you."

He frowned. "You did?"

She squirmed. "Well it wasn't - it wasn't like I had a picture of you stuffed under my pillow or anything silly like that! I just - I went for so many years looking out for you and I knew I could lose myself to that so easily. I swore I wasn't going to be like Ginny was, or like other girls are, because I knew you needed more than that and..." She sighed, looking down at herself. "I didn't dare think that I - that I should be the girl that you'd choose. I just never let myself think that way, I assumed that it would always be some other girl far prettier than I, and it was and... oh heavens listen to me!"

A frown took her face and she rubbed her eyes. She looked to him again. "I had this feeling all locked up inside, and it could be everything I wanted if I let it loose, but I never did because I knew that there were other things more important, and I didn't ever want to bother you with them. And then I wake up and you tell me what - what I wanted to hear so badly but never let myself even *think* of!"

Harry's heart melted, slowly and surely, and leaning forward he cradled her face, kissing her deeply. She shuddered against him, hands clutching his shoulders, and pulling gently away, he leant his forehead against hers, touching her nose with his.

"I love you, Hermione," he breathed tenderly. "I love you."

She grinned, tears in her eyes again. "Harry..."

He lifted his brows mischievously and she chuckled.

"Gosh, I love you too, you cheeky sod."

It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever heard her say, and he pulled her down onto the bed with him, kissing her with utter abandon. She squealed, giggling as he drifted kisses over her neck, his hands drifting over light brown skin that was a part of him now. The panic and uncertainty he'd felt over the past week was as distant as another life, and now he felt like he'd reached a watershed, that his life would forever be divided into two phases: before making love with Hermione and after making love. He definitely preferred the latter phase. It involved early morning naked wrestling with Hermione, something he had a whole world of joy discovering. It was even better when they forgot about pinning the other down and exploring what they could do to each other with hands alone. He'd never forget the image of Hermione's body arced against him, his fingers caressing her, a great sigh escaping her lips and brushing his cheek.

After tussling and kissing and a stolen moment of lovemaking, the sound of footsteps clunking up and down the tower broke them from their bubble of isolation, and a sadness took Harry. He watched her put on her clothes, and she pulled open the curtain of the bed, looking about the room.

"No one's here," she said, and she dug about in her robe. "Where is it? Ah."

She tapped the edge of the enclosure with her wand, murmuring "Finite incantatem!"

Harry looked at himself. He was still naked under the covers, and he would have gotten up to kiss her, except that it was clear someone could walk in any moment. Things were suspicious as it was.

"I'm going to shower and have a few very strong coffees," she said. "Then I expect to see you under the tree, clean, dressed and awaiting your presents."

Harry smiled. In a way, nothing had changed, and he loved it. "Yes Ma'am."

She shot him a knowing smirk. "Good boy."

His smile turned to a grin, and he leapt up out of bed, much to Hermione's horror.

"Harry! Someone could see you!"

She'd hardly had a chance to back away before he kissed her, fully and hungrily.

"See you downstairs," he said, a rumble in his throat, and Hermione flushed, a huff taking her. She smiled faintly and pulled herself away, ducking out the door before he could try any other mischief. Harry turned away from the door, closing the curtains around the bed, looking at the rumpled mess that they'd left behind.

He grinned goofily and dug about for his pants.

~~*~~

The house was filled with the sound of merry making, thumping and laughing filtering through the wood and stone till the early hours of the morning. It was near dawn before most of the revellers settled down, and still Dean, Seamus and a couple of Hufflepuffs pissed the wee hours away in the kitchen. This wasn't a problem - someone had to drink the rest of the butterbeer. Ron relegated all responsibility for what went on from that moment to Dean, as he was tired and drunk and ready to crash somewhere comfortable. Ron was many things; impulsive, quick to anger, thoughtless, and sometimes a bit behind the eight ball, but he wasn't entirely thick. He knew what sort of party it'd be, and he knew that he had to stay there so that he could make sure the clean-up went as planned in the morning. He was sure as shit not going to sleep in the broom cupboard, or on a couch, or in the stairwell. He couldn't very well go back to Hogwarts either, so he locked and sealed up a spare room on the third floor before the party so that he had somewhere to go to sleep once all was over and done with.

Well, things were over, and the dawn was coming. So plodding through, he bid goodnight to an entirely wasted Dean Thomas, who was sprawled on a kitchen counter, arguing heatedly with Seamus about some kind of sport Ron didn't entirely understand.

"Night guys," said Ron, "Don't spew in the kitchen, all right?"

Dean stopped talking, paused, then peered at Ron down his nose. It took him a while to focus, and as he realised Ron had been addressing him, Ron had stopped speaking.

"What?"

"I said don't spew..." Ron mimed throwing up, "In the kitchen..." He waved at the room about him.

Dean frowned. "Is there spew in the kitchen?"

"No, ye stupid bastard!" swore Seamus in a thick lilt. "'E says he doesn't want ye to get sick in here!"

"But I feel fine!" Dean protested.

Ron groaned and shook his head. "Forget it. Look after him, Seamus. I'm going to go to sleep." He glanced about. "Where's Lavender?"

"She's behind you," said Seamus.

Ron looked behind him, Lavender just stepping in the door. She smiled and waved her fingers at him.

"You turning in?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I am," replied Ron, nodding. "Did you want to go back to Hogwarts or..."

"Not really. I was thinking of staying here with you," she replied matter-of-factly, and Dean choked on his beer.

Seamus giggled. Ron blushed beet red to the tips of his ears.

"Good *night*," he said, scowling at Dean and Seamus, who had started up a chorus of 'Lavender loves Ron, she wants to kiss his willy, and when he sees her boobs it makes him rather silly...'

He stomped out of the kitchen and down the main hallway to the landing, the chorus following both him and Lavender. The pretty girl giggled, finding it all very amusing, and the sound was music to Ron's ears. Not that he could really enjoy it; he was burning up from embarrassment.

"Yes, very funny," he mumbled.

"But don't my boobs make you silly?" she laughed.

He blushed even deeper red and he ground his teeth.

"It depends."

"Oh? On what?"

He kept his face serious, but there was a giggle in his throat.

"Whether you want to kiss my willy or not."

There was a choked giggle, and Lavender blushed deep red. Ron realised he might have said something that was a bit too risque, so he stopped, leaning on the banister, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry..."

Lavender's eyes widened and her smile froze on her face. "What?"

"I shouldn't - you know," He shrugged. "It was inappropriate."

"Oh! No, don't worry about it," she said, flapping a hand. "Fact of the matter is that I'm quite shy about... well... you know..."

Ron nodded. "Most people are when they haven't done it before."

"Besides, I only kissed you tonight."

Ron put a hand on her arm. "That's why I asked you if you wanted me to take you back to your dorm."

She smiled. "I don't mind sharing a bed, Ron."

That burning feeling of a blush rising in his cheeks took Ron's face again, and he smiled. "I've never-"

"Me either," she said, taking his hand.

A smile spread across his face, and he knew that she was as out to sea about all this as he was. He lead her up the flight of stairs, their steps slipping in and out of tandem, and reaching the last door in the landing at the top of the stairs, Ron pulled out his wand. He tapped the knob, muttering a spell, and with a gentlemanly bow, he swung open the door.

"Ladies first."

Lavender smirked, bowing demurely. "Why, I'm charmed, sir!"

Ron had to giggle. The thought of rag-tag Ronald, with the dirty old clothes and the scruffy upbringing, taking a beautiful lady like Lavender into a room in swish clean new clothes and expensive cologne made his head spin. It was simply too good to be true.

The room was spacious, but not overly huge, and a queen sized bed was in the middle, bulging with old crocheted blankets that made Ron feel right at home. The cool blue light of evening crept into the room from slightly parted curtains, stretching onto the bed. In the sliver of light, the pale gossamer swish of Lavender's dress glimmered as it fell to the floor. Turning, Ron's breath was taken away. She stood there, holding herself in her arms, dressed only in a sheer petticoat. Her knickers and delicate lace bra could just be seen, and her skin was like porcelain against her translucent undergarment. She smiled shyly, shivering a little, as Ron took off the heavy stiff outer layers of his outfit. He was down to his shirt and pants before he felt comfortable, barefoot and tousled. He didn't think he should take anymore than that off. If Lavender was comfortable with him wearing less, she'd let him know (most likely by taking whatever article off herself). The shirt was half unbuttoned, the sleeves wide open, and the cool night air slipped in and out of the cotton. He pulled back the heavy covers and patted the bed, winking at Lavender, who rolled her eyes and giggled.

She leapt into the bed with him, and wasted no time in snuggling to his side. Satisfaction and relief, and much more, spread through Ron as the girl wriggled next to him, finding the sweet spot on the mattress and seemingly in his body. She sighed finally, all comfortable.

"I had such a wonderful time tonight."

"I'm glad," said Ron.

She was quiet, and he could hear her breathe. He wondered if she was thinking.

"Thank you."

He glanced to her. "For?"

A smile, that seemed to have grown from within her heart, lit her features.

"Letting me in. Letting me be one of you."

Ron shrugged, and he stroked her arm thoughtfully, thinking on all that happened that night.

"Well..." He frowned, struggling to find the words, and he suddenly wished he'd read more books in all his time, so maybe he could say something meaningful and romantic to Lavender right at that moment. "...I think, over time, you're gonna be like my arm or my leg or something. You know?"

Lavender looked puzzled. "What... freckly?"

He shook his head. "No no no... you know - a part of my body, of me."

"Oh..." Lavender sighed.

"Yeah. I dunno. I just - I like having you around. I think I want you around a lot more from now on."

He didn't see it in the dim light, but Lavender smiled again, and she rolled onto him and kissed him firmly. He held her, still surprised by the fact that any girl would want to touch him let alone roll on top of him in a sheer slip and kiss him senseless. What he'd said to her seemed to be all the communication she needed, and now her touches were telling him what she felt. He responded in kind, completely satisfied for now to lie in bed and just kiss her and hold her, over and over again. They had the time of their lives exploring the possibilities of lips alone until soon their exhausted bodies gave up and the collapsed against each other, falling right asleep.

~~*~~

The sight that greeted those who rose on Christmas morning and made their way to the Great Hall was one that subsequent years of Hogwarts students would never forget. Its immortality was assured by Colin Creevey's itchy shutter finger, and he recorded with stunning sensitivity the emotion of the moment. The expression on the subject's face was one people would remember for years to come.

His body was not thin, and it was not grotesquely pale. It was lithe and there was little body fat, and it was crooked over the behind of the Hogwarts Hog in such away so that every time he struggled, it looked utterly obscene.

He had regained consciousness some time around eight in the morning. His own groans of discomfort woke him, and the reason why he felt bruised all up and down his front and in more tender areas became apparent to him. He was tied tight to a huge bronze hog, the hard contours of which had had a good four hours to dig into him and create some rather remarkable bruising. He wriggled his limbs, hoping that he could wrest his way free. No matter how he moved, his hands were strung tight together, and his feet were bound to the back end of the statue. He was stuck. He looked down.

He was naked and stuck.

He didn't have long to think his way out of the situation, or even come to terms with it, as the younger few students up for some morning Christmas goodies from the kitchen wandered through the Entrance Hall and saw their Head Boy trussed up against the school's mascot like a wayward porn star. They squealed and shouted and ran into the Great Hall, pointing and yelling, their voices echoing off the hall walls. Of course, sensing a photo opportunity, Colin Creevey, who liked to stay back at Christmas as it was such a short break, rushed in with camera clicking, gasping in pleasure and exultation at the marvellous work of art before him.

"Wonderful!" he cried, "Really great!"

"Creevey!" hissed Malfoy. "Stop that this instant! Fifty points from Gryffindor!!"

Colin Creevey just grinned. "No points or copies of these get to your father."

Spending six years amongst Gryffindors had not left Colin unscathed.

Malfoy's smoky grey eyes glinted dangerously. "You bastard."

Colin shuffled around, grabbing a few more snaps. By now there were a few other Sixth years about, giggling and pointing, a few girls eyeing Malfoy from behind with great intrigue. It wasn't long before there was the clip-clop of angry heels, and the distinct smell of wool tartan wafted into the Hall.

Malfoy felt his heart freeze.

"Mr. MALFOY!" cried the voice in a familiar brogue, "Dear God, put some CLOTHES ON!"

"It's a bit hard!" he scowled, "Considering I'm TIED UP, presently!"

Professor McGonagall stormed over, eyes gleaming with alarm, pulling her cloak off and making an effort to throw it over Malfoy. She fussed at him, zapping at the charms, and they did not come away so easily. Her hissing and tapping at the statue, and the noise she made and the sight of the gathering throng, caused even more students to come out. It took McGonagall fifteen minutes to remove the rope charms, by which time most of the students that had stayed behind (a good half of the school), had seen Draco Malfoy's behind.

She pulled him down from the statue, and like a shaken mother hen, McGonagall bustled him into her office. Once there, she swept past the huddled young man, making a beeline for a silver tea-set in the corner. She looked over her shoulder.

"Do sit down, Malfoy."

He nodded, edging to one of the chairs and slowly sitting down. After a moment she turned around with a hot cup of tea, and she placed it in front of him.

"Now, explain."

He was about to launch into a tirade about how Potter, Granger, Weasley and Brown had conspired against him with Delacour to get him drunk beyond reason and therefore into this situation in the first place, but it occurred to him, as he stared at McGonagall's horrified face, that by doing so he'd be shooting himself in the foot. He couldn't very well go and tell her that.

What the hell could he tell her?

He went even paler.

"... Mr. Malfoy - I'm waiting."

He cleared his throat, tipping up his head. "It was Potter."

McGonagall sighed, folding her arms. "I see."

"And Granger. And Weasley and Brown."

"Brown, now?" she said, lifting an eyebrow. "And how on earth did they get you into that position?"

"Stunning spell," he said, not sounding so certain. "Stunning spell."

"Do you have witnesses for this?" she asked, looking rather skeptical.

"Crabbe and Goyle," said Malfoy, nodding.

McGonagall eyed him. She eyed him for a very long time, and he felt those eyes almost drilling into his head. He wished she'd stop looking at him like that.

"All right, Malfoy. You may go."

Malfoy blinked, utterly shocked. "I can?"

"Yes," she said, folding her fingers together. "I can safely assume that whatever happened to you, it happened as a result of the leaving year's Christmas party that took place last night in a location unknown to us, and as such, out of school bounds. You shouldn't have been there, and I could punish you, but quite honestly..." McGonagall's face went blank, and she pressed her lips together, a twitch about the corner that Malfoy wondered if was the closest thing to a laugh he'd ever see on the evil woman. "... I don't see how I could make you suffer any more than Potter and his friends already have. Rest assured they will be spoken to. That will be all. And by the way - Merry Christmas."

Malfoy nodded, and he was about to hand back her cloak when he realised he was naked underneath it. He fidgeted awkwardly, and to this McGonagall looked as though she fought not to laugh.

"You may return it in the morning, Malfoy."

He nodded and stormed out of the door.

~~*~~

Harry forced himself not to run down the stairs. He was always excitable at Christmas time, when things weren't all going wrong for him at least, as he found no end of joy in giving presents to people that he loved dearly. It was only in his years at Hogwarts that he really got to give anything to anyone, and he decided that he very much liked it, liked watching people's faces as they opened the presents and saw what he'd gotten them. It was one of those little joys in the world that couldn't be measured, like a pretty blue sky, or the sound of birds talking to each other in the trees as though there was nothing better than to live and breath.

He bounced down the stairs, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione was by the tree in the Common Room, eyeing the presents with a look of insatiable curiosity. Hearing his steps, she glanced up and grinned.

"Hello!"

"Hey!"

Hermione was suddenly half immersed under the Christmas tree, her jeans-clad behind sticking out at rather an appealing angle. Harry was sorely tempted to slide his hand over it, but there were younger students in the room poring over their own gifts and chattering with their friends, and he knew the Head Girl getting groped was not the best example to be setting for them. He let his mind dawdle over the fantasy of it however, and when Hermione looked over her shoulder she saw the glint in his eyes, the slow patient pondering mingled with an unmistakable hunger. She gasped.

"Harry!" A giggle of disbelief fell from her, and the students on the nearby couch all looked to Harry to see what the fuss was.

Harry shrugged innocently and sank down on the floor next to Hermione. She only shook her head and dumped her present for him in his lap.

"Open that, you pervert," she said under her breath.

Harry chuckled, looking down to his lap and glancing at the present. He barely paused before tearing it open, the paper flying. Hermione giggled at his display, and then took her lip in her teeth as she waited for Harry to see what she'd gotten him.

His mouth dropped open. In his hands was a very old book, leather bounding decorated with intricate Celtic knotwork, chipped gold lettering on the cover spelling out the title 'Defeateing Darke Magick - the Art of Positive againste Negative.' In smaller letters underneath this were the names of many wizards that he'd seen here and there in history books. The one thing that struck him was the final line of credit:

Including the Defensive Teachings of Godric Gryffindor.

Harry gripped the book in his hands, mouth working, no words coming to him to express his gratitude. He did all he could think of. He leant forward and planted a big kiss on her lips.

Giggles broke out through the room, and Harry really didn't care. He pulled away, eyes gleaming, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I can't tell you..."

"It's all right," she said. "I found it during one of my book store pilgrimages - you know - looking for new magic we can work on in the DA."

He nodded, stroking the book with some awe.

"I know that being in Gryffindor is important to you," she said gently. "It's brought you comfort in the past, and when I saw this, and saw his techniques - I knew you'd flourish with them. They deal with using one's positive emotions and bonds with protective spells, and baffling the enemy with harmless charms that cause them to be incapacitated. You know - shying away from anger and hate. It's a very old magic, Harry. I have the feeling it'll help you."

He smiled, taking her hand. "Thank you. I think it will."

It occurred to him that he hadn't given Hermione her present yet, and with a little mind-clearing shake of his head, he dug under the tree. With a little sigh of relief he found it and gave it to her.

"It's not very good," he said, and Hermione gave him a sharp look that let him know that she'd be the judge of that. He couldn't help but feel that hers was well thought out, useful and steeped in sentiment compared to his. His own gift to her was rather scattered and silly.

Hermione's mouth curled to a grin, and she looked down at the large box in her lap filled with wonderful things. She pulled out a book and giggled. On the cover was a photo of a cat with a little knitted waistcoat on, with the title saying '101 Knitting & Crochet Patterns for Your Cat'.

"Oh, Harry," she said, smiling at the cover. "It's lovely... but I could only do the knitting projects... I can't crochet."

"Well, they show you how to in the beginning of the book," he said, pointing to it. "And look..." He stuck his hand in the box and pulled out a silver crochet needle. "A needle, and I bought you some charmed wool. This stuff..." He held up a ball of wool. "The colour changes... and this stuff sparkles."

Hermione pawed gently through the contents of the box. She picked up a little velvet bag and shook it. It tinkled.

"Oh... I was going to give it to you at the end of the year, but I couldn't wait. Open it!"

She did, and tipping it up an elegant silver identification bracelet dropped into her palm.

"Oh, Harry!" Peering at the ID tag, she read it out aloud. "Hermione Granger. Head Girl, 1997."

"Look at the back!" Harry said with an eager smile.

She carefully turned it over and grinned. "From Harry."

"I thought you might want to commemorate being Head Girl."

"It's beautiful!" she sighed, "It really is!"

He shrugged and pointed at it. "I wish I'd etched 'love' before 'from' now. Doesn't seem right this way."

She looked up at him through her lashes coyly with a smirk. "It's perfect."

She leant forward and hugged him tightly, giving him a soft moan of gratitude.

"There's one more thing in there," Harry said.

Hermione pulled out another little velvet bag, and opening it she pulled out different coloured shimmery ribbons. She tipped her head at them with a bemused expression, and Harry immediately felt stupid.

"It's for when you study," he said. "I noticed your hair falls in your face, and you're always tucking it away with your fingers."

"You noticed that, did you?" she said.

"Uhm..." He blushed beet red. "Well, those are to tie your hair back. And they're charmed, so that they don't come loose after you've tapped them with your wand."

A broad smile broke on her face, and she tucked all her things in the box.

"Harry, I love all of it."

Thank God, he thought.

She gave a big happy sigh. "I'm just going to have to thank you accordingly!"

"You are?"

With a smile, she wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him on the lips. Harry heard the children about him giggle, but he didn't care at all. This had to be the best Christmas he'd had to date; this one had Hermione kisses under the Christmas tree.

"Oi! Take it to your room!"

Harry broke away, flashing a smile at the voice. Ron stood before him, Lavender trailing behind him from the direction of the Portrait Hole, checking on her heel. Ron's hair was almost as awry as Harry's usually was, mussed and sticking at all angles. He knelt next to Harry, his posh clothes looking rumpled, Lavender looking much less sparkly and her wings moving only very slowly.

"Merry Christmas, mate," he said, dropping a hand roughly on his shoulder.

"You too, Ron," said Harry. "Did you clear up the mess you made?"

He was deliberately cryptic, and Ron didn't miss a beat.

"Yep. How did the boys sleep last night?"

Harry blushed beet red. "I didn't really notice."

Hermione was blushing too, and there was a giggle behind Ron. He looked over his shoulder at Lavender and smirked.

"Right, I get the picture," he said slowly.

"Oh God," huffed Hermione. "I can't imagine the picture you'd be getting!"

"Probably the right one," tittered Lavender.

Harry was too busy burning up with embarrassment to really say anything to that. He knew that if he said anything he'd only have a slip of his tongue (mmm... Hermione's tongue) and embarrass himself. He was right in the middle of some rather shocking mental pictures when a clear, sharp voice rung out through the morning air.

"Potter, Weasley, Granger and Brown."

They all looked over their shoulders to see a rather disappointed looking McGonagall standing in the doorway. Harry froze with terror, and when he looked to Hermione he was surprised to see a resigned look on her face. They slowly got up to their feet, all still drowsy and tired from their lack of sleep the previous night. McGonagall waited for them to come over to her with primly folded hands, and as they reached her, she lifted a stern brow.

"Follow me please. Bring your wands."

~~*~~

Harry very badly wanted to hold Hermione's hand. Not that he minded getting in trouble, he was used to it. And he didn't mind getting reprimanded by McGonagall either, that was par for the course in going to Hogwarts. It was the possibility of something happening that could impact his would-be career as an Auror that bothered him. If she gave him severe detentions, it might cut back on his study time. If he got badly in trouble, maybe he couldn't use McGonagall as a reference in his entrance forms, and that would be awful because Transfiguration was one of his better subjects. He squirmed under McGonagall's thoughtful glare, and he could see the others doing the same, bar Hermione who seemed to be taking it all in stride. Poor Lavender looked terrified, and Harry knew that she'd never been in serious trouble before.

McGonagall sat in her chair behind the desk; she did not offer them to sit. Folding her hands, she cleared her throat carefully.

"Draco Malfoy was found tied naked to the school mascot statue this morning. He said that you four had stunned him and put him there." She lifted her brows at them. They all remained silent, and after a moment of this she gave a stiff sigh. "I assume you have something to say in your defence?"

Harry saw Hermione glance to him, and Harry wondered if there was any point in denying it. If it was Malfoy's word against theirs, perhaps she would believe Harry? Unfortunately, they stood thinking about what to do a moment too long, and she stood, holding out her hands.

"Please give me your wands."

"What's wrong with hearing our side of things?" asked Hermione, clutching her wand pocket.

McGonagall closed her hands, eyeing Hermione. "If you have one, by all means, tell it to me. In fact, Miss Granger, I would be fascinated to discover why the Head Girl of all people could deem ... this... as appropriate! Please... enlighten me!"

"Malfoy locked Harry and I in one of the classrooms," said Hermione quickly. "We had to escape out the window because the door was bound shut with some very old and complicated magic."

Harry nearly groaned. Of course, McGonagall would want to know how Malfoy managed to get them into the classroom in the first place.

"And because of this you justify the gross humiliation Mr. Malfoy experienced this morning?" She sighed, taking a moment to even her temper, and then looked back to Hermione. "What were you doing in a classroom at that time?"

"I was doing a quick check of the corridors," said Hermione, calm as could be. "Harry was with me to keep me company. I thought I heard something in the classroom and went in to check. The next thing we knew the door slammed shut and we were locked in there."

He looked to McGonagall. She couldn't have bought this. She knew what was going on last night, she knew it. McGonagall opened her hands again.

"Your wands."

With a heavy heart, Harry handed her his wand. It clacked against Hermione's, and McGonagall closed her hands around them slowly. Sitting, she laid them out on the table, and leaning on her knuckles, she stared at them a long moment.

"I'm not entirely sure what went on last night," she said. "I'm aware of the tradition, and Professor Dumbledore and I do what we can to make sure no one gets hurt. By being a little... lenient... we hope that we can keep the students close enough to us that we can monitor their behaviour and make sure things don't get out of hand."

Harry squirmed on the inside at the word 'monitor'. Paranoia flared up inside him and he wondered if she knew what he'd done to Hermione last night, what he'd done in his own bed.

"I'm well aware that students will play up in their final year, but never in all my years have I seen anything quite so ... audacious! I certainly expected better behaviour from our Head Girl."

Hermione, for the first time, looked guilty. McGonagall caught her breath, sinking in her chair a little, her posture still impeccable, however.

"However, I'm aware of Malfoy's ... obnoxious ... nature. While this does not excuse the humiliation he no doubt suffered, it does temper my decision. I shall also examine his wand for evidence of curses and charms used in the past twenty-four hours. If I find proof of what has happened..." She sighed. "I shall give both parties the same punishment. Fifty points shall be taken from Gryffindor for each of you."

Harry's heart dropped in his chest. He hated losing Gryffindor points.

"Now... if I catch any of you using magic illegally in the halls again in the future, especially on another student maliciously..." She eyed them fiercely. "Your punishment will be far worse than what you are receiving today. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," they replied in a mumbling unison.

~~*~~

He had to wonder if they ever bothered dusting this place when not making naughty little students do it. His wand had been confiscated for the task and he was given a Muggle feather duster, and it was this he was fluffing along the tops of rows and rows of old smelly books in the school library. He could hear Hermione taking steps back and forth in between some shelves on the other side of the library. Affection would swell in his chest despite himself as he heard her voice float across the room, usually annoyed mutterings if she happened to see a book out of place or one in bad condition. Her love of books was endlessly endearing to Harry, and he had to wonder if, when you discovered you love someone, there was anything you didn't like about them, or at least tolerate. Even his Aunt would tolerate all sorts of terrible behaviour from Uncle Vernon. He marvelled at the power of this strange emotion. In the book Hermione had got him, the authors alluded to this power a lot. He wasn't sure how or if he should use it himself, but maybe there was something in it.

"Harry!"

He looked up. Hermione rushed about the corner of the bookshelf, a book open in her hand. Her eyes were glued to the page so she nearly ran into him. He caught her by the shoulders and smiled.

"What is it?"

"You should see this book I just found! I thought I knew nearly every one in this library!"

He tilted his head to see the spine. "What's it about?"

"Oh, it's about deliciously bad hexes!" she gasped eagerly.

His eyes widened and he pursed his lips worriedly. "And what exactly would we do with those?"

She rolled her eyes. "We wouldn't USE them. We should just know about them in case we run into them. You know that, silly!"

"Yes," he said, feeling some relief. "Are you dusting in the Restricted Section or something?"

Hermione widened her eyes back at him and nodded with a wide grin. "Heavens no. Perhaps Madam Pince misplaced it." She looked about himself, sighing thoughtfully. "Why do you think we got detention in the library, of all places?"

"Maybe McGonagall figured I could use the time here to glean some information for the DA..."

"Or your Defence Against the Dark Arts classes," suggested Hermione.

Harry smiled. "You better put this back. We have a lot to dust."

She sighed. "I don't want to. I just want to read all I'm seeing!"

"This *is* torture for you, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded, kicking the floor. "You bet it is. Can't imagine what torture it would be for you, other than being bored to death."

There were moments when Hermione could be remarkably perceptive. There were others where she could miss a bright red double-decker bus of a notion if it wasn't pointed out to her. This was one of them.

"Hmm, let's see," Harry said under his breath, yet loud enough for her to hear, turning back to the books and dusting them. "I'm in the library alone with Hermione for an hour a day, except that Madam Pince is in her office at the other end of the room. I could sneak in a kiss or two, but Madam Pince has the hearing of a hawk, and you can't sneeze in this place without her looking at you. So, there's being alone with her for once, and absolutely nothing that can be done with that isolation." He shook his head. "No, I don't see the torture in that for me at all."

Hermione blushed wildly and waved a hand. "All right, all right, I better get to the other end of the library before you ravish me!"

He only sighed deeply at that. It had been five days of this punishment now, and he was starting to think that he'd never want to see a book again, despite the things they'd read to each other in books that took their interest. The library was looking unnaturally dustless and cobweb free, and it seemed to disorientate students coming in the next day, because libraries, particularly ones filled with magic books, were generally expected to be dusty, cobwebby and mysterious. Still, Harry knew that McGonagall punished them for good reason, and she wasn't being random when she put both him and Hermione in the library. She'd strangely separated Ron and Lavender. Harry heard no end of trouble about that.

"Why do you get to stay with Hermione and I'm not allowed to spend time with Lavender during my detention?"

"Because McGonagall probably trusts me not to start groping Hermione in the middle of the library."

"But YOU'RE the one that - you know - " Ron went bright red and waggled his fingers in a vaguely lurid way. "You know!!"

Harry blushed back at him and shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm not going to do it in a public place."

"What makes you think Lavender and I would?"

Harry smirked. "Greenhouse Three, last Monday."

Ron glared and pointed at him. "That was heavy snogging, and we didn't know anyone could SEE us!"

"You were hiding behind a house made of glass!"

Harry burst into laughter.

He had two weeks of dusting in the library with Hermione. In the time they had there they'd amassed a long list of books they would take out not only for the DA, but regular lessons as well. Harry wasn't a keen reader by any lengths, but a few titles Hermione had shown him had piqued his curiosity, and from what he'd seen of the books, they looked like they were interesting to read, not dry and boring like the books that were given out during class. Poor Ron had to help Hagrid turn over the compost heap behind his hut, and Lavender was given tasks in the Infirmary, which was a matter of horror for her. She was a squeamish girl, greatly disliking bodily fluids and being around sick people. When back in the Common Room, huddled to Ron with a harrassed look on her face, she'd mutter to him that McGonagall knew it, damn it, McGonagall knew she hated the Infirmary. Harry didn't doubt it for a moment.

Malfoy was also given detention, as they'd found a host of naughty spells on his wand (though why Ron wasn't in trouble for half of the ones he did for the party, Harry didn't know). The blond boy had complained that McGonagall had gone back on her word, but it was made clear that her word had been given when he was not guilty of any wrong doing. He was made to help the elves in the kitchen after dinner for two weeks. It amused Harry no end that Malfoy reeked of onions and garlic for the whole time. All Harry smelt of was old books and dust, and he didn't care because it only reminded him of Hermione.

Harry found after the detention was over that he actually came to miss the time alone with her every day. It was nice to be in a quiet place, just him and her, talking to each other and sharing something, even if it was books. He ached for her every day since the night of the party, knowing that they couldn't be together in that manner for some time. He was happy to be with her during the day, and the news of their getting together was deliciously scandalous. Harry wanted to be careful about it all. He made sure he didn't act too giddy in public, though he let Hermione know in no uncertain terms that he certainly felt it. I'm keeping it quiet for your protection, he'd tell her. She was already a target, because everyone had always assumed that she was the love of his life anyway. He had his ways of letting her know how he felt, as understated and subtle as they were. And in the safety of Gryffindor Tower, they'd huddle in the Common Room and study together, utterly content. Harry knew that the changing of his relationship with Hermione could, and most likely would, cause him trouble. The bad kind of trouble he feared the most, he guessed. Though there was one thing he'd long promised himself.

He wouldn't stop living life because Voldermort wanted him and his friends dead.

~~*~~

"Harry! This is madness, we'll get caught!"

"When has that ever stopped us before?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore knows when people use this room."

Harry shrugged. "Good on him. I need five minutes alone with you without being stared at."

He closed the door behind him and looked about the room. The Room of Requirement had changed itself quite nicely to a snug room with a blazing hearth and a very comfortable couch. It also had a large plush rug between the lounge and the fire. He smiled and nodded.

"Lovely."

"This is a bad idea," she said, lingering behind as Harry pulled her towards the couch. "I am certain McGonagall knows what we got up to that night, though maybe because she can't prove it or whatever, we've not been expelled..."

"We're of age, Hermione," said Harry over his shoulder. "And I don't think there's any way to prove what we did at all."

Hermione folded her arms darkly. "You're lucky I know a thing or two about witches' prophylactics, otherwise there'd be all the proof in the world!"

"Ah. Good point." He looked up at her. She was standing in front of him, and he was all sat comfortably on the couch. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

With a stubborn sigh, she threw herself down next to him. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, and there was about a foot between him and Hermione. He eyed the space, and then looked at her, lifting his brows cheekily.

"I'm not leaning against you. What if someone walks in?"

Harry dug in his cloak and pulled out his wand. "We're practicing some hexes for DADA."

Hermione huffed and pulled out her own wand. "This is very naughty."

"We're naughty all the time..."

"For a good cause," she said, "Always a good cause."

"And what's not good about this?"

She just eyed him.

"Haven't you wanted just a little time alone?" he asked her, leaning forward a touch. "Like when we've been studying in the library? And there's something you want to say or do, but you know there are all those eyes that could turn on you and ruin it all?"

Hermione's eyes drifted close and she sighed fitfully.

"Yes! Of course! But I don't want you getting into trouble because of me."

"Come here," he said, beckoning her with a crook of his hand. "If we get in trouble, you can take the rap."

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and Hermione chuckled, all but collapsing against him, wrapping her arms about him.

"God, I miss being with you like this," she sighed. "That party spoiled me, it really did."

"Me too," said Harry. "But I'm so glad that it all happened."

Hermione glanced to him, meeting his eyes. "So am I."

Unable to resist, Harry brought his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and gently. He could feel her melt against him, her arms curling about his neck, one of her legs hooking over his. Her sighs filled his ears, and she pulled away.

"This is going to be the longest six months of my life, I think," she moaned unhappily.

"I know," he said, then added with a smirk. "But at least we did it when the opportunity presented itself."

"Harry!" she gasped. He met her eyes with a look of amusement, and she had to chuckle back at him. "You're right."

"That wasn't the reason I did it, though."

She smiled. "I know."

"So when's the next party?" he asked her.

"Well..." She gazed at the ceiling in thought. "Nothing really happens till Leaving Day, and we're allowed to do what we like then anyway."

Disappointment crashed through Harry, and it was just a little bitter.

"Damn it." He pouted.

"We could start celebrating Valentine's Day, but that'd be entirely out of character for all of us."

"Yeah, let's not go there," he said, trying not to squirm. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Or we could keep meeting here on a regular basis and treasure the happy memory of it in the shower."

Harry's mouth popped open and he gasped. "Hermione!"

She grinned, propping an arm on his shoulder. "What, you don't think of me in the shower?"

His mouth worked but no sound came out. He'd never imagined the day when Hermione would admit to such a thing to him, whether they'd had sex or not. All he could do next was laugh with disbelief.

"With relish," he finally said, "But I never thought I'd hear you talk about it."

She shrugged. "Well, I am." Her hand was suddenly on his inner thigh, and with a naughty grin she leant closer. "What do you think of me doing?"

He gave an uncertain laugh, and then meeting her eyes he saw that she was absolutely serious. He strangely felt guilty for thinking about her whilst he touched himself in the shower, and her eagerness to hear exactly what he thought about her was rather daunting. He looked at her, uncertainty in his eyes.

"You don't mind that I do?"

The grin faded a little, and was replaced with a warm smile. She slid the hand up his thigh, caressing him comfortingly, touching her nose to his. "No, I like it."

"Even before we were going out?"

She grinned again. "Now that's just flattering. Come on - tell me, and I'll tell you what I thought of you doing."

He told her. With blushing cheeks and shy glances from under his eyelashes he told her every blessed detail, and he could feel them both getting heated with the description. He nearly died of a mingling of wonderful feelings as Hermione snuggled close and whispered in his ear the devilish things she'd imagined whilst pleasuring herself, and he couldn't help but close his eyes and thank God for Draco Malfoy and his insistence on making his life difficult.

In fact, he thanked God for that entire night, from the moment Hermione said that she'd go to the party with him to the moment where they fell asleep in each other's arms. He knew his life would be different if he hadn't experienced that night as he had, taking a risk, letting Hermione know how he felt. Then the night of revelry that followed seemed a fitting celebration to the beginning of a beautiful new relationship.

All in all, he was glad he went to the Christmas party.

~~*~~