Hermione yawned and stretched out her hand trying to pull her pillow back under her cheek. Even though she was still half asleep, she could still identify the hard thing under her head as a book.
"Should have put my books away before I went to bed," she thought to herself sleepily.
Hermione stayed that way, torn between sleep and wakefulness, for another moment before she remembered something extremely important. She had never gone to bed the night before. That certainly shocked her fully awake.
She was still in their room. She had been sleeping in her large, squishy chair, the book that she had been trying to translate serving as a pillow. Hermione rubbed her eyes, it was rather dark in the room, the fires had never been lit and the candles had smoldered themselves out ages ago. There was a chill in the air and Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself, trying to fend off the cold. But in her rush, she had left her cloak at the ball with Dean; this cloak was dark gray and would match perfectly with the dress robes that Draco had been wearing at the ball.
Hermione pulled the lapels of the cloak tighter and tilted her head slightly so that she could feel the softness of the fabric against her cheek. It smelled faintly of some exotic spice, perhaps patchouli. Draco himself, she noticed, was still sitting across from her in the dark, his head propped up against his hand. Pale tousled hair that seemed to almost glow in the dimness was hanging low over his face.
Hermione yawned again and wished that she had at least gone to change before she had drug him up here. As if waking up in a dark cold room after you had been sleeping in a chair wasn't bad enough, she had done it in her new dress robes.
She stood up unsteadily and walked to the windows, it was very dark outside, not that she would have been able to see anything through the glass even if it hadn't been the middle of the night. The window was covered in a fine sheet of frost.
She returned to the table and lightly touched Draco's shoulder. When he didn't stir she leaned down and whispered quietly.
"Mal...Draco, wake up."
He didn't respond. Hermione glared at his sleeping form, he would have to be a deep sleeper. Leaning closer, she tightened her grip on his arm.
"Draco," she shook his arm, "wake up."
And he did. With a startled grunt he jerked back from the table and grabbed her. Before Hermione could even register what was happening, she found herself laying on the table staring wide-eyed up at Draco. He held her arm painfully tight and she was very aware of the tip of his wand pointing at her throat.
"Malfoy! Have you gone daft?" She snapped, half in anger, half in fear.
His dark gray eyes lightened as he recognized her and he let go of her arm.
"Hermione, what are you doing in my dorm?" Draco's surprise faded and he gave Hermione a seductive smirk.
"Get off Draco, I'm not in your dorm, and neither are you." Hermione said sourly.
Draco stepped back from her, and Hermione sat up, she was still leaning against the table. Her arm was beginning to ache slightly and she grimaced.
"Did I hurt you?" Draco's smirk faded and he stepped closer to her again.
"No, no, I'm sure that once the blood starts flowing again everything will be fine." Hermione said waspishly.
"Here, let me see."
Draco didn't wait for an answer; he took her arm and gently pushed up the flared sleeve of her robe. In the dark, the vibrant scarlet was a dark maroon, and it contrasted strongly with the bright white of her arm. Even in the dark, the place where he had gripped her arm could be seen; small red splotches marked where his fingers had been.
