Hermione woke with a gentle thump in her own bed. She stretched luxuriously—she'd been having the most delicious dream, all sweetness and softness and warmth and safety. She ran a hand up her ribs, almost purring like a cat. Mmmmm ... a few more nights like this and she'd be caught up on her sleep.
She wanted to burrow back under her bedcovers, perhaps capture that dream again, but she could hear Crookshanks on the desk, knocking over objects to protest another nighttime disappearance. She sat up and waved a hand to light a nearby lamp.
"Crooky!" she hissed through the half-open curtains. "Stop that! You'll knock off the ..."
The Astrarium clock.
Hermione stared at the rune-carved box teetering on the edge of her desk. The clock was in her bed when Malfoy first cast that horrid spell. A time-based spell. On a broken magic clock.
Oh no.
She scrambled out of the bed and opened the box, ignoring Crookshank's mews for attention. The clock was in terrible shape thanks to Malfoy's antics, with its dented dials and little pile of spheres. Time-based magic relied on heavenly bodies, and the Astrarium clock's faulty sun, moon and planets had likely confused Malfoy's Vanishing Spell. No wonder its timing was running wild. Hermione closed the wooden box, frowning. Temporal magic was insanely intricate; they might never figure out where the spell went wrong.
A thump at the window made her nearly drop the box; she closed it and set it back on the desk. Then she unlatched the pane, shivering in the cold night air. A small white owl, so fat and fluffed with feathers it looked like a Pygmy Puff with wide wings, zoomed inside and bounced onto the sofa. Hermione had a hard time finding the bird's leg among all the down, but finally she extracted a small package and scroll. Harry's handwriting. She looked at the mantle clock: 6 a.m. Aurors did start the day early.
She sent the owl off with a treat and dropped into an armchair to read:
Hermione,
Watch yourself with the ferret. Drop Divination if you have to—nobody needs eight NEWTs. Here's a Sneakoscope, we have a ton of them lying around here and they're always going off. Stay away from any snakes. I've heard about that transfer student from Durmstrang. I'll check into his trial. He and the ferret are probably scheming together.
Harry
Hermione rolled her eyes. Only Harry could fit so much ridiculousness in a few sentences. She wasn't dropping Divination or carrying around a Sneakoscope and staying away from Slytherins literally wasn't an option. Honestly, he sounded as mad as Ginny.
Harry's warnings still echoed, however, and she found herself stepping up to her Foe-Glass, its round mirror askew on a tarnished brass stand. She'd found it on the floor of the Room of Requirement early in the school year and brought it upstairs with a vague idea of restoring it. Previously the Foe-Glass had held only the faintest of shadows, denoting enemies weak and far away, but now a darker shadow lurked behind a small web of cracks. Had that been there before?
Maybe it's Malfoy, Hermione thought. She'd have to tell him about the Astrarium clock and he wouldn't be pleased.
Oh, well. She grinned into the Foe-Glass and her distorted image grinned back rather menacingly. A good thing I wasn't put on this earth to please Draco Malfoy.
***
"Hello, Hermione."
She paused at the Hufflepuff table, surprised by Justin Finch-Fletchley's approving tone. The Head Boy generally approved of very little around him. He was, however, always polite and willing to help others. Of course, that help usually came with a healthy dose of condescension, but he meant well.
So Hermione smiled down at the dark-haired wizard. She had fussed more than usual over her appearance today, taking the time to style her hair and press a short black skirt and red blouse. She even wore gold snitch earrings with tiny fluttering wings, a birthday present from Harry.
"Good morning, Justin," she said.
Justin preened, accepting any attention as his due. He sat a bit apart from the rest of the Hufflepuffs, since not even easygoing badgers enjoyed snooty commentary about their food choices first thing in the morning. Justin then gave Hermione a puzzled look when she didn't move away now that the social niceties had been exchanged.
Hermione, however, was eyeing the Head Boy speculatively. Justin, she now remembered, was an expert in Astronomy and astrological magic.
"You are welcome to join me, of course," Justin said with cool politeness.
"Thank you," she said, and dropped onto the bench opposite him.
One of Justin's slender, dark brows arched in surprise, but he said nothing, just poured her a cup of tea. So nice to deal with a wizard with manners. Justin looked impeccable as ever in dress trousers, a light blue shirt that matched his eyes and a yellow tie. His four-colored Head Boy badge was pinned to his shirt, and he wore gold badger cufflinks and an onyx-and-gold Hufflepuff ring. Hermione tilted her head slightly, considering. Her waitlist of romantic applicants had undergone some shuffling that morning, with Ernie off the rankings entirely since he was practically engaged to Megan Jones. Justin, however, remained a viable prospect for RAW.
"What do you know about Astrarium clocks?" she asked.
"A fair amount, actually." The Hufflepuff began cutting his toast into precise triangles. "My father has a collection of muggle Astraria—he's an award-winning physicist, you know."
Hermione did know. "And magical Astraria?"
"Ah, magical Astraria." Justin's eyes lit up and he set down his knife. "Fascinating. And quite rare. Did you know that magical Astraria track not only the current hour and year, but also the movement of the planets and any other object in the sky you care to follow?"
Hermione was intrigued. "What kinds of objects?"
"Just about anything," Justin said with a shrug. "From a Quidditch player to a Muggle airplane. Headmaster Dumbledore had one that tracked his phoenix. There's a tiny ruby-and-gold bird in that clock."
"Fascinating," Hermione said, remembering the delicate instruments in Dumbledore's office. "Justin, I have a broken Astrarium in my bedroom."
"Really." Justin blinked at the last word and Hermione flushed.
"Yes," she continued determinedly. "Would you like to help me repair it?"
Justin eyed her in quiet alarm. "I hardly think—"
"I could bring the clock to the library! The library!" Hermione gave an awkward half-squeak, half-laugh. Brilliant. Three nights with Malfoy and she was practically unfit to talk to men.
Justin considered. "I suppose I could find the time." He finished his geometric breakfast and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Tonight after dinner, perhaps."
"Thank you." Hermione stood and turned to leave, her eyes darting over the Slytherin table. Malfoy sat rigidly straight, his face dark. Students finished with breakfast were literally edging along the walls to avoid him on their way to the doors. Hermione frowned back at Malfoy—hopefully he'd be in a better mood when they met at lunchtime.
***
He wasn't.
A Disillusioned Malfoy flew through her bedroom window in a rush, nearly smashing the glass pane. Hermione heard the thump of his landing and the clatter of a broom, and the wizard suddenly popped into view, looking every inch the menacing Death Eater in a flapping black cloak.
"Let's get this over with," he snapped.
Hermione sighed. This was the second time Malfoy had appeared in her bedroom looking ready to kill. He really didn't like being in Gryffindor Tower.
"Wait," she said. "I have something to tell you."
"Don't waste my—"
"I know why the spell's time element is all wonky."
Malfoy crossed his arms. "Why," he gritted out.
"That's why." Hermione pointed to her desk. "That box holds a magical Astrarium clock I've been trying to repair. It was in my bed when you cast the spell."
Malfoy stared down at the box. "What was a broken Astrarium doing in your bed?"
"I like to work on it in the evenings. It's relaxing."
"So it's your fault the spell's fucked up."
"No, Malfoy, it's your fault for casting the spell in the first place." Damn it, they'd been over this.
"Who keeps broken magical objects in their bed?" Malfoy's scowl deepened. "You could have seriously injured yourself!" He shuddered. "Or me!"
"Forgive me, Malfoy, for possibly endangering your precious hide while you shagged my roommate in my bed!"
"I didn't know it was your bed!"
Hermione sniffed. Like it would have mattered if he did. She opened the box. "Quit playing the fool and look at it. Do you think this Astrarium is powerful enough to affect your spell?"
The Slytherin stepped up beside her to peer at the broken clock. "Yes, it's big enough, and as you said, it was a delicate spell." A long, pale finger pointed to the pile of metal spheres. "Copernican? If so, you're missing a planet."
"What?" Hermione fished out her wand and delicately rolled the planets, moon and golden sun around the clock. "You're right. Jupiter's missing." She looked around the desk. "Do you see it anywhere? It's 2 inches in diameter, made of copper."
"Is it still in the bed?" Malfoy asked.
"Probably. Oh Merlin," she groaned. "I have to find it."
"Yes, you do," Malfoy lectured. "It's a magical object and probably interfered with the counterspell."
Hermione ran over to the bed and began pulling off pillows. "Well, Malfoy?" she said, looking over her shoulder. "Help me!"
"Typical Mud—" Malfoy began. Hermione glared. "Fine, Typical Princess-Born-Of-Muggles. Have you forgotten you're a witch?"
"No, and don't you forget it either," she snapped.
"So just Summon the fucking thing."
"Oh?" Now it was Hermione who sneered. "Go ahead." Typical purebloods, thinking magic was the only answer. The Summoning Charm was very basic and only worked on easily identifiable items. Casting Accio would probably just give the tiny Jupiter an identity crisis: Was it a ball, a planet or a timepiece?
"Accio Jupiter," Malfoy said, waving his wand at the bed.
Hermione snickered. "As powerful as you are, Malfoy, I doubt you can Summon an entire planet."
"Accio Jupiter model." No response. "Accio copper ball." Nothing. Malfoy's face darkened further. "Accio Jupiter Astrarium part." Again, nothing.
Hermione knew she looked smug, but she didn't care. "Come on, we don't have all day." She began pulling pillows off the bed again, then looked over at the wizard, who hadn't moved.
"Look at all that revolting red and gold," Malfoy said. "We'll never find a little copper ball in that bed."
"We have to try." Hermione pulled at the coverlet. "Help me, you lazy git."
With a martyred air, Malfoy shed his cloak and moved to the other side of the bed. He tugged sharply at the other end of the coverlet, hindering rather than helping, so Hermione suddenly released the cloth, knocking him back against the wall.
Malfoy scowled but said nothing, just tossed the coverlet to the floor. He began running a hand over the red-sheeted mattress and along the crack against the headboard. Hermione crawled on the bed to do the same along the footboard, and felt a dip in the mattress as Malfoy steadied himself with a knee on the bed to lean over her.
"It's pretty tight in there," Malfoy complained loudly. "I can't get my fingers in. Move a little bit so I can get a better angle. Come on, Granger, be a little more cooperative!"
A gasp made them look up and Hermione teetered backward, falling onto Malfoy. He, in turn, fell against the headboard and grabbed her thighs to steady himself. Hermione landed in his lap, and they both looked up to see Romilda and Leanne staring in shock.
Hermione was suddenly aware of her pulled-out shirt and skirt up around her waist. Then she remembered what Malfoy had been saying and her cheeks burned like fire.
"Hello, girls," Malfoy said. "Like to join in?" His hands were still on her thighs, warming her skin through her sheer tights. It took all of Hermione's self-control not to elbow him in the stomach.
Romilda huffed and crossed her arms. "It's a fine thing, you acting all superior, Hermione," she said, "and now look who you're shagging."
"He ... I ... we ..." Hermione was unable to form words.
Romilda brightened. "Does this mean Cormac can stay too?"
"NO!"
"I can't believe it!" Leanne broke in. "Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy!"
Hermione and Malfoy both jumped off the bed. A little afternoon delight was the only reasonable explanation for this scene, but Leanne would spread it all over the school. That couldn't be allowed.
Malfoy had apparently come to the same conclusion. He waved his hand, and the bedroom door slammed shut. "If either of you say a word about this," he growled, "I will make you regret the day you were fucking born."
Leanne looked ready to faint, but Romilda just frowned in disapproval.
"Aren't you Mr. Grumpy Gus," she said. "Are you sure you're doing it right, Hermione? I told you, first Draco likes his—"
"I'm not doing anything right!" Hermione snapped.
"I second that," Malfoy agreed.
"Do shut up, Malfoy."
"I just can't believe it!" Leanne repeated, her eyes wide. Draco glared at her and she shrank back.
"I expect both of you to hold your tongues," Hermione said. "If you don't, I have two words: Marietta Edgecombe."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but the effect on the two girls was instantaneous. All color drained from Romilda's face and Leanne cried out: "We won't tell! We won't tell anybody! We promise!"
"See that you don't," Hermione said. "Now get out. We're busy."
Romilda stood her ground, looking mutinous. "I still don't think it's fair. I can't bring in Cormac, but you two can come here any time and have terrible sex."
"We're not having terrible sex!" Hermione snapped.
"It could be better," Malfoy said.
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"Ugh, you're both so bossy," Romilda sniffed. "No wonder the sex is bad."
"Enough!" Hermione's patience snapped, and she drew her own wand. "Get out!"
Leanne ran out of the room and even Romilda looked wary. "Fine," she said and flounced out after her friend. Hermione lowered her wand and rubbed her forehead.
"Who the fuck is Marietta Edgecombe?" Malfoy wanted to know.
"A girl who couldn't keep her mouth shut." Hermione walked over to the bed and raised the vinewood. "Wingardium Levi-O-sa!" The mattress slowly rose up four feet.
"Well, go on," she told Malfoy. He gave her a dirty look, then ducked under the mattress, inspecting the bedframe by the light of his wand.
"Found it," he said, waving his closed hand, his head and torso still under the mattress. Hermione flicked her wand.
Malfoy's shouts were muffled by the mattress on his head, but he immediately pulled himself out, his hair standing on end, and advanced on Hermione.
Hermione pointed her wand at him, and he stopped with a snarl. Visibly calming himself, he walked over to the desk and deposited the copper ball in the clock before smoothing his hair. Hermione replaced the mattress and restored all the bedcovers and once again the two faced each other.
"Well?" Hermione asked.
Malfoy looked over the once-again pristine bed, brow furrowing. "Hopefully, without the interference of random magical rubbish, the counterspell will take." He waved his wand in a precise circle, repeating at intervals: "Intermissum Harmonia Nectere."
Hermione couldn't keep from flushing, and Malfoy smirked. After he finished the counterspell, she cast her own wand slowly over the bed. "There's no sign of any magic in this bed," she said. "It must have worked."
"Thank Salazar," Malfoy said, donning his cloak. "Accio broom." The air shimmered, and Hermione heard the smack of the Disillusioned broom in his hand.
He gave her a dark look as he mounted the broom and used his wand to open the window. "Have fun fucking your Hufflepuff."
"What? I—" Hermione stammered in confusion, but Malfoy just Disillusioned himself, and she stood with her mouth open, watching the ripple of light fly out the window.
NEXT UP: Draco, the grand seducer, chats up a Ravenclaw.