Draco Malfoy's history of poor decision-making continues after the war, when he returns to Hogwarts under strict probation. Bored and restless, he decides to cast the infamous Vanishing Cabinet spell to link his bed with the bed of a willing witch...
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Hermione headed up the stairs to her Gryffindor dorm, moving as quickly as her stiff knees would allow. She stopped outside the room to catch her breath. Would he still be there? Cautiously, she creaked open the door.
The sight within made her gasp. Draco was sitting on her sofa, his black shirt half-buttoned, petting her cat, who was snuggled beside him. And he was reading. Reading Hogwarts: A History.
Hermione's gaze shifted to the S.O.F.T. study, now marked up in a familiar elegant hand. Draco had been reading, petting, filling out Ravenclaw surveys? With his shirt open and his hair ruffled? Oh, if only he were wearing his glasses.
Draco raised a single eyebrow and Hermione practically melted into a puddle of furniture polish.
"You ... ah ..." She swallowed and tried again. "Why are my curtains green?"
He ignored this and closed the book. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "I've been bored to death here."
"I-I volunteered to polish the Grumpy Staircase," she said. "S.M.E.A.R."
"Smear?"
"Staircase Maintenance Effort and Repair." Hermione set down the wooden bucket with a sigh. "Blasted thing complained the whole time: 'Don't rub so hard, don't be stingy with the polish, it's too sticky, now you're rubbing too lightly ...'"
"Interesting." Draco picked up Crookshanks and set him on the floor. "Come here and demonstrate. Show me exactly what you were doing."
She shook her head, suppressing a smile. "I'd better clean up."
Draco looked her up and down. "Yes, that would be best." His nose wrinkled slightly, and this was Hermione's cue to snatch up a robe, towel and toiletries bag and run out the door before she changed her mind.
She returned twenty minutes later to a very different scene. Draco was standing before her bed, dressed only in black boxers, his darkwood wand raised. "Colova—"
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Surely you've cast enough magic on that bed, Draco."
The blond wizard spun around. "About time, I found some lotion ..." He stopped and blinked at her.
"What?" she asked.
Draco gave her a predatory smile. "Do you have any idea how you look right now?"
"No." Hermione grinned back. "Tell me."
"YOOWL!" Crooky was scratching at the door, desperate to leave. Hermione waved a hand and the door opened, and the cat dashed out. The door slammed shut, and Draco Summoned the darkwood to add a small ward, too weak to be seen.
Then he turned back to Hermione, who had let her robe fall open a bit more. She expected Draco to seize her immediately, but he just stared as her still-wet hair dripped down the back of her neck. Merlin, did he have any idea how he looked right now?
