Disclaimer: Seriously? No . . . seriously?

A/N: This was written as a gift for jayabear at the Feb 2007 dmhgficexchange. It was written in a bit of a rush . . . but I enjoy it nonetheless.

Summary: "What's going on; what is everyone looking at?" ". . . it's Draco Malfoy – he's going to jump!"

Falling

"Has anyone seen Malfoy?" Hermione yelled as she ran the length of the grounds from Greenhouse Four to the front entrance of the castle. She had heard from Pavarti who heard it from Lavender, who was told by Dean, who got it from Seamus, who overheard Pansy telling Millicent that Draco, in a crazed nonsensical rampage, had stormed off to one of the towers with every intention of throwing himself off of it.

Only, which tower? Nobody knew! There were fourteen towers at Hogwarts, only a handful of which were accessible to students. Seven if you were brave enough to face the unknown terrors hidden in the East wing. Eight if you were in possession of the Marauder's Map.

Knowing her boyfriend-like-significant-other-type-person (because what do you call someone when you've never technically been on a date, but make-out with them on a frequent basis in the library?), he could be hanging precariously from the edge of any of them! (Or so Pavarti said).

Consumed by too many thoughts and fears, Hermione released a shriek as she sprinted up the steps into the castle. She had no idea where to begin but one thing was for certain – she needed to go up. And fast.

Pansy was a grade A witch with a capital B. How could he have ever (ever! ) been interested in her? Even considering the notion that he had ever entertained the ridiculous thought of perhaps contemplating that he could possibly date her made him sick.

She was annoying and ugly and stupid and simpering and ugly and snobby and ugly and on top of it all . . . had the sheer audacity, the gall, to tell Draco Malfoy that he was afraid of taking risks. That he, the biggest risk taker of them all (that is, of the Slytherins, not the Gryffs, because those idiots risk life and limb on a daily basis), who had defied Voldemort, stood up to the most Evil of Bastards to ever be born (and re-born) and lived to tell the tale, didn't take risks . . . He was dating Hermione Granger, for crying out loud!

Only, nobody knew that so he couldn't exactly rub it in anyone's face.

Yet.

He had every intention of doing so, however. He would flaunt that little piece of information from here till kingdom-come. He, Draco Malfoy, was dating Hermione Granger – the smartest witch at Hogwarts, the best friend of Harry 'I Saved The World - Twice' Potter, the future Minister of Magic (if Draco had anything to do with it). He patted himself on the back at every opportunity for his phenomenal luck.

Let us not forget to mention that he was positively besotted with the witch. Who knew why, when, where, or how they came to be – something about overcoming their differences and prejudices, the unresolved sexual tension, the vicious rivalry based upon grudging respect, or some other such rubbish. All that mattered to him was that it did, it happened, it was for sure, and it was mutual. He not only liked her, but she liked him! Completely inconceivable but there it was – she did. Of course she did – after realizing what a charming, debonair, handsome bloke he was, who could resist?

There was one hitch, however. One teeny-tiny, inconsequential little detail he liked to call: 'Mum' and 'Dad'. Voldemort may be dead and decaying six feet under, but his parents were upright, fully functional, ready and more than willing to marry Draco off to the next pureblood witch who showed interest.

Well, his mother at least. Father was still in jail with no prospect of probation, but that did not mean he didn't try to exert his influence at every opportunity. He was currently locked up in a new detention facility made especially for Death Eaters and other people guilty of war crimes. It had top-notch security, full of creatures more terrifying than Dementors – the frightening offspring of a manticore and Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts. The beasts simply made Draco shudder.

His father had no prayer of escape (which suited Draco just fine, as he didn't care much for his father these days). But the facility did offer some comfortable amenities to the inmates, such as a fine sampling of complementary stationary for general correspondence. Unfortunately for Draco, Lucius Malfoy took every opportunity to compose long-winded diatribes of what a disappointment Draco was to the family, how his decisions resulted in his father's permanent imprisonment, and how he had better shape up and do the family proud or suffer the consequences. Which Draco translated into: marry a vapid pureblood breed horse, produce as many pureblood heirs as possible, and take up the family business of universal bullying, bribing, blackmailing, and other assorted philanthropic endeavors.

Hermione, therefore, definitely didn't fit into their plans. Plans that, if thwarted, would result in severe repercussions for Draco.

Like being disowned. Which would mean losing his inheritance . . .

"I don't take risks," he scoffed. Pansy was an idiot. An ugly idiot. With a pug nose.

As far as castle architects go, the one who designed Hogwarts Castle should be hung, drawn, and quartered in Hermione's opinion. Not only does the grand staircase not lead to any of the towers, it chose the exact moment Hermione stepped foot onto the stair to rotate and reorganize so that she had no possible way of making it directly to the fifth floor where she had direct access to three flights of stairs that led to four different towers.

Instead, it dropped her off on the second floor and before she could change her mind and go to the fourth floor, it had moved so that she would either have to go back down to the first floor and run half a mile to the other main stair case or all the way up to the seventh floor which had no tower access and then go down a secret stair well to the fifth, that had a secret passage that would take her to the –

"Argh!" she growled as she hurtled herself down the hallway. What she would give to have the Marauder's Map and a license to Apparate and the ability to make that possible within Hogwarts walls.

Specifically for her, that is.

Not unwanted Death Eaters or other villains.

And ridiculous Weasley twins who would surely abuse the privilege.

God, how many freaking stairs are there going up to the Astronomy tower? After Pansy insulted him, Draco accio'd his broom and made straight for the tower, ruminating on just how much he hated Pansy. He couldn't wait until school was over so he could stop putting up with her crap.

Pansy was one to talk about risks. Little Miss 'wouldn't get the Dark Mark because she's allergic to tattoos and marring her skin would hurt her chances of finding a husband'.

Pfft. Like she could ever land a husband, Dark Mark or no.

At least Draco stood up for what he believed in.

And then (and then!) she went further and insulted his Quidditch skills; saying the reason why Potter beat him to the snitch every time was because Potter was fearless. He flew like he wasn't afraid of falling off or hitting the ground.

Well neither was Draco! He wasn't afraid either. Not. At. All.

She laughed at him.

She really couldn't imagine any reason why he would want to kill himself – at least by throwing himself off the tallest thing he could find. She'd always imagined he was more of the 'taking a poison privately and dying in secret' kind of bloke, but the more she ran, the more she thought it was plausible. He'd really be making a statement – a big, gooey, red, messy statement, but then Draco always did have a flair for the dramatic.

It never occurred to Hermione that contemplating your pseudo-boyfriend's hypothetical suicide was a morbid and strange thought. She'd done it for everybody. Harry would turn his wand on himself and Ron would get run over by a stampede of Hippogriffs.

But the key word here was: hypothetical. She never thought any of this would ever happen!

Oh God, what if he does it? What if he jumps?

OH GOD! What if he did it? What if he jumped? It'd been five minutes since she'd heard the news from Pavarti and who knows how long it was before Pavarti had learned of it herself . . .

He could be dead!

Right now!

Nothing but a stain on the sidewalk . . . and she'd never get to argue with him again! She'd never get to kiss him again! He'd rather die before officially calling her his girlfriend . . .

Not that labels ever meant anything to her – and they don't – but a girl likes to be appreciated and likes to know she's wanted and just because she's a progressive woman doesn't mean she isn't proud of her boyfri-err-person . . . and . . .

And why hasn't anyone seen him?

"Have you seen Malfoy? Draco Malfoy, have you seen him?" she cried madly.

"Who?" a young boy asked as Hermione rounded the corner to the second floor.

"WHO? Malfoy! This tall, about this big, white blond hair?" Hermione gestured frantically.

The boy shook his head. "Er, sorry, no?"

Idiot! He must be a first year. And a Hufflepuff.

Wait!

She didn't mean that.

Mostly.

"NO? Draco Malfoy! The boy who got turned into a ferret for goodness' sake!"

Even if he was a first year, that story was legend. It had to ring a - "Ohh, that guy . . ."

Hermione sighed in relief as the light of understanding dawned in the Hufflepuff's eyes. "So have you seen him?"

"Oh, no."

"Useless! All of you!" Hermione screamed as she sprinted away from the Hufflepuff without so much as a bye-your-leave.

"Stupid Gryffindor," the first year muttered under his breath as he watched Hermione's retreat. Of course he knew who Draco Malfoy was. During the first term, Malfoy had turned his homework into a cockroach and had one of his goons step on it. Rumor had it that Malfoy was now hanging precariously from a cliff by the tips of his fingers. Like he'd let a big, brave, courageous, playing-the-hero, save-the-world-obsessed Gryffindor mess that up. Or the save-the-world-obsessed-Gryffindor's bushy haired best friend.

Oh how Draco wished his parents didn't instill in him the idea that a man should never, under any circumstance, hit a woman (curse her with your wand, by all means, but never hit her). Of all the god-awful things to not teach your child, couldn't that one have made the list? But no, instead he got a crash course in Chivalry right between Bigotry 101 and Snobbery 202.

He was willing to fall. He'd be happy to, actually, just to prove that repulsive wench wrong. No one insulted Draco Malfoy like that. She would eat her words with a big giant spoon that he would shove down her throat.

He hoped she choked on it too. Such hurtful words . . . Draco was astonished by her ire. Pansy, who used to dote on him happily, now uttering such hateful slurs at him.

He'd show her, that's for sure.

The higher she climbed, the more she heard other students talking about Draco. News traveled through Hogwarts faster than the speed of light – thanks to the incredibly efficient communication network of portraits – and it wasn't long before everybody was talking about it.

She wanted nothing more than to silencio everyone she saw but couldn't waste another second, and so put up with the incessant and inaccurate snips that made it to her ears as she sped past.

" – you hear about Malfoy –"

" – he's threatening to jump –"

" – hanging from the tower, huge crowd gathered below –"

" – is that a threat or a promise? –"

" – why does he wants to kill himself?"

" – is actually a witch and is tired of pretending to be male –"

" – was running an illegal drug ring and hid the drugs in the kitchen –"

" – that explains his effeminate bone structure –"

" – was a Death Eater after all –"

" – thought the biscuits tasted funny at dinner the other night –"

" – caught Snape and McGonagall going at it in the staff room and can't rid his brain of the images –"

" – feeling guilty over killing hundreds of Muggles –"

" – robbed Gringotts after the Ministry took his family's money and –"

" – don't blame him; McGonagall's got one set of saggy –"

" – heard he was dating a Muggle-born and would rather die than tell his parents –"

Whilst the other comments made her scoff, the last one sat too close for comfort. What if he would rather die than tell his parents he was dating her? He didn't want the school to know and she agreed. They both thought telling their respective best friends was equally a bad idea as Draco valued his body and wished it to remain intact and Hermione wasn't very fond of the idea of Crabbe and/or Goyle's predictably feeble attempt to turn her into a cream puff and the inevitable messy clean up from their failure.

But what did they really have to hide? If they cared about one another (and they do) and thought that they had any sort of future together (which they planned on) then why shouldn't they be proud of their relationship? They should be able to shout it from the rooftops! Come hell, high water, Harry or Ron, she should be proud to have Draco Malfoy as her boyfriend.

Oh but she really didn't fancy having to wash custard from her hair and clothes . . .

Shaking her head to clear the images and clutching a stitch in her side, she ran on.

It certainly was high up on the tower. Draco stared over the ledge, the students roaming around the grounds looked like little ants from his angle. He spied a small gathering of ant-like students just below the tower but made nothing of it. Probably a bunch of Gryffindor girls getting ready to gossip.

"Afraid of falling . . . stupid girl," Draco scoffed, thinking of Pansy's inaccurate assessment of his character. He took off his outer cloak and let it fall to the stone floor. He picked up one foot and placed it on the ledge and followed with the other.

He looked down and gulped. A sudden sense of vertigo took over, his vision tunneled and his head felt light.

Get a grip, Malfoy!

He closed his eyes tight and shook out his arms and shoulders.

He could do this. He could fall. It was no problem.

He wasn't afraid.

There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all.

He'd been at greater heights than this. He played Seeker, after all, and Seekers were always flying at high altitudes. But that was always with the safety of his broom below him, which had a special attachment spell preventing him from slipping off.

But now, there was nothing but . . . well, now there was nothing.

Nothing but the late afternoon sky and a nice, long drop.

"Who's that up on the tower?"

"Is that Draco Malfoy?"

"What's he doing up there?"

"Do you think he's going to jump?"

"No! Do you think so?"

"I've got to tell Ernie . . ."

"He's going to kill himself!"

"Somebody call a professor!"

"No, they'll only make him come down."

"What's going on; what is everyone looking at?"

"Harry, it's Draco Malfoy – he's going to jump!"

Rounding the corner at full throttle, Hermione soon found herself nose to chest with pure, solid Weasley.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled in surprise, grabbing Hermione's arms to stable her. "I'm so glad I – that is – you ran into me! You'll never guess what I just heard."

"Ron I really don't have the time, I've got to –"

"No, you'll want to hear this! I heard that Draco Malfoy is standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, threatening to jump and kill himself!" Ron said looking positively gleeful.

Hermione smacked her palm to her forehead. The Astronomy Tower!

"I hope he does it – God knows the world'll be a better place without him. I'm heading to the base of the tower now, Hermione? HERMIONE!"

But Hermione had already taken off like the proverbial bat out of hell – headed straight for the Astronomy Tower.

The Astronomy Tower!

Of course! How completely stupid of her not to immediately think of it. It was only the tallest tower at Hogwarts, standing a whole meter above the Owlery – a fact she'd been well aware of since the first time she read Hogwarts: A History and every subsequent read thereafter!

God, what good is it to memorize an entire book like that and not recall all of its information when it proves most vital? She really had to work on her stress-induced fact recollection skills if she wanted any chance of surviving in this Evil-Wizard infested world.

"Did I miss it?" Ron asked, catching his breath as he joined Harry at the base of the tower. "Did he do it?"

"No, not yet." Harry squinted up at the top of the tower. There was definitely somebody up there, a somebody whose hair caught the sun just right, shooting a glare into his eyes. Definitely Malfoy. Only Malfoy would possess hair that had a personal vendetta against Harry Potter.

"JUMP!" Ron shouted at the top of his lungs. The crowd around him gasped, some chuckled, and other's scolded him.

"What?" Ron asked defensively. "You know you want him to do it too. I'm just trying to move the process along."

Harry merely sighed and looked back up at the tower. He wasn't really sure he wanted to see Draco's entrails splattered against the sidewalk.

But he really didn't want to be the only person at Hogwarts not to see it either. He had his wand ready – just in case.

Potter fell once. Third year, when the Dementors were about the castle. He fell pretty far. But Dumbledore had caught him.

There was no Dumbledore now to catch Draco. Actually, there was no one around at all who could catch him. No professors. No Hermione. Only tiny, ant-like students whose images Draco was currently pinching between his thumb and forefinger.

He couldn't be too sure, but he kind of thought perhaps the crowd gathered at the base of the tower was looking up at him. Watching him.

Weird.

He thought he heard one of them yell something, but the voice died on the wind. He also thought he heard pounding and yelling coming from inside the tower, but that too was lost on the wind.

This was ridiculous. He could fall. He was already on the ledge; just one small step would do it. Just one –

Suddenly he heard a loud crashing noise behind him and as he turned to see what it was, he lost his footing. "DRACO!" was the last thing he heard as he catapulted over the tower.

Oh, so this is what it's like . . .

"Oh, bloody hell. That's not fair! That's cheating! He's not supposed to have a broom! NEXT TIME MALFOY, DO IT RIGHT AND LEAVE THE BROOM AT HOME!" Ron bellowed at Malfoy, who was already shooting off into the sky and around the tower, well out of earshot.

"Did you really want to see Malfoy commit suicide, Ron?" asked Harry, who was, to be honest, fractionally disappointed that there wasn't more of a show.

"Are you telling me you didn't, Harry? Bloody buggering hell . . . Stupid ferret . . ."

Five hundred thirty six. Five hundred and thirty six steps to the top of the Astronomy Tower. After sprinting through the castle at full speed and taking the stairs two at a time, nearly killing herself from the exertion, she finally made it to the top. She could have sworn it didn't take that long to get to the top of the tower when she was taking Astronomy, but that was a long time ago and she hadn't been up to the tower since (despite Draco's insistence that it was the best place for couples to go and do things couples do).

Now nothing stood in her way of reaching Draco save for the door that led to the observation deck on the tower.

She hit the door hard, panting heavily, gasping for air, as she grabbed the doorknob and gave it a good turn.

Nothing.

She pulled instead.

Nada.

She pushed.

Zilch.

"Oh for crying out loud!" She pulled out her wand and shouted "Alohamora!"

Nil.

She tried every unlocking spell in the book. The Book. The Big Book of Breaking and Entering. The one Bill Weasley let her borrow a summer ago when she thought she might be interested in becoming a Curse Breaker.

Fat lot of good it did her now. Hermione's education was seriously disappointing her this afternoon.

Feeling rather desperate, Hermione started banging on the door crying, "Open Sesame! Open Sesame!" If it worked in Arabian Nights then it was at least worth a shot.

"Draco!" she cried, banging on the door. "Open the door! Don't jump and open the door!"

She jiggled the doorknob once more. She was even considering going so far as to swipe a Muggle credit card between the door and the frame (well, she would have if she even had a credit card) when she gave one last good turn counter clockwise on the doorknob.

It opened!

As the door crashed open, Hermione didn't even pause for a second to chastise herself for being the world's biggest idiot. She had a boyfriend-person to save!

Hermione rushed onto the observation deck just in time to watch Draco take a giant leap off the tower.

"DRACO!" Hermione screamed. She rushed to the edge of the tower and threw her body as far over the edge as she could without actually falling herself, hoping that the next thing she saw was not her boyfriend-person's bloody body marring the sidewalk below.

What struck her as odd was that she couldn't see him at all.

"Draco!" she screamed again, barely registering the muffled cheering coming from the crowd below.

Hermione's eyes scoured the sky and the distance between the tower and the ground, her brain racing a mile a minute trying to come up with any plausible scheme that would explain Draco's disappearance.

She was just about to embark on an outlandish theory that included an invisibility cloak and an impossible in-air Apparition when she felt someone's breath on her neck. "Looking for me?"

The voice caught her completely unaware and she screamed as she twisted her body to see who had frightened her. Perched like she was on the edge of the tower, it was difficult for her to retain her balance and her heart pounded within her chest as she not only realized that it was Draco floating beside her on his broom who had whispered in her ear, but also that her foot was quickly losing it's grip on the stone wall.

"Draco!" she screamed as her body tipped itself over the edge.

The wind tore at her clothes as the ground rushed up to meet her. Her eyes were tightly shut but the speed ripped tears from them as she plummeted to the ground, screaming, "Draco!" until her voice went hoarse. She expected to hit the ground at any second and if she had the ability to think clearly, she probably could have done the physics in her head, but as it was, the fear of imminent death removed all ability to think but one thing:

I'm going to die!

And just when the voices from the ground sounded as if they were right beside her ear, just when she could feel the heat of the earth competing with the cold air rushing past her, just when she thought that this was it, the end, she would die without ever being officially Draco's girlfriend . . .

"Draco!" she cried as she felt his arms wrap securely around her waist, pulling her into his lap as he tried to steer his broom from running into the crowd, which was merely two feet below.

The crowed erupted in cheers at Draco's harrowing rescue of Hermione. Hermione clung to him, her body rapidly going into shock while Draco did his best to breathe; understanding Hermione's death grip would soon (hopefully!) lessen once she calmed down. However, the shrill screaming in his ear didn't sound very promising.

When he realized that she still hadn't lessened her grip and had started hyperventilating instead, he decided that perhaps the matter extended beyond the fear of her recent fall.

"Hermione . . . Can you . . . loosen up . . . a little?" he choked out. "Can't . . . breathe."

"No," she cried into his neck, where her head was buried, her voice muffled by his shoulder and the wind. But despite her negative answer, she did release her grip just enough so that Draco could take a fortifying breath of air just in case she decided to pretend to be a vice again.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked, bringing the broom to just a hover. The crowd was still gathered below, a few had lost interest and had left, but Draco could tell he'd need Hermione's fingers and toes, including his own, to count the pairs of eyes that were trained directly on them.

"Put me down."

"What?"

"Put me down!" she shrieked.

"Hermione, stop screaming!" Draco was fairly certain there was a trickle of blood leaking out of his ear, but couldn't check because both arms were occupied with holding Hermione and making sure the broom didn't crash into the side of the castle.

Hermione lifted her face and brought her eyes to Draco's. Her nose was just centimeters from his own. "Put me down," she said calmly.

"Why?"

"Draco! I'm scared." To prove it, she tightened her arms around him and attempted to wriggle higher in his lap, as if the increased height would help her predicament. It only made him whimper as her knee hit him in the one place a knee has no place being.

"I've got you, Hermione. Nothing's going to happen. You're not going to fall." He wrapped the arm not holding on to his broom more tightly around her waist for extra assurance.

"But I did fall!" she protested.

"Yes, but that's because if the tower had any sort of sense, it would have wrapped its arms tightly around you like I have. But as an inanimate object, it clearly has no sense at all and you've got the worst sense of balance to boot and I did save you, you know?" He smirked at her, hoping that his nonsensical babbling would distract her from realizing he was flying higher into the sky and away from the crowd that was sill staring. "And don't you think I deserve some sort of reward for saving you?"

"Honestly!"

"Or I could just let you go . . ." He tipped the broom down a little.

"Draco Malfoy, don't you dare!" Hermione shrieked, doing her best impression of a vice again.

Draco was certain he'd have bruises around his ribcage later but it was worth it to have Hermione is such close proximity. She was adorable when she was scared out of her mind.

"Or else?" he asked, perking his eyebrow.

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she considered her position. She was wrapped so tightly around Draco Malfoy, she couldn't tell where she ended and he began; she also happened to be forty feet in the air and climbing, without any control over where the broom went. She was completely at his mercy. A year ago that would have been a very frightful thought indeed. Funny how things work out, isn't it?

"You know, not even Harry or Ron could convince me to go flying with them."

"I believe it goes without saying that those two nimrods lack the talent and charm it takes to handle you."

"As do you, considering it took a near death experience for me to ever join you on a broom! Or the fact that you think I should be handled at all," Hermione harrumphed.

"I'm simply opportunistic – I saw my chance, I took it, and saved your life in the meantime. Don't think I've forgotten that. Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you. You owe me, you realize? I think there's some sort of magical bond involved with a debt that has to be repaid and I fully intend on cashing in on this . . ."

But Hermione had stopped listening to him ramble. She sighed and looked out into the horizon, secretly smiling to herself as she watched the sky turn from blue to brilliant shades of orange, pink, and purple as the sun began to set.

Girlfriend.

She rather liked the sound of that. Maybe this flying thing wasn't so bad after all . . .

Bracing herself, she glanced down and noted the remaining stragglers who still looked towards her and Draco, as if they were the most riveting show.

Well, if it's a show they're looking for . . . Hermione smirked as she dipped her head to Draco, kissing him soundly on the lips.

Surprised, shocked, elated, and incredibly turned on, Draco made the most of the situation by settling Hermione comfortably in his lap so that she wasn't cutting off the circulation to anything . . . vital, angled his head for optimal lip-to-lip contact, and pointed his broom West towards the setting sun and away from the nosy on-lookers below.

Reluctantly and much to Draco's dismay, Hermione broke away from the kiss. "So why did you jump off the tower?" she asked.

Draco scowled. "Pansy. . . . She's a cow."

"I told you," Hermione said smugly, as if stating Pansy was a cow was the same as saying the sky was blue, the grass was green, or that advanced Divination was a waste of time.

Draco chuckled. "She was spreading slanderous rumors about me and my Quidditch expertise and told me I was afraid of taking risks – that I was afraid of falling and that was why Potter always beat me to the snitch."

Appalled, Hermione leaned into Draco and kissed him lovingly. Draco returned the kiss enthusiastically, thinking he could get used to this kind of comfort.

Hermione broke away from the kiss once more and Draco mourned the loss of her touch acutely. He craned his neck out, attempting to fasten his lips to hers once more but Hermione evaded his touch, laughing. "And are you afraid of falling now?" she asked, smiling.

"Not off of towers at least," he said, although Draco didn't really fancy throwing (or falling, as it were) himself off of the Astronomy Tower any time soon. The feeling of falling was like achieving complete liberation. It was almost intoxicating but not nearly as exhilarating as the feeling of complete security he felt on his broom, in the arms of the Hermione.

Draco didn't need to jump off towers to prove his courage. He didn't need to free-fall a hundred feet to prove to Pansy that he took risks. He kissed Hermione in front of a huge crowd, for crying out loud! What more could she (that is, Pansy) want?

But now, holding his girlfriend tightly to his body, looking into her beautiful eyes, as they flew off into the sunset, Draco Malfoy had the funny feeling he was already falling again. And fast.

- Fin -

"Bloody hell Harry, did you just see what I just saw? Hermione was kissing the ferret! And he didn't even have the decency to die. . . What a colossal waste of time!"

"There, there Ron," Harry said, patting his friend on the back. "It'll get worse before it gets better."

"Was that meant to be comforting?"

"No."

- Fin II -