Hermione kicked him in her sleep. He grunted and rolled over, squinting through his headache at the clock on the bedside table. The time didn't register for twenty seconds as he stared at it until he realized that it read 8:12. He had transfiguration in eighteen minutes. Draco grunted again and rolled over, until the thought kicked in that he had transfiguration in eighteen minutes, and Professor McGonagall had threatened to fail him if he was late one more time that semester. He groaned as his hangover kicked him in the stomach and head simultaneously as he thought about splashing his face, dressing, and running to transfiguration in order to get there with some semblance of punctuality. He had almost decided that he could plead illness with McGonagall, and blackmail Hermione into supporting his lie, when Hermione kicked him again and said, "It's Thursday, you're supposed to be in Transfiguration. Get out of bed."

He turned to sneer at her and she glared at him. She gripped the blankets tight and rolled away from him, taking all of the covers with her. He yelped at the cold and was out of the bed within seconds. Once on his feet, he moved quick. He grabbed the shirt he'd worn yesterday since it was still buttoned and a fresh pair of trousers, threw his tie around his shoulders with a half-hearted idea of tying it on the way, and shoved his feet into his boots. Hermione's unceremonious uprooting from the bed had him shivering and he snagged a scarf on the way out the door with his bag over his shoulder.

Sprinting across the castle, he garnered the laughter of several fourth-years who were idling on the stairwell before their first class, and heard titters from at least a dozen paintings. He ignored it, figuring that his rumpled appearance would be enough to get snickers out of most anyone in the school. He didn't care what they thought anyways.

He skidded into the Transfiguration classroom and sat down just as the clock struck 8:30. Professor McGonagall gave him a sour look and rolled her eyes. "I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Malfoy, but wearing the colors of my house will not win you any points with me."

Draco stared at her dumbly and looked down at his clothing. He'd later congratulate himself for realizing it sooner than Hermione had that he was wearing the wrong colors, but for the moment, he grit his teeth to see scarlet and gold. The rest of the class tittered, though fell silent after Professor McGonagall shot them a warning look. She gave Draco a questioning look. Draco made a snap decision and tossed the long end of his scarf over his shoulder, settling it snuggly against his neck. "I didn't wear it to impress you, Professor," he said, "but thank you for noticing, all the same."

She stared at him and he would swear he saw her lip twitch. She turned away and began the lesson without another word.

Draco knew he had to keep it up throughout the day to prevent Hermione from feeling awful about her mishap over a month ago, even though it went against every fiber of his being to do so. Protecting someone else's feelings was not exactly his forte, especially when Potter went out of his way to cross paths with him and had a fresh, snarky comment each time. By the time dinner rolled around, he hadn't seen Hermione, but he'd seen Potter and the Weasel six times, and what seemed like every member of his house had laughed at him. His headache had only gotten worse over the course of the day, and his stomach had refused sustenance of any kind until after lunch. He was starving, humiliated, and in pain. No wonder Hermione had hated wearing his.

He plopped down at his seat for dinner and rubbed his face with his hands. Across from him, Blaise pointed his fork full of potatoes at him and said, "You're bloody over the moon for this girl, mate."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Draco muttered.

Blaise laughed. "I really can't believe you've worn it all day," he emphasized. Draco glared at him. "I mean, I saw you notice it in Transfiguration, I thought you were just putting on a show for McGonagall and you'd take it off right after, but you're still wearing the damn thing! That's balls."

Draco shrugged and served himself dinner. He had a free seat on either side of him and that annoyed him even more. For Salazar's sake, he wasn't contagious! He heard footsteps behind him and wished more than anything that it was Hermione, come to relieve him of this forsaken knit thing, but the steps were wrong. Sure enough, he turned to find Professor Snape looking down his nose at Draco.

"Twenty-five points from Slytherin for improper dress code," he said tonelessly, lifting one brow at Draco.

Draco stared at him, incensed, but grit his teeth and turned back to his dinner. One of the Slytherin beaters leaned over from two seats down and purposely spat in his food, keeping eye contact with Draco the entire time. Draco knew the eyes of every professor were on him and that any retaliation would end with him in detention for a week. He'd get the bastard back within days, but for now, he put down his fork and stormed out of the hall.

He slammed into the Head Students' lounge, aiming straight for the bedroom he'd been sharing with Hermione. She was going to get a tongue-lashing the likes of which had never before been seen in the castle. He stopped short with his hand on the doorknob when he realized the candles in the room were dim. He turned toward the fireplace on the opposite end of the room to find Hermione smiling at him. Her hair was done up and she was wearing a dress, and she'd transfigured their coffee table and two overstuffed arm chairs into a small, intimate dining table fit for a French restaurant. There were two place settings and a platter of food on the table, and a bottle of wine. He dropped his book bag.

He cracked a grin. "How did you manage to get wine?"

Hermione laughed. "You underestimate me."

"You transfigured it," he guessed. She shrugged. "That's against the rules, Miss Granger."

Her smile turned devilish. She loved the tone he took when he called her Miss Granger. She shook her head and said, "I thought you'd be hungry. You didn't eat at lunch."

"No, my stomach was still turning from last night," he replied. He shrugged out of his robes and tossed them on the back of the sofa, unwound her scarf from his neck with a glare in its direction, and pulled off his tie.

She stood to meet him and put her arms around his neck. "You didn't have to do that," she whispered, kissing his cheek softly.

He deflated into her arms and buried his face in her hair. He'd had the scent of her shampoo in his nose all day by way of the scarf, but it was still nothing compared to the real thing. "I didn't do it on purpose, at first, at least," he admitted.

"I know," she said. "Blaise told me you noticed it first thing in Transfiguration."

Draco made a mental note to break Blaise's nose.

"He also told me what happened all day today," she continued. "I guessed you wouldn't be able to stay in the hall for dinner, so I set this up for us. We haven't had a night in to ourselves for a few weeks anyways."

"This is true," he said. His headache seemed to be going away and he made note of the incense lit above the fireplace. "Lavender?" She nodded. He leaned in and kissed her. "You are amazing."

"You deserve it," she replied, giving him a squeeze. She pulled away and sat down at the table. He followed suit. She vanished the cover over the platter and it was, naturally, his favorite. Hermione could convince the house elves to do anything, once she set her mind to it.

Draco looked at her over the candles she'd lit and reached for her hand. She gave it. "I don't think I properly realized it until today, but Hermione," he paused, the words sputtering in his mouth. He closed his mouth and eyes, wanting to get it right on the first try. He opened them and she was waiting patiently, staring at him with wide eyes and he imagined her mouth had gone dry. "I love you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled and squeezed his hand. "I love you, too, Draco," she whispered, afraid her voice would break if she were any louder.

He pressed his lips to her knuckles and broke into a predatory smile. "I'm starved, but after dinner, I'm going to prove what I said." He set his teeth gently into her hand.

She blushed and grinned at the same time. "Hurry up and eat then."

this is probably the fluffiest piece of fluff I've ever fluffed

you're welcome

edit: fudge I seriously wrote this in like ten minutes and put in Trelawney instead of McGonagall, fixed it.