Yess, I wrote another one-shot! Though I haven't ever tried this pairing before. If Pal the Bad Ass (who some of you will know from Bodyguard) sees this, she will roll her eyes at me until they fall out. She doesn't approve of Dramione. Hmph! Shows what she knows. (Which is quite a lot actually, but whatever.)

Now let's see, I don't own anything you recognize. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling.

Well, then. Have fun!

Hermione hadn't meant to do it. She hadn't meant to fall in love with Draco Malfoy. Of course, nobody blamed her, not initially of course. Considering it was all the fault of whoever had slipped that blasted love potion into her morning pumpkin juice. Because Merlin forbid they ever targeted the orange juice or perhaps the lemonade.

It was always the pumpkin juice, she noted sagely. Best to swear off it now before it caused further damage and general chaos.

It had started innocently enough. She'd been reading her personal copy of the Daily Prophet and enjoying a peaceful breakfast consisting of waffles (the breakfast food of the Gods) drenched in copious amounts of syrup.

And then she'd taken a sip from that twice accursed goblet of poisonous mischief. She didn't remember much of what happened afterwards. (Well, okay, she remembered all of it but it was so excruciatingly embarrassing that she'd really rather just hex herself than admit to having any memories whatsoever of what had followed.)

As Draco Malfoy had risen with the grace of a thousand peacocks from the Slytherin table, her head had snapped up, eyes wide, to follow his progress. She'd watched as he'd walked in puddles of sunshine to reach the doors. She was barely conscious of rising to her feet, a strange heat suffusing her face and neck.

"'Mione?" said the redheaded boy next to her, who's name she was forgetting. She noted distastefully for a second that his mouth was stuffed to overflowing with scrambled eggs and then promptly forgot all about it.

She was in quest of higher pursuits, after all. She floated till the door, through which the lovely apparition had drifted, a dreamy smile gracing her features as she contemplated the possibility of perhaps following the God-like persona to his private chambers.

Instantly, she flushed at her own audaciousness. Such outrageous thoughts! As if such an angelic specter would ever grace her with his lordly attentions.

And so Hermione floated after him, not bothering to conceal her presence, hoping in fact, that the man –was he merely a man?- in front of her would notice her, would grace her with his golden words.

She could barely contain the thrill of excitement that ran through her when he did just that. He stopped abruptly and she collided with his back, bouncing off as if he were made of clouds and hope.

He whipped around with amazing grace and drew forth a wand, pointing it at her with loving care.

She smiled up at him from her vantage point on the ground, where she had apparently landed.

He eyed her suspiciously- no not suspiciously, surely that was a loving gaze? Of course it was- and brandished the object in his hand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded forcefully. Hermione nearly swooned.

Well, okay, she did swoon. The Master of Loveliness, Draco Malfoy took a hasty step backwards at the expression on her face.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, this time wondrous notes of confusion and anger suffusing the suspicion-err, love in his tone.

"Nothing," she purred happily, smiling like the kneazle that got the pixie. "I'm just perfect."

Her lordly love took another step backwards, alarm spreading over his dainty features. She shuffled forwards on her bum till she was within sniffing distance of him.

His manly scent wafted over her in waves of unadulterated perfection. Hmm, peppermint and parchment and top notes of an indescribable something that made her squirm with delight.

Realizing she was drooling, Hermione wiped the corner of her mouth, continuing to gaze up at her personal sun with unending adoration in her unworthy eyes.

The Love of her Life had by now graduated from alarm to horror (surely horror at her predicament, seeing as she was on the ground and therefore much too far away from his lovely lips) and was edging away rapidly, waving the wand in his grasp around as gracefully as the conductor of an orchestra. Hermione's heartstrings twinged in response with the melody of love.

He appeared to be far too distressed by her presence to remain in it any further and turned to run. Hermione sympathized fully. After all, she loved him- yes, she realized with a jolt, loved him- so that every moment spent in his presence and yet not in his arms was as painful for her as it clearly was for him.

With this thought in mind and another of rectifying the situation instantly, she dashed after Venus' consort on legs of loving fury.


Hermione had skulked outside of the Slytherin common room for two hours to no avail. Her soulmate had emerged briefly at one point, only to dash back inside, looking decidedly green. (Though it was, of course, a very lovely green, Hermione thought charitably.)

Other inconsequential beings had emerged through the door and disappeared various times, though Hermione had paid them and their jealous sniggering no mind. She did not even worry about the Potions lesson she was missing as she was sure that Professor Snape would understand the power of young love over the adolescent mind and would not begrudge her this one time playing hooky.

After all, what was a paltry potions class when compared to the gleam of the thousand suns and moons that made up her beloved?

But after another hour passed, Hermione relented and slumped off to the loo and from there to her next class, which was Transfiguration. She did after all, have the class with the seventh year Slytherins. Lord Malfoy was sure to be there.

With this thought in mind, she drifted agreeably enough into Professor Mcgonagall's classroom. She was instantly pounced upon by the redhead from earlier in the day and a boy with strangely familiar black hair and ridiculous looking glasses.

"'Mione!" The redhead exclaimed, looking at her with a gratuitous amount of concern. She craned her neck to look around him, wondering if perfection had yet decided to grace the room with its presence.

"Where have you been? We've been worried sick!" She spared a momentary glance at the two boys who were blocking her view and something clicked within her mind.

Of course. They were her friends, were they not? In which case…

"Harry! Ron!" she looked at them with greater interest than she had shown all day. Perhaps they were friendly with Malfoy? Perhaps they could nudge him in her direction? Her pulse fluttered at the very thought.

Harry and Ron, as she now recognized them, were staring at her with twin looks of relief.

"Where have you been, Hermione?" Harry asked again. "You missed potions! Snape was delighted. He told me to tell you that you'll be scrubbing cauldrons and sorting out pickled beetles for a month."

Hermione waved a hand. "I don't care about that anymore Harry."

She glanced at him and sniffed disapprovingly. "And no need to look so gobsmacked. I'm merely in love is all."

Ron choked on the air around him and Harry's jaw dropped. But Hermione could care less. For at that very moment, the most beautiful- nay, the most handsome- creature in the world walked through the door. His golden hair glistened like the tops of the clouds when the day was new and his lovely pale complexion put to shame legions of porcelain crockery. His slate-grey eyes shone like….Hermione wracked her brains for a suitable comparison….like the stormy sea in the throes of a storm; a storm of passion.

She left behind her erstwhile companions and positively bounded towards the mirror image of heaven. His eyes widened when he saw her coming and he lurched backwards on coltish legs. He turned and sprinted off and she followed, thoughts of Transfiguration fleeing from her mind as if they'd been exorcised.

He leapt over the ground like a gazelle and she followed, fancying herself as a lioness perhaps. She gained ground quickly and then, when the moment was right, pounced. Down they went, lying on the ground in a tangled heap and she rested her head against his back with a sigh of wondrous contentment.

"Oh, Draco."

He stiffened as he realized their compromising position and attempted to get up. She tightened her arms, unwilling to relinquish her grasp on him. There proceeded a silent tug-of-war except that both parties involved were pushing, rather than pulling. (He was attempting for some inane reason, to push her off and she was attempting to hold on and accomplishing this by pressing herself against his back and holding on tenaciously).

Finally, with a Herculean effort, he tossed her off and she landed beside him, winded.

"What," he snarled furiously, showing off his perfect canines, "in Salazar's name are you doing, woman? Do you want to die?"

"Of happiness, yes!" Hermione answered quickly. "Hold me in your arms Draco!"

"Stop saying my name!" he snapped. "And what the bollocks is wrong with you?!"

"If it's a crime to be in love," Hermione declared, her words slurring slightly with passion, "then send me to Azkaban!"

Draco's face drained of remaining colour as her words hit him. She smiled at him with hope in her eyes and discreetly breathed against her palm to check the odour. Hmm. Pepperminty fresh. Good.

And then before he could scramble to his feet and escape- err, retreat- Hermione grabbed him by his lapels and his tie and pulled him to her.

If words would not convince him, then it was time for action.

For the longest moment, he remained frozen against her as she kissed him. Then, slowly, he pushed her off him and stood up.

"Granger," he said, voice rasping and an odd light dancing in his beautiful eyes. "Come with me."


Twenty minutes later, Hermione was sitting in Professor Snape's office, staring down at her knees in mortification. Heck, mortification was an understatement. It was her own personal hell.

She chanced a glance at her Professor and found him still smirking, a vindictive pleasure in his eyes.

"Fifty points, I think, Miss Granger, for assaulting one of my students. Another ten for being foolish enough to consume a drink clearly laced with a love potion and a week's worth of detention for missing my class and disrupting my leisure time."

Right. Leisure time. Because Snape clearly did so much relaxing in between classes. She pictured him listening to Celestina Warbeck records and ballroom dancing with an invisible partner, glass of wine clutched in his hand.

She disguised the giggle that rose to her throat with a hasty cough.

Focus, Hermione. Worst day of your life currently in progress.

Snape's eyes were still glinting when he dismissed her a few seconds later with a curt "Leave."

She scampered out of there as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels and when the heavy door had thudded shut behind her, she could have almost sworn that she heard the rich sound of undisguised mirth.


Hermione hid in her room for the rest of the day. Her concerned best friends sent up Dobby with food during mealtimes. Hermione thought she might scream when even the elf was unable to completely hide his amusement at her predicament. After all, news travelled at the pace of a speeding rocket in Hogwarts.

Mortifying memories rose to the fore of her mind where she tried unsuccessfully to crush them beneath a mental hammer. The horror of what she'd done trickling into her when the antidote had taken effect. The bemused and still terrified visage of Malfoy as she'd returned to normal and then his swift departure shortly thereafter.

And then Professor Snape- Snape- laughing at her. Laughing! Snape! At her!


Oh, Merlin. She'd kissed Malfoy. No, she'd assaulted him. He was never going to let her live this down. She thought miserably of how even now the members of Slytherin house would be making badges about her, composing embarrassing songs perhaps. Probably even spiking her food for the next few months.

She resolved immediately to tread the Mad-Eye path. (Though preferably with the various parts of her body still intact.)

She shuddered and briefly contemplated creating a bottomless pit she could toss herself into.


It's okay, Hermione, she told herself as she walked to her doom. You're brilliant! You're smart! You're….oh, bugger it, you're screwed.

Shielded between Ron and Harry, Hermione walked into the Great Hall the way an innocent man would walk towards the gallows he'd been wrongly condemned to.

Whispers and giggles washed across the four tables like a tsunami when she entered. Snape smiled almost happily where he sat. Surely the world was breaking apart.

She dared not look towards the Slytherin table as she took her usual seat and buried herself beneath a strategically positioned Daily Prophet.

This time, Hermione performed eight different revealing spells on her food and pumpkin juice before pronouncing them fit for consumption.


She left the Great Hall with considerable relief. Harry and Ron waved solemn goodbyes to her as they left for Quidditch practice.

"We'll be back soon, Hermione," Ron pronounced gravely.

"Yes," Harry said with a straight face. "Soon."

Hermione's eye twitched as she wondered whether they were being overly serious in order to disguise their need to laugh at her. They hastened away before she could hit them with a good Entomorphis hex. They could laugh all they wanted when they were scuttling around as tiny beetles.

Sighing despondently, she turned towards the library, looking forward to hopefully tipping over a shelf of oversized tomes and being caught in the landslide.

Just as she was contemplating this cheering prospect, she bumped headfirst into something solid.

"Ouch," she grasped her head, dropping her satchel. "Sorry," she muttered, looking up.

Hermione froze. Of course. It had to be Malfoy. Of all people.

Quick! Her brain prompted her. Say something intelligent! Apologize!

"Guh," said Hermione.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you spoke Troll, Granger."


He frowned at her.

Then, evidently remembering something pressing, he said brightly, "You're a terrible kisser, by the way. Did you know?"

Hermione's neural synapses fired at once out of sheer indignation. "No I'm not!" she snapped. "It's your fault for sitting there like a dumb statue!"

She clapped a hand to her mouth as soon as the words were out.


"Whatever you say, Granger," Malfoy drawled, apparently disgusted.

He stalked around her and Hermione sighed audibly, relieved that it was over. He hadn't attempted to strangle her even once!
She was about to bend to pick up her bag when she heard a rustle behind her and without warning, a warm hand grasped hers and spun her around.

She collided with Malfoy's chest and spat out a mouthful of green tie.


He cut her off with a kiss. A kiss that curled her toes.

Grasping her waist, he pulled her against him and she clenched her hands where they were resting on his shoulders. He pushed past her lips instantly and Hermione's knees nearly buckled from the combination of shock and pleasure.

Warning signals were going off in her head, warring with the explosions of colour behind her eyelids. She ignored both and sighed into the kiss, angling her head and moving her arms up to wind them around Malfoy's neck, threading the fingers of one hand through his soft hair.

Abruptly, he pulled away and both warning bells and explosions of any sort ceased activity immediately.

Instead, she felt mortification creeping up again, except this time it wasn't quite as humiliating…

Malfoy smirked at her as he stepped away, tugging his tie back into position. "Now we're even."

He turned around and stalked off. Hermione was pretty sure her jaw had dropped.

Ten steps away from her, he paused briefly, tossing her a glance over his shoulder. "Two things Granger. One, you are not to mention this to anyone ever or you will suffer a gruesome end. Understand?"

Hermione spluttered in indignation, gearing up to tell him that he ought to be the one to watch out.

"Two," he said before she could launch into a tirade. "You were right. You're not bad at all."

And with a last, decidedly evil grin, he walked away.

Hermione grappled with her shock for a few moments before motor functions returned.

That, she thought as she wandered away, had happened only because of pumpkin juice. Yes. It was all the fault of that damnable, wicked drink called pumpkin juice.


I apologize for my writing which is basically as rusty as a metal object that has been left lying around for about twenty million years. And yes, I know, they didn't ride off into the sunset. But a good snog is better than a sunset, if you ask me...

Okay, well, I have never before attempted Dramione, so I do hope you like it. Leave a review to let me know what you think!

(And for those of you who remember PTBA, check out her fic Royalty.)