I Learned Your Pulse

"You did it again," Hermione accused.

Draco, sitting next to her, smiled. "Saved your arse with a few supporting cheers? I am good."

Hermione smiled, too, relaxing back into the loveseat as she scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment. Draco watched her intently, looking occassionally at the words she wrote.

"You know that's not due until Thursday," he said, pointing to the essay she was working on.

"With me, Draco, it might as well be due in an hour."

"What's that to mean?" he asked, curious.

Her smile widened. "I'm not waiting until the last minute."

"I don't," he defended immediately.

"You do," she argued. "Do you even know what this essay is about?"

He thought for a moment. "Erm... the... the..."

She grinned triumphantly. "I didn't think so."

"I wouldn't have to know if someone would do it for me," he said, leaning back as well, his eyes trained on her faintly flushed face.

She snorted and placed her quill down. "You're smart enough not to need me to do it."

"Two responses," said Draco. "One - gee, thanks. Two - who said anything about you doing it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Who else would you be talking about?"

"Maybe Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw, right?"

Hermione gave him a look. "That doesn't automatically make her a homework slave."

"You being a nerd doesn't make you an automatic homework slave, but you are."

"Hey!" she laughed, taking a small cushion and hitting him in the head with it. "I'm nobody's slave!"

"What's this?" asked Blaise, sitting down. "Slave? To who? For what?"

Hermione flushed red. "Nobody, and homework." Embarrassed, she picked up her quill and resumed writing.

"You were Weasley's slave for six years, Hermione," said Draco jokingly.

Her quill went straight through the parchment and she rose immediately, glaring at him, gritting her teeth against ready-to-fly insults before she slammed the door behind her as she entered the girls' dormitory.

"What did I say?" asked Draco, confused and a little upset. What had he said that was so bad? Only that she'd been Weasley's slave for six yea... Sweet Salazar, he was an idiot. It sounded like a romantic slave, and for six years, to her ex-boyfriend who'd kissed another girl in front of her. He slapped himself with force, leaving his cheek stinging. "Damn, I'm stupid."

Blaise nodded, having come to the same conclusion. "Yep, you are." He glanced toward the window. "Getting dark. Don't you and Hermione have patrol?"

"Damn," Draco said again, slapping his other cheek. Blaise laughed.

"Don't beat yourself up," he joked. Standing from his seat, he clapped Draco on the shoulder. "You gonna talk to her, or...?"

"I'll patrol without her," he said straightaway. "She doesn't need to see the likesof me anytime soon."

Blaise gave him an odd look, as if knowing soemthing Draco didn't.

"What?" he demanded.

Blaise shook his head. "Get over Pansy, mate."