So I had this idea for a story and I typed this up as fast as I could. A cute sort of one-shot. Can't say if it's my best work, or if I like it, for that matter. It turned out a longer than I originally intended, but I'm too lazy to shorten it. I didn't edit. If you see anything that needs fixing, let me know! This is my first Harry Potter fic. I hope it's good enough. Anyways, enjoy!

disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything affiliated. Unfortunately.

~ : expecto : patronum : ~

"Malfoy!"

The pale blonde boy groans into his pillow. He had been lounging comfortably on his bed, almost drifting off to blissful sleep, when her voice came from out of nowhere.

He rubs his eyes in his stupor, not even bothering to lift his head from its comfortable position before responding calmly, "Shut it, Granger."

He can hear her footsteps now, pounding hard against the floor. Seconds later, her fist bangs on his door.

"Seriously Malfoy, I need you to get out right now."

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

He feels like his head is about to split open. He can barely keep his eyes shut without wincing as she continues to pound on his door.

There go all his hopes of a nap.

He lifts himself off his green silk sheets, trudges over to where the Head Girl is still banging persistently, and yanks open the door.

"Honestly, Granger, you don't have to drill my ears off with that incessant knocking," he scowls, massaging his temples. "Couldn't you have just used alohomora?"

Hermione shakes her bushy brown hair and crosses her arms over her chest. She's so short that she has to tilt her head back to look him in the face. "I respect people's privacy, even if the person in question is someone as despicable as you. I, unlike you, have tact."

Draco rolls his eyes. "And I, unlike you, have common sense. I wouldn't be calling someone who will go through such a trivial procedure as knocking on someone's door the cleverest witch of her age."

She attempts to step on his toe, but he thinks ahead of her and casually flicks his wand so that her foot lands a good distance away from her target.

"And also," he continues, smirking slightly now, "you could have just hexed me." Oh, how he enjoys getting on her nerves. She always gets that bright pink flush across her cheeks that makes him feel jittery and giddy all over. He knows he shouldn't feel this way about a muggle born, but he brushes the thought aside, blaming it on his drowsy mind.

"Why are so damn annoying?"

"Language, Granger."

She narrows her eyes and glances hurriedly at her watch. "You are on a very fine line right now, Ferret. I'd watch it if I were you."

Draco simply smirks more.

"We'd better hurry, too, or we'll be late. I shudder to think about what Professor McGonagall would give us as a punishment."

He snorts. "Who the hell cares? I'm tired, Granger. The Slytherin Quidditch team is absolute rubbish this year and I had to extend practice today, not that an extra hour's going to help us win the House Cup. If whatever you're talking about is so important, could you get on with it before I pass out completely? It's aggravating."

"We have Head duties in ten minutes, you prat, and I suggest you get your arse out of bed right now before we both get in trouble."

"We don't have Head duties on Thursdays."

Hermione rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Did you not listen to anything Professor McGonagall told us? Are you honestly that thick headed? Walter Finch and Elise Perks are in the hospital wing right now. They'll be fine and in their classes tomorrow, but apparently Madam Pomfrey wants them to stay the night. You know how she can get paranoid sometimes about our health."

Draco throws her an inquiring look. "Walter and Elise forgot to take their potion off the fire and added too much asphodel and their cauldron exploded," she explains.

"Fucking Hufflepuffs."

She fights the urge to scoff and checks her watch again, jumping a bit when she realizes how late they are. "Merlin, we'd better get going. We'll be late if we don't. Look, will you grab my cloak for me? I left my wand in my room."

"We're patrolling the corridors, not going out to the Forbidden Forest. Last time I checked, that was indoors."

The frizzy haired brunette emerges from her room, brandishing her wand. "It's January and the castle's cold. I don't care about you, but I don't want to catch pneumonia."

"What the hell is that?"

"Let's go."

How could she have forgotten? Seven full years in the wizarding world she still can't remember that magical folk don't worry about pesky little diseases like pneumonia. No, no, wizards and witches catch muglumps and all other sorts of odd diseases that make their noses swell to disproportionate sizes or their skin to be covered with rashes that somehow seemed to bite their fingers if they scratched them.

Hermione had been right to bring her cloak. The dark corridors are freezing and she quickly wraps the black fabric around herself for warmth.

Draco Malfoy is left to try his best to hide his shivers and try to absorb as much heat from his lantern as humanely possible. Granger looks so disgustingly warm and comfortable in her bloody cloak that he just wants to strangle her.

She catches sight of his pained expression and smirks. "Cold, Malfoy?"

He jerks his head quickly, his lips pressing together in a thin line.

"Oh, I'm not cold either. It's so incredibly comfy being bundled up in this warm and soft traveling cloak. I can't possibly imagine how you'd handle it, Draco." She's taunting him, and he fights a mad desire to punch her. Then, "Maybe you're just so cold blooded and heartless that you can't even catch a cold anymore."

"Doesn't bother me, Granger. Don't even try."

"Well, sorry."

The Gryffindor girl is so engaged in the conversation that she nearly bumps headlong into a suit of armor masked by darkness. She promptly gives a little yelp in surprise. "Merlin, I wish that this stupid lantern would light up more. Lumos!" At once, the tip of her wand lights up brightly, though the effect is far from what she had hoped for. She gives it a childish sort of wave, and Draco snorts.

"Here, I'll give it a try, too," he says genuinely, honestly wanting some light in the hallway. He murmurs a quick, "Lumos!" and his wand lights up as well.

"I guess that's a bit better," Hermione manages, squinting her eyes as she peers down the corridor. "I'm pretty sure I didn't see that portrait before, but that may just be because we probably walked a few steps while casting the spells." She points at a portrait of three elderly wizards seated around a table. They look as though they've been drinking a bit too much firewhiskey, which Draco finds extremely disturbing. Their arms are wrapped around each other as they sway from side to side. Hermione giggles.

They continue to stride down the hall, passing a group of third year students and warning them that curfew was in ten minutes. Hermione remains deep in thought, and, as they pass the bust of Gambalin the Gruesome, lights up and grins at her partner.

"Expecto patronum!"

The familiar silver otter bursts out of the tip of her wand, and she nearly grins at the sight of it, despite being next to Draco Malfoy. Hermione feels warmth instantly rush over her, all the way from her toes to her fingertips, and she lets her cloak slip off her shoulders a bit, no longer needing it. The hallway is illuminated. She smirks at Malfoy.

"Here, get out your wand."

The blonde Slytherin suddenly bites his lip. What was wrong with him? "I'd… rather not."

"It's just a Patronus, Malfoy. Besides, you look dead cold, and it makes you feel warm all over. It's a win win, honestly."

"I just don't think it'd be a good idea to cast my Patronus."

"Why?"

He hesitates, eyeing Hermione cautiously. She can see from the light of her Patronus that a pink tinge has spread across his cheeks. "Becauseitsbloodyembarrassing ."

"Pardon?"

"It's embarrassing," he says, raising his voice. She looks shocked for a second, before regaining her composure and smirking satisfactorily at him. He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly nervous.

"Aw, come on Malfoy; what is it, a bunny?"

"No."

"A gerbil?"

"No."

She's definitely smirking now. "Just cast the spell. I won't bite."

"No."

"Please?"

"Bloody hell, no, Granger." His face is redder than she's ever seen it to be. It's such an adorable sight that she can't help but smile.

"I'll make you hot chocolate when we get back to the common room," she wheedles. "It's cold and my hot chocolate is, if I may be frank, delicious."

"Granger," he says, "I really don't want to do this."

But she's curious now, dreadfully curious, because whatever he's hiding must be something worth seeing. She elbows him in the ribs. He winces, and she takes particular satisfaction out of his pain. She elbows him again. And again, until they've stopped walking and he backs away from her. Bloody coward.

"Fine," he growls, raising his pale hands in defeat. "Promise not to laugh?"

"Did you seriously just ask me to pro—?"

"Granger, just say it."

"I promise." Hermione bites her lip to fight her mad desire to laugh in his face. Still, she remains sincere.

"Okay." He takes a deep breath and throws a quick glance in her direction. She quirks an eyebrow, still amused by the situation. "Expecto patronum."

And all of a sudden she understands. She understands as the long, sleek body flows out of his wand. She can identify his Patronus immediately. The tiny nose, the beady eyes. The furry little tail and the tiny bumps that were its ears.

It takes awhile for the fact to completely register in her head. She spends a solid thirty seconds staring at the animal in blank shock. Malfoy is watching her apprehensively, not daring to move.

And then Hermione's mouth twitches and all hell breaks loose. The Gryffindor bursts out in uncontrollable laughter, and her bloody otter Patronus glows and does a flip. Her eyes widen and she frantically clutches her mouth with a hand, attempting to stifle the sound to no avail. Her stomach hurts. She's doubled over. She's gasping for breath between the bouts of laughing. Malfoy shifts uncomfortably in his spot.

"You promised you wouldn't laugh!" he whines, mortified.

"Can you really blame me, Malfoy?" Hermione wheezes, still grinning madly. "Your. Patronus. Is. A. Ferret. Oh, Merlin, this is rich!"

"Shut up," he mumbles. He stares fixedly at the ground.

"But it's so cute!" she teases. It's true: the little snout of a nose and the imprints around its face are adorable.

"I… I've been t-told…"

The whole situation is bothering him quite a bit; his face is now a brilliant shade of red, and she stops for a moment. After catching her breath, she says, "Okay, okay, I get it; it's mortifying. Can I just ask why? I mean, I would expect that you of all people would hate ferrets, after that instance with Professor Moody."

"Yeah… that." He grimaces at the memory. "I was really shocked when that happened. I always liked ferrets for some reason. They were sleek and smooth and reasonably well-groomed…"

Hermione giggles.

"Anyways," Draco continues with attempted dignity, "when I was little I had two pet ferrets that I kept in my room. So naturally when Moody turned me into a ferret I was shocked. I suppose I sort of resemble one, with my smooth hair and such."

At these words he quickly runs a pale hand through his silky blonde hair, smirking slightly.

"Then a year later I learned how to cast a Patronus. I was shocked. It was a bloody ferret, a constant reminder of the most embarrassing moment I've ever had at Hogwarts… though this is giving it a run for its money," he adds as an afterthought. "I'm afraid to cast my Patronus around anyone; there were lots of people outside that day, Granger. It really sucks, you know? I tried to change it, but it just won't happen. I suppose a subconscious part of my still likes ferrets, which is bloody screwed up because I'm mortified every time I cast a spell that should be making me… happy."

He finishes rather lamely, glancing at her warily out of the corner of his eye, gnawing at his lips nervously, a gesture that she's never seen him do. She lets out a breath. It's so real, so human, so un-Malfoy-ish. It's so… normal. She just wants to revel in the moment.

Did they really just have a normal conversation? Did he really just confide in her?

Wow.

"You do realize, Granger, that if you tell anybody about this, that I will hex you into oblivion."

Hermione is pulled out of her trance. He stares at her seriously.

She bursts out laughing again.

"S-S-Sorry!" she gasps. "I just can't help it."

He stands there awkwardly, watching her as she laughs, harder and harder and harder. It takes a good five minutes before she can get the worst bit out of her system, and even then she's chuckling and giggling and wiping her eyes and clutching her stomach.

Hermione smirks up at him. "I won't tell anybody."

He visibly relaxes.

"But if you do anything that bugs me like the prick you are, I'll have the perfect form of revenge. Do we understand?"

He tenses, gulps, and nods jerkily.

"Good. Now come on, Draco, let's go back to the common room and have some hot chocolate," she singsongs.

"Since when were we on first-name terms?"

"Since I said so. And I don't think you have the privilege to argue." She takes the liberty of smirking at him again, and skips off. The silver otter glows even brighter than before. She is in a good mood.

With an audible groan, Draco trudges after her. She's going to be hanging this over his head for the rest of the year, he just knows it.

Nothing eventful happens on the way back to their common room, which they shared as Head Boy and Girl. They pass a Ravenclaw couple snogging rather noisily behind a tapestry and scold them a bit, but that's about the extent of it. They walk in silence for the most part, Hermione grinning like a maniac, Draco hanging his head in shame, until they finally reach their portrait: a man dressed in snowy white robes eating grapes.

"Tempora mores." With a wink, the portrait swings open and they step into the warm, dimly lit room.

Hermione, of course, rushes straight to the tiny kitchen that they have set up and rifles through the cabinets for chocolate powder that she brought from some muggle convenience store and a large slab of Honeyduke's 70% dark chocolate. In a matter of minutes, the bubbling sound of boiling water is heard and a smell of rich chocolate lingers in the air. Draco curls on the couch with a book and sits in silence. He won't drink that foul muggle concoction. He's perfectly satisfied with his usual steaming mug of earl grey tea, thank you very much. So the Slytherin rises from his spot, shuffles to the kitchen, and boils a bit of water that hasn't yet been contaminated with muggle products. He fixes up his tea, adds the amount of cream and sugar that he likes, and settles back down with his book; it's a rather interesting one too. Naturally, when Hermione sets a mug of hot chocolate down for him he doesn't touch it, and sips his tea instead in dignified silence. (The Patronus incident is still fresh in his mind.) And naturally, Hermione looks incredibly affronted and nags him to try some until he grudgingly takes a sip. He says that it's the most foul thing that he's ever tasted, but his lip twitches still. It's delicious. Delicious. Much better than his tea.

He waits until midnight, when Hermione has finished studying and heads off to bed, before reaching for the mug again. It's cold now, but with a simple heating spell it's as good as new. Then, with a small shrug, he conjures his Patronus too, but only when he can hear the sound of Hermione's deep breathing to ensure that she is asleep. The ferret crawls over in the air and watches him as he carries on reading his arithmancy book. It's one of his favorite subjects.