To Sleep, Perchance to Wet Dream…

Part Four: To Sleep, Perchance to Wet Dream

Frank struggled manfully to stay awake. It was late Friday afternoon at the Department of Misuse, and most everyone had gone home. Not that it made a difference to him. In addition to compelling him to lie so outrageously to Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy had insisted that neither he nor Mr. Zabini could spread share gossip information of any sort for three whole workdays. No small talk. No chitchat. No tête-à-têtes. No palaver. No gabfest. Frank was, frankly, bored out of his bottle.

Mr. Zabini suspected (rightly) that Mr. Malfoy didn't really care about their gossiping, but had elicited the agreement out of spite. Frank was inclined to agree, but hesitated to say so because he didn't know Mr. Malfoy that well and because he was forbidden to... speculate. Having ruminated on his intolerable situation once too often for his weary brain, Frank was caught by sleep unaware.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hallo, Frank. How was your weekend?"

"Wonderful, Ms. Granger. There was some trouble with exploding toilet seats in Bath, so a squad of Aurors held a tactical meeting here in the break room."

"How exciting," Hermione replied.

"Well, a bit more than Friday, anyhow," burbled Frank with a wry twist of his cap ring.

"But less than Tuesday," Hermione teased.

"Err... yes... well," Frank gurgled. "Have a good read, Ms. Granger."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After her break, Hermione returned to her desk and got right to work. She felt completely rested and exceptionally focused. It was as if Malfoy never existed. Had she known kissing him would be such an effective way to dissipate her irritation and keep him out of her hair, she would have started doing it years ago. That third year at Hogwarts would have been much less tense.

Hermione neatly stacked the new report and accompanying files in the outbox on her desk. They promptly vanished to the inbox on Ernie's desk in his office across the department. She reached over to take the paperwork out of her inbox and hesitated, spying the Kiss resting on top.

Viktor must have owled it to her. Hermione was looking forward to visiting with him and his wife in Paris the weekend next. Their friendly meetings were rare, due to his traveling schedule as coach of the Bulgarian team. She sometimes thought she preferred Serafina's company to Viktor's; they had much in common and Flooed each other often. Viktor teased both friend and wife, saying repeatedly that offerings of chocolate were the only way to retain either lady's fond regard. He wasn't entirely wrong about that.

Hermione chuckled and picked up the little candy. She read the message: OOO LA LA, and marveled at the thoughtfulness of her favorite shy athlete. She popped the morsel in her mouth and perused the newest stack of paperwork in front of her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and surveyed his domain, basking in the glow of his small victory. The stack of back files had returned to the Archive, as had a sulking Colin Creevey, and he was once again the Slytherin Seducer in the office grapevine. Which had slowed to a trickle due to his devious inspiration. Oh, he was still reeling from the force of nature known as Hurricane Hermione. But he had learned to savor the small wins and bide his time in the battles.

Also, he was scared absolutely shitless. He felt as if he was standing at the edge of a very tall cliff next to the ocean, looking down at a curly-haired man eating shark. He was profoundly sure that if he jumped, she would devour him whole. There would be no outswimming this one. He was caught between total avoidance and a leap of faith. Faith had never been Draco's strong suit.

He shifted a few papers around his desk to give the appearance of working and considered taking a smoke break. With any luck, his lads would be out there and the resultant ego stroking and arse kissing would be the boost he needed to take the leap. Where did he put those matches? He shuffled through the detritus on the far edge of his desk and uncovered a Kiss emblazoned with the message: OOO LA LA. Draco stared at it for a moment and then snatched it up, lounging back in his chair again whilst tossing the confection high in the air and catching it anew.

It had not been there this morning, he was sure of that. Was it Hermione's apology for her flagrant abuse of his lips? Or was it a sly compliment, intended to engage his lips again... Screw the lads, he was off to jump a shark. He popped the sweet in his mouth and smirked in anticipation.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Well-pleased with her accomplishments, Hermione strode to the Break Room, intent on tea and a quiet read. She smiled at Frank, who was chatting with Lavender Brown, and sat in her favorite chair. Sipping her earl grey tea, she began to read chapter thirty one of The Awakening. Until the throat-clearing noise above her made it impossible to concentrate. She looked up, and raised an eyebrow. Malfoy.

"Oui?" She said curtly.

"Uh... bonjour, Hermione... comment allez vous?" He cringed. That was... smooth. Not.

"Pourquoi êtes vous Français parlant, Malfoy?"

"Je suis désolé. Je ne comprends pas le français."

"Ce qui vous a indiqué?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"What's going on?" Lavender interjected. "You sly things. Chatting in French so no one can listen in."

Hermione was indignant. "Je ne parle pas français. Malfoy parle français. Le git arrogant."

"How cute is that, Ms. Brown? Ah, l'amore!" Frank bubbled delightedly.

"Amour! Qui a indiqué n'importe quoi au sujet de l'amour!" Draco looked alarmed. Perhaps a tactical retreat was in order. Hermione grabbed his arm to prevent him leaving.

"Malfoy! Vous avez un de ces derniers?" She held up the OOO LA LA banner.

He looked at the banner in dawning horror and fished its twin out of his pocket. "Merde. Je pense que nous parlons français. Vous avez un stylo? Et un peu papier?" He made writing gestures in the air.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and took her wand out of her sleeve. He gave her a Gallic shrug as she Accioed a quill and parchment. While Frank and Lavender watched with interest, they had an impassioned argument in thankfully written English.

Obviously coming to some sort of agreement, they shrugged Gallically at each other. Hermione wrote a note and held it up for Lavender and Frank to see:

WE'RE GOING TO ST. MUNGO'S

BE BACK SOON -- DON'T EAT SILVER

COVERED CHOCOLATES WITH THESE

And she pointed at Draco, who held up the banner and then gave it to Lavender.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Frank and Lavender waited two whole minutes after they left before telling Blaise what happened. Next thing they knew, the entire department was in the break room, discussing the French Incident. Frank burbled happily, dispensing water to everyone.

Naturally, Blaise was the first to notice Lavender chatting away in French.

Then Ernie stood up and yelled, "Zut alors! Je ne peux pas comprendre n'importe qui ici!"

Everyone stared at each other in panic, and then Blaise pointed at Frank in horror.

Frank stared back at Blaise and bubbled in distress, "What is it? What happened?"

The bubbles dislodged more of the Kisses from Frank's neck, and they bobbled on the panicked currents to the top of his bottle head.

"Franck, vous nous avez empoisonnés tous!" Blaise accused passionately.

Frank bubbled vigorously in denial. He had not understood Mr. Zabini, but his tone was crystal clear.

"Go to St. Mungo's," he cried. "Save yourselves. I will survive... the froggy scourge has no effect on me."

Everyone filed out of the room. Blaise was at the end of the queue.

"Mr. Zabini," Frank burbled pathetically. Blaise turned and regarded Frank fondly. "Go where glory waits thee! But while fame elates thee, Oh, still remember me!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Frank woke abruptly, a little muzzy from sleep, with traces of condensation on his tall rectangular metal body and... was something sitting on the top of his plastic bottle head? It felt like a... beret.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N (translations):

"Yes?" She said curtly.

"Uh... Hi, Hermione... how are you?" He cringed. That was... smooth. Not.

"Why are you speaking French, Malfoy?"

"I'm sorry. I don't understand French."

"What did you say?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"What's going on?" Lavender interjected. "You sly things. Chatting in French so no one can listen in."

"I'm not speaking French. Malfoy is speaking French. The arrogant git."

"How cute is that, Ms. Brown? Ah, love!" Frank bubbled delightedly. (L'amore is Italian for love; Frank needs French lessons.)

"Love! Who said anything about love!" Draco looked alarmed. Perhaps a tactical retreat was in order. Hermione grabbed his arm to prevent him leaving.

"Malfoy! Do you have one of these?" She held up the OOO LA LA banner.

He looked at the banner in dawning horror and fished its twin out of his pocket. "Shit. I think we're speaking French. Do you have a pen? And a little paper?" He made writing gestures in the air.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Then Ernie stood up and yelled, "Oh my god (slang)! I don't understand anyone here!"

Everyone stared at each other in panic and then Blaise pointed at Frank in horror.

Frank stared back at Blaise and bubbled in distress, "What is it? What happened?"

The bubbles dislodged more of the Kisses from Frank's neck and they bobbled on the panicked currents to the top of his bottle head.

"Frank (Franck is the French version of Frank), you have poisoned us all!" Blaise accused passionately.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: "Go where glory waits thee! But while fame elates thee, Oh, still remember me!" --

From Irish Melodies by Thomas Moore (1779-1852).

Originally posted to the Live Journal dramionedrabbles community for the 2008 St. Valentine's Day 7 Kisses Challenge.

Day 4 prompt: underwater kiss.