Lifeline

"You don't care about anything do you?" hissed Hermione Granger beneath the noise of the thundering storm outside, as the Hogwarts Express made its way towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "You're just too busy lording over the fact that you're pure-blood to notice anything besides yourself."

In the darkness of the train compartment, Draco Malfoy felt his features rearrange themselves into a customary smirk that he usually reserved for Hermione, Harry and Ron, despite the fact that Hermione couldn't see him. "Well since you seem so adept at mind-reading Mudblood, why don't you tell me?"

Letting out a frustrated mutter, and ignoring the insult of being called 'Mudblood,' Hermione gave up trying to magic the door of the train compartment open, and turned to glare at Malfoy. "This is all your fault," Hermione said coldly, wishing that she could see Malfoy. Unpleasant as the Slytherin's face was, with its constant smirk, Hermione had to admit that with the present predicament she was in, the awful face could be reassuring.

The fact that she was stuck in a dark train compartment with only Draco Malfoy was enough to drive her stark raving mad although, being around Ron Weasley and Harry Potter for the past six years had helped- to a certain extent. While neither of them ever called her Mudblood, and insult which meant that she had non-magical parents, it seemed that the Slytherin she was stuck with and her two best friends were all emotionally inept. Sometimes, it was hard to decide who frustrated her more, but when it came to the loathing stakes, Malfoy definitely took the cake.

"Why would the fact that we're stuck in a train compartment together be just my fault?" Malfoy's silky voice slid out of the darkness, startling Hermione for a moment. "It wasn't just me that got us here...it was you too."

Hermione glared in the direction of his voice, but smart as she was, comebacks were not her speciality, and it wasn't as if she could disagree.

They had been the last Prefects to leave the Prefects' Compartment, as they had been given the tasks of replacing the Globe that had held Dumbledore's head in it for the duration of the meeting into its container. The two sixth-years had cast the incorrect spell though, and instead, the whole compartment had shut down, trapping the two of them, and comfortable as compartment was, she certainly did not want to be in the same space as Malfoy.

Feeling her way towards a seat, Hermione sat down on the first available spot, only to find Malfoy occupying the seat.

"You might want me like that Mudblood," Malfoy said, the derisive distaste in his voice, as Hermione scrambled off him, "but I most certainly don't."

Suppressing the violent urges she was feeling, Hermione quickly sat down on the seat furthest from Malfoy, hoping with all her might that her friends would come looking for her.

***

It had been a long journey.

While Harry had eventually found her, he had no idea how to open the door to the compartment, and Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville had been equally clueless, so Hermione had been stuck in the company of Malfoy for the entire train ride. She had finally remembered to light the end of her wand with Ron's exasperated, "You're a witch!"

Dim as the light was, the glow was better than the darkness. In the dim circle of light, Hermione had seen Malfoy's slightly embarrassed expression, and she had felt, strangely enough, a tinge of satisfaction about having Malfoy off-balance. The roaring storm had finally let up too, and although the lighting inside the compartment hadn't improved, the absence of not-too-distant lightning was comforting.

The conductor of the train had finally let the pair out of their enforced confinement together at the end of the journey, and needless to say, it had been embarrassing. She had been glad to see another face, besides Malfoy's staring back at her through the watery wand-light though, since she had, depressingly enough, discovered that her fellow dormmates Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had been correct in their analysis of Draco Malfoy.

When the Slytherin wasn't smirking, he was pretty damn hot.

The smirk and scornful glare had, eventually, slid off, possibly because, Hermione thought dryly, because his face couldn't hold the smirk and glare position for such long lengths of time. She had noted, though, that his pale hair had glittered in the wand-light, his slate-grey eyes, when they had looked up at her, had been intense in a way that she thought was impossible for him. It had thoroughly disturbed her, and despite the lulling talk outside the compartment door of her friends, Hermione hadn't been able to stop staring at him, no matter how much she commanded herself to stop gawking at his face, and the physique beneath his robes. It was as if a conversation with Ron through the door about Egyptian wizards hadn't been enough to distract her, and despite the reoccurring, if somewhat brief, smirk on Malfoy's face Hermione couldn't stop gaping at it.

Once she had stepped off the train, she had thought everything would be fine - she would go back to crushing on her emotionally disabled best friend, Ron, and Malfoy would return to his little pathetic knuckle-cracking sidekicks, only to enter her life in multitudes of smirks, contemptuous glares and insults. And, of course, she would go back to arguing with Lavender and Parvati that Malfoy was anything but hot.

***

Several days later, Hermione sat down in Potions, severely reminding herself, as she stared at Ron with all her might, that she did not like Draco Malfoy. In fact, she was so intent on staring at Ron, that she didn't notice that the lesson had started, until Snape's voice jolted her from her thoughts. Hurriedly setting out her quills and parchment, and pointedly ignoring Ron and Harry's concerned expressions, Hermione turned towards the greasy Potions Master, who was also Head of Slytherin House. Quashing thoughts of Slytherin House, since she was sure that they would lead to R-rated thoughts about Malfoy, Hermione made a conscience effort to focus on Snape.

"I am sad to say," Snape was saying in his oily voice, "that the Headmaster requires that you must all partner up in your work with members of a House other than your own."

Groans came from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor sixth-years, who were, once again, having double Potions together, much to each Houses' disgust. Loud protests began as Snape concluded his announcement, watching their reactions, and an excuse to remove Housepoints from Gryffindor.

"But Professor-!"

"We have to work with them?!"

"Hey, look who's talking!"

"Gryffindorks!"

"Slither things!"

"Be quiet," Snape said coldly, glaring at Gryffindor Seamus Finnigan. "Ten points from Gryffindor for the unneeded insult to Slytherin," he continued, ignoring several Gryffindors' outraged sputtering.

Giving a wave at the board, the lists of partners came up, and found her name, she felt her heart sink. Hermione Granger (Gryffindor), Draco Malfoy (Slytherin).

Closing her eyes, then opening them again, Hermione hoped that she had misread, but Malfoy's name was still next to hers, and she was still partnered to him.

"Well, Miss. Granger? Why are you not seated next to your partner? Ten points from Gryffindor."

Hermione felt her jaw sag, as Snape addressed her before realising that she was still sitting at the back of the room, gaping at the board. Slamming her mouth shut amidst several loud titters from the Slytherins, Hermione gathered her belongings and slid onto Malfoy's bench, placing her things as far away from him as possible. However, as Snape began talking, Hermione amazingly tuned out, as she turned to look at Malfoy, whose eyes were focusing intently on the board.

"Miss Granger? What is the final ingredient for the Redemption Potion?" Snape asked, his black beetle eyes narrowed. Giving herself a violent shake, Hermione turned her attention to Snape, wondering what was wrong with her. Ever since she had got off the Hogwarts Express, she had been constantly drifting off, especially in the classes she shared with, strangely enough, Malfoy.

"P-p-pardon...sir?" Hermione asked weakly. From the corner of her eye, she could see the amazement on some of her Housemates' faces, and she could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Were you not listening Miss. Granger?" Snape said, his voice arctic cool, a satisfied smile on his face at the idea of removing more Housepoints from Gryffindor.

Hermione opened her mouth, before slamming it shut once more, her scrambled mind trying to come up with the correct answer. A slight tap of a quill from Malfoy got her to look down at a piece of parchment he had slid her way, which read, in neat meticulous handwriting, Essence of Belladonna. Hermione caught herself before a relived sigh escaped her as her memory confirmed Malfoy's note, and told Snape in her usual confident tones, "Essence of Belladonna, sir."

Snape's face seemed to fall, but he gave a curt nod, his face hardened.

Turning to Malfoy, Hermione found his face unreadable, his grey eyes blank. With a confused frown, Hermione swivelled around to face the board once more, sternly telling herself to stop thinking about the Slytherin, and if she had to have lusty thoughts, they should be directed at Ron.

Sneaking a peek in Malfoy's direction though, she doubted that it would be happening soon. No matter how hard she tried.

***

While the usual diversion of schoolwork didn't work, the months did continue on as Hermione desperately attempted to find someone more suitable to crush on, since her crush on Ron had disappeared now, and Hermione could no longer remember how she could've thought of him that way. Thankfully, Ron had been oblivious to those feelings, which, Hermione now fervently thought, was a good thing.

Her efforts to find a more appropriate flame were fruitless. All she ever got, were reasons why Malfoy was the better person out of the two, and while Hermione had been sure that Malfoy didn't have that many good traits, it appeared that she had been wrong. By the time the Yule Ball came around, she was still thinking about him, her best friends thought she had finally lost the plot from schoolwork overload, and she herself was starting to believe that Harry and Ron could be possibly correct.

The Yule Ball, which was in full swing around Hermione, Ron and Harry, was being held in honour of the wizarding world's newest allies, the Druids. They had arrived earlier that week to Hogwarts, and had been very excited about celebrating Christmas "Witch-style," as their spokesperson had said, and at present, all of the white-robed, slightly portly Druids were dancing with great gusto with several fascinated females.

However, Ron and Harry, at the announcement of the Ball had been less than enthusiastic, and judging by their current expressions, Hermione guessed that the pair still hadn't forgotten the fourth-year Yule Ball, where they had taken several weeks to find the famed Gryffindor courage and ask their respective crushes. The initial rejection had hit the two of them hard, although they had managed to find dates, who had eventually stormed off at Harry and Ron's negligence, to dance with other, more considerate, males.

"What's the point of going to the Yule Ball if you're not going to enjoy it?" Hermione asked in a final effort to convince Harry and Ron to enjoy the ball. Her best friends simply stared incomprehensibly at Hermione, their faces blank with confusion, and Hermione let out a sigh. Although Harry was more emotionally in touch with the world, the two of them could be equally clueless at times, especially when it came to girls, balls, and anything that didn't have to do with Quidditch, school or, most importantly saving the world from Voldemort.

While the twelve Christmas trees placed around the Great Hall were impressive, it seemed that the teachers had gone full tilt, even more so than the previous ball. Streamers and mistletoes hung and wound around carefully sculpted icicles that glowed, and fairies sparkled through the air, giving out little bursts of coloured lights. Music from one of the popular Wizarding Wireless Network band, The Hours, belted out from a small stage where the teacher's table usually was. The candles had been snuffed out at the end of the meal, and large as the meal was, it seemed that both Ron and Harry had their behinds permanently tacked onto the refreshment table, despite Hermione's insistent mutters, which were met with blank stares.

"Oh honestly, it's no wonder why you don't have dates!" Hermione finally exclaimed in exasperation, throwing her hands into the air. Before they could blank-stare her for the tenth time in half an hour, Hermione turned her back to her friends, and marched towards her date, fellow sixth-year Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff. While Hermione didn't have any real feelings for the Hufflepuff, she definitely had to admit that he was very handsome.

This did nothing whatsoever in the quest for Hermione to quash the traitorous voice at the back of her mind that Draco Malfoy was inevitably hotter however, but as Justin looked up from across the Hall, Hermione gave him a forced smile. Smoothing down her hair, which she had straightened, this time with a quick cosmetic spell, Hermione's eyes began looking around for Malfoy.

A sharp jab in the ribs jolted Hermione out of her thoughts. Spinning around at the offender, Hermione found Malfoy smirking at her. He looked positively stunning in a clean-cut black robe, which showed off his pale looks, and strong, lean physique, to the fullest, and if he would stop smirking long enough...

"What are you staring at Granger?" he asked coolly, his eyes distant. In his hands was a cup filled with what looked like Firewhiskey in the dim glow of the icicles, and reflexively, Hermione tilted her head back slightly to glare at him, eye-to-eye.

"You're not meant to have that Malfoy," she replied coldly, nodding towards the Firewhiskey, and ignoring his question.

"Whose to say Mudblood?" Malfoy asked condensingly, deliberately lifting the cup to his lips. Involuntarily, Hermione's eyes followed his cup, and she noted almost instinctively that his lips were lush, and very kissable...

Giving herself a quick shake, and telling herself that liking Malfoy was not an option, Hermione felt her heart start racing, as the Slytherin was pushed against her by several passing couples. Staggering slightly from the shove, Hermione felt liquid from his Firewhiskey slop onto her periwinkle-blue dress robes. After registering the painful thumping of her heart at the Slytherin's closeness, and his warmth, Hermione finally managed to gather her wits enough to gasp out, "Get off me you prat!"

It came out more breathlessly than she had intended, and Malfoy's head turned, so that his lips was inches away from hers. When she tried to move back, Hermione realised, with a shock, that the solid warmth of Malfoy's arm was wrapped around her waist, and was drawing her closer.

"Don't you know what you're meant to do when you're caught beneath mistletoe Granger?" he breathed into her ear, as he shifted his head slightly. Shivers spiralled up and down her spine as his voice tickled her neck, and for a flash, Hermione couldn't help but feel like a heroine from trashy romance novels that she had, of course, never deigned to read. Grasping for the familiar loathing she usually felt for Malfoy, Hermione opened her mouth to reply, only to have it covered by Malfoy's own mouth.

She felt her whole body slacken at the initial impact of his mouth over hers, with only his arms supporting her. Hermione parted her lips slightly, and instantly, she felt his tongue glide into her mouth, gently caressing the insides of her mouth, his lips still suctioned to hers.

When he finally broke off the kiss, Hermione felt forlorn and empty, as if everything had fled from her the moment his lips had left hers. Even though the logical part of her mind was stubbornly proclaiming that she was being ridiculous about Malfoy, Hermione still couldn't stop feeling disappointed, especially since he was now looking at her, a smirk pasted onto his face once more.

Taking a sip from what was left of his Firewhiskey, Malfoy replied in a slightly husky voice, "It means that you're meant to snog the person next to you like crazy or you'll get bad luck for the rest of the year."

"Wha-?" Hermione stared at Malfoy's retreating back in confusion, her feelings wheeling through her like a flurry of electrocuted ants. Peering up at the overhanging icicle, Hermione felt her blood freeze...there wasn't any mistletoe up there...

***

"Saw you down there with Draco tonight," Lavender giggled out, switching glances with Parvati.

The Yule Ball had finished several hours ago, and Hermione had wandered around aimlessly in desperate daze, trying to rationalise her situation, and ignoring all the strange looks she had been receiving.

Despite her mixed-up emotions though, there was one thing she knew for sure...and the fact that she was falling for Draco Malfoy wasn't very comforting. In fact, it was the least comforting thing that she could have possibly come up with, especially when she considered their behaviour to each other over the past six years, as well as the status each of them held as a pure-blood and Mudblood. While those standings didn't matter to Hermione, she knew that Malfoy's world began and ended on a person's heritage. The snogging, Hermione was sure, as she flopped onto her bed, wrinkled periwinkle dress robe and all, was simply a new and interesting way to mock her.

Rolling over in her bed, and burying her head in her pillows, she let out a moan, ignoring the other Gryffindor girls' chatter, and feeling as if she had just had a personality transplant. Either that, or someone had stuck her into a warped universe where Mudbloods like Hermione Granger fell for smooth-talking, pureblooded Slytherins like Draco Malfoy. In her suffocating position, Hermione finally concluded with much disgust that she would have to wait for the enormous crush she had somehow developed to blow over, since, as far as she could tell, she didn't have a rat's arse chance of ever snagging Draco Malfoy.

Not that that had a rat's arse chance of that happening either.

After several days of agonising over Draco Malfoy and fantasising about the way his lips had touched hers, and the way she had literally melted against him Hermione had finally had enough. She had decided that she was going to gather every bit of her Gryffindor courage, and confront the Slytherin the moment he finished dinner, and this time, she wouldn't let him worm out of the way.

***

The only positive thing Hermione could see about the situation, as she looked around the Entrance Hall, was that Harry and Ron were at the Gryffindor tables stuffing their faces, and Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't be walking beside Malfoy when he appeared, cracking their knuckles and glaring at her, since they hadn't passed their fifth-year. Shifting her armload of books to the other arm, Hermione tucked a stray tendril of hair out of the way, before she saw Malfoy saunter towards her. Instantly, Hermione froze; one hand in her hair, the other tightening on her books. Although Malfoy was undeniably the Slytherin King, no one followed him out of the Great Hall as he swept out, which Hermione was thanking whichever gods happened to be listening, forgetting for a second that she didn't believe in God, singular, or gods, plural.

"Malfoy! Wait up!" Hermione called, hurrying after the retreating Slytherin.

Malfoy paused, and when he turned around, Hermione felt her heart sink. He hadn't said a single word, but already, she knew that this little confrontation was not going to leave her unscathed. A smirk was already in place, and his eyes were hooded, making them a stormy grey. "Yes...Granger?" he asked, stretching out the words, one eyebrow lifted disdainfully.

Catching up to him, Hermione tried not to let her feelings show, something she had become more adept at as both Harry and Ron began noting how un-Hermione-like she had been acting since the Yule Ball. "I just...wanted to talk..." Hermione said, trailing away, before realising she was being intimidated by Draco Malfoy. "I mean," Hermione said more clearly, "I need to talk to you."

"About?" His contemptuous tone seemed to waver over the syllables and Hermione felt a small ripple of victory at his uncertainty, glad that she was forcing him to play her game. As if he sensed her feeling of victory though, he folded his arms over his chess, and planted himself more firmly in the corridor, and rearranging his features into a larger smirk. His contempt, Hermione noted, didn't reach his eyes this time.

"About what happened between us at the Yule Ball," Hermione replied, standing directly in front of the Slytherin.

"Oh?" He seemed to hiss the word out, and his expression flickered. Hermione looked at him expectantly, as he moved towards her, his arms dropped to his side once more. "Oh really?" he asked again, when Hermione didn't reply. He was so close now; that Hermione could nearly make out how he had light freckles just beneath his right eye, how intense his eyes were, boring into her own...

Clutching her books tighter to her chest, Hermione let out a nod, commanding her vocal chords to work, and wishing that whatever personality transplant had taken place within her, it would restore her bossiness right about now. Gathering all her reserves, Hermione replied, in a slightly squeaky voice, "Oh. There wasn't any mistletoe there Draco, and you know it..." Her voice trailed off as she realised what she had just called him.

Draco.

If Harry and Ron didn't kill her, she would do it herself. Backing away from the Slytherin, as he walked towards her, his eyes pinning her down, Hermione told herself to calm down, which was working as well as her suggestions in getting over him. As her back hit the wall, Draco cornered her, with one arm on either side of her. Slamming her eyes shut, and telling her heart to quit beating so fast, Hermione turned her face away from him, feeling the cool stone of the castle wall.

This didn't deter Draco from kissing the side of her neck though, and gently wrapping his arms around her waist, sending rivulets of fire speeding through her body. The moment Hermione turned towards him, his lips gently pressed against her own, and she felt as if she was soaring...

A split second later though, his lips lifted from hers, his grey eyes sparkling dangerously, making her feel like a little girl. "Ten o'clock, Prefect's Meeting Room," he said in husky tones that were all too sexy. Hermione stared at him, and he smiled, taking her silence as assent. Wheeling around, he turned to walk down the corridor to the Slytherin Common Room, leaving Hermione to slump against the wall as her knees gave way.

"So much for being smart," she muttered to herself, as her fingers touched her lips.

***

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, his green eyes focusing on Hermione, as she stood up, scattering several pieces of parchments, and causing the stack of textbooks in front of her to tumble to the ground.

"Prefect patrol," Hermione lied smoothly, one of the only times she had ever lied to her best friend. Ron had, thankfully, already gone to bed, and couldn't dispute this, and since Harry wasn't a Prefect, he couldn't exactly contradict her.

Nodding, Harry bent over his Divination homework, a small frown of concern for her still marring his features. Ignoring his expression, Hermione walked past him, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him write, 'On Tuesday, one I thought of as a friend will push me off a Tower, as Uranus is moving into Pluto's path.'

Rolling her eyes at Harry's somewhat questionable predictions, Hermione grabbed her cloak, and left the Gryffindor Common Room, shivering slightly as the castle's cold winter air hit her. In her mind, a whirl of thoughts spiralled through her, as she began to tingle in anticipation. No questions in her mind were asked as to why Draco Malfoy wanted to meet her at the Prefect's Room, besides possibly for another mind-blowing snog.

Recalling how intense each of his kisses had been, Hermione blushed. She knew that what she was doing was infinitely wrong, and that if a Slytherin was involved, it couldn't be good. However, the idea of being kissed senseless by such an extraordinary sexy guy, even if he was a Slytherin, was enough to make even the smartest witch at Hogwarts.

Arriving at the tapestry depicting the four Founders, Hermione muttered the password ("Still Life") and entered, as it parted down the middle, with Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw on one side, and Salazar Slytherin on the other, wildly waving what looked like a pickaxe over his head. Ignoring the animosity shown on the tapestry, Hermione entered, to find Draco reclining nonchalantly on one of the seats usually occupied by the Gryffindors.

"Quite comfortable here isn't it?" he observed coolly, his fingers idly running over the red and golden chair. "In front of the fire," he continued, gesturing to the fireplace, which was burning merrily, "with these soft chairs..."

Hermione stared at him, feeling let down, and wondering if he had called her here just to discuss the furnishings in the room. Before she could open her mouth to retort though, Draco stood up, and spun around, reminding her very much of her cat, Crookshanks.

"Reminds me of how every Professor seems to dote on Gryffindors and forgets about us Slytherins..." He let out a bitter laugh, and Hermione stood frozen, one hand still on the doorframe. Walking towards her, Hermione couldn't help but feel that the firelight glinting off his hair only enhanced his ethereal look and the crackling intensity in his eyes, which involuntarily drew her closer to him, her hand falling from the doorframe.

"Nobody..."Hermione's voice seemed to be a law unto itself, and was several octaves higher than usual. Commanding herself to concentrate on anything but how damn sexy the Slytherin was, Hermione cleared her throat and tried again. "Nobody forgets about the Slytherins...I mean -"

Hermione was cut off by an uncharacteristic bark from Draco, far from his usual contemptuous, elegant self, and Hermione's head shot up. "All you have to do is look at us Hermione," he said, unaware that it was the first time that he had ever called her by her first name, and unaware of the effect it was having on her. "Its Gryffindors who get all the famous, smart people, the heroes, while we get all the cast-offs, the ones who are too stuck in the past to notice that no one but them cares about bloodlines..."

Staring at him in shock, she suddenly realised that he was directly in front of her, his eyes glittering from the firelight in the background. Clearing her throat, and resisting the temptation to either snog him already, or slap him stupid, Hermione asked, "What does that have to do with me? I know all this, al-"

"You do don't you? Mudblood-"

"Mudblood?" Hermione asked, feeling her innards freeze. Her temper slowly began to rise to the surface and she felt her mouth start moving independently from her thoughts. "You," Hermione said, her voice laced with scornful anger, "got me stuck on an entire train ride with only you for company," she continued, conveniently forgetting that it had been partially her fault too. "Then, you snog me stupid on Christmas, when there was no mistletoe, and when I ask you, you simply snog me stupid again and tell me to meet you here." Her voice had started to gain momentum, and since Draco didn't seem inclined to stop her, she kept going, her arms gesticulating. "AND THEN, WHEN I ARRIVE HERE, YOU WALLOW IN SELF-PITY, WHINGING ABOUT HOW HORRIBLE IT IS TO BE IN SLYTHERIN! WELL YOU CHOSE YOUR HOUSE, SO IT'S YOUR PROBLEM YOU DEAL WITH IT YOURSELF! I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS IN YOUR HOUSE-!"

"Really?" During Hermione's derailing, Draco had moved back to easily lean against the back of a Slytherin chair, his eyes appraising Hermione. Now, his cool voice cut through Hermione's loud, annoyed tones, her face red, and her hair bushier than ever. "So, are you saying that you don't care about me, and you didn't enjoy our little...encounters?"

Hermione stood, glaring wildly at him, before throwing her arms into the air and making a sound that was a cross between a "Pfft!" and an "Eurgh!" Draco watched amusedly, obviously enjoying this at Hermione's expense, and to add to the aggravation, he asked thoughtfully, smirk pasted on his features, "Did you know you look extraordinarily cute when you're mad?"

Speechless, Hermione walked up to him, so that they were face to face, with Hermione trying to ignore how much she wanted to just tackle him and start snogging him. Her own brown eyes glittered with anger at being humiliated and insulted by Draco, who she had thought, remarkably enough, she was falling for. This didn't stop the tackle-and-snog feelings that were going through her, and his smirking face was driving her insane...

Lifting her right hand, she slapped him as hard as she could, so that a sickening crack echoed around the room.

Hard enough, Hermione hoped, as she stalked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, that Draco Malfoy would no longer be able to smirk at her...

***

Despite the famed Gryffindor trait, Hermione took to avoiding Draco like a plague, while he seemed bent on cornering her. While she couldn't avoid him during Potions, she made sure that they didn't have any physical contact, since she was sure she would pull a tackle-and-snog, or even a tackle-and-shag, regardless of who would be watching.

Four months down the track, and in between excelling in all her subjects, being occasionally alienated by Ron and Harry for her "weird behaviour," she still hadn't managed to get Draco out of her mind. In fact, he seemed to be everywhere, glaring at her, smirking at her, trying to provoke her into marching over and just snogging, or shagging him senseless, depending on how emotionally frustrated she felt.

The fact that Ron seemed to finally be returning her long-dead feelings for him was slightly dampening, while Harry grimaced repetitively over the idea of facing Voldemort once more. He still managed to grin happily at both Hermione and Ron though, when Ron stuttered out cheesy lines to Hermione in an attempt to show her how much he wanted them to have a more-than-friends status. Hermione didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or be horrified at his lines, which included, "Are you sure you have a driving licence? Because you're driving me mad." Scarily enough, that had been one of his less horrendous lines. Where her pureblood friend managed to get such blatantly Muggle lines was obvious, she was sure that Harry had talked to Ron about soaps (even if they both denied it), and the lines they used. Ron's attempts did nothing in quashing Hermione's shag/snog-urges with Draco Malfoy; instead, Hermione began thinking how Draco would never use such cheesy lines on her.

It seemed, though, as winter drew to a close, and the start of February marched in with Valentine's Day, that while Hermione was having difficulty in determining on how she felt about Draco Malfoy without the lust factor, the Slytherin in question had no problems in deciding about how he felt about the Muggle-born witch...

***

"At least there aren't any of Lockhart's little singing creatures here," grumbled Ron as the three Gryffindors slogged through the snow towards Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures.

"Oh," grunted Harry, looking entirely unheroic in his losing battle against the melting snow. "So you really agree that having fairies flying around the place and dropping messages into your Potion and having the bloody Valentine read out by Snape is fun?!"

At that precise moment, a fairy came flying into Harry, its tinkling voice announcing, "Valentine for Harry Potter!" Harry groaned at the fairy's chipper tone, while both Hermione and Ron exchanged surreptitious grins, causing Ron to blush as scarlet as his hair. While the fairies weren't so inclined to using violent means to get people to listen to the Valentine message as Lockhart's goblins had done, they had, to Harry's despair, other, more embarrassing ways to get a person to listen. Since Valentine's Day had begun, Harry had been the recipient of twenty Valentines. By the frustrated look on Harry's face as the fairy sang about Harry's "mysteriously sexy green eyes," at the top of its sweet high-pitched voice, Hermione supposed that sending her best friend a Valentine via fairy-courier was the way to getting hexed, jinxed or cursed by him.

The Slytherins, who the Gryffindors were still having Care of Magical Creatures with listened with malicious smirks as they walked past in the slushy snow, obviously memorising the fairy's words, in order to tease Harry about it at some later date. Draco in particular was smirking extra hard, and his pace had slowed to a rate that even a sloth could beat. However, while Hermione tried to look at him while trying not to look like she was looking at him, noted that his smirk was directed more at her than Harry.

Draco raised an eyebrow as Hermione continued to do the "look-without-looking-like-I'm -looking" tactic, obviously fully aware and very amused at her somewhat strange position that was reminiscent of a demented owl. As his smirk grew wider, Hermione flushed a deep red, and turned towards Ron, who was as red as Hermione was, but for a different reason.

"What are you looking at Malfoy?" growled at Ron, as Harry's face grew stormier and stormier during the fairy's recitation of how he was "hotter than Orlando Bloom."

Malfoy's only answer was to smirk in response, and continue eyeing Hermione in a very open fashion. The Slytherins had all ground to a halt, watching the Gryffindors with wide smirks that rivalled Draco's on their faces, although, Hermione thought, her eyes darting towards Draco again, Draco's smirk definitely underlined his hotness, while his followers' smirks underlined their stupidity.

Hermione felt herself growing red again at Draco's gaze, and she turned towards her friends and grabbing their sleeves, to stop Harry from hexing the fairy and Ron from jinxing Draco, Hermione steered them towards Hagrid's hut, the fairy's trill tones chasing after their retreating backs.

"...So after all is said and done; Harry Potter definitely is the one!" concluded the fairy, while Harry attempted to twist out of Hermione's grasp.

"Oh honestly," Hermione muttered, giving a yank as the Slytherins began to laugh raucously. "Ignore them!" she told her friends. "Just ignore them, they're all prats anyway...just ignore them..."

Ron glared at Hermione though; his face still flushed. "Right, so we're meant to just stand and watch while Malfoy eyes you up, is that it?" growled Ron.

"What?!" Hermione let go of their sleeves abruptly, nearly overbalancing from the weight of her bag. "There's nothing going on between me and Dra-Malfoy," she said, correcting herself hastily.

"Oh?" Harry asked ominously. It appeared that Harry, incensed though he was at the fairy, most of his rage had been at Draco. His tone reminded Hermione all too much of why he was the only wizard who could defeat Voldemort and Hermione tried to backtrack with a haughty shrug.

"Why should there be?" Hermione asked. "Besides, if I wanted to go out with anyone, it wouldn't be him," she continued, while inwardly telling herself that she wasn't lying. After all, wanting to shag and snog Draco Malfoy to death had nothing to do with dating.

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione for several more moments, unconvinced, before Hermione sighed, and grabbed their sleeves once more. "We better hurry," she said, in tones that she had used in her fifth-year - before her personality transplant, "or we'll be late to Care of Magical Creatures."

As far as Hermione was concerned though, she would never make it to Care of Magical Creatures...because she would be back to where Draco had smirked at her, his eyes challenging...

***

"So. Hermione. Been avoiding me have you?" Draco stood before her, blocking her path towards the library. His smirk was in place, and all Hermione could do was glare and clutch her books tighter, hoping her expression wouldn't give herself away.

"Why would I avoid you?" Hermione asked, trying to regain proper vocal chord use, and sound cold and confident. It didn't seem to be happening.

"Oh, I don't know," Draco sneered out. "Maybe it's because...you want me but you're in denial?"

"Or maybe," Hermione replied in a strained voice, "Valentine's Day has somehow made you finally loose all your marbles?"

Draco let out a soft laugh. "You're a dangerous woman Granger," he said. "That's what my father always said. A woman who answers a question with a question is to be treated with care." He shot her an ironic smile, and began to walk towards her, as Hermione's grip on her Arithmancy books tightened. "But danger's always interesting," he murmured in her ear, before strolling past her.

Hermione stood stock still turning his words over in her mind, before giving a shake of a head. Draco Malfoy fall for a Mudblood? The day it happened, Hermione would fall in love with him, not just in lust...even though, at the back of her mind, she knew it was too late to fall out of love with him.

***

Draco had started stalk Hermione - or, depending on who was asked, Hermione had a truly ardent admirer. Certainly, in the following months, owls came raining down on her, bearing gifts of books and candies, Ron hadn't been impressed, even going so far as starting ridiculous arguments with her over the gifts. The latest had been that the chocolate was probably hexed so she would do badly in the sixth-year exams, which were fast approaching. Hermione studiously ignored Ron's protests and Harry's discomfort about being caught in the middle, and drew up colour-coded study timetables for them instead, glad for the slight distraction of study.

However, during Potions, avoiding Draco was not an option, and it was there that he smirked his heart out in a superior fashion that made Hermione distracted to the point of getting mocked by Snape. The rest of the sixth-year Gryffindors who took Potions with her were shocked, since Hermione rarely lost points for their House, much less let her mind wander...to where, they didn't know, and for that, Hermione was grateful. She had the vague feeling that Harry and Ron, to some extent, had realised that she had fallen deeply for the Slytherin, although Hermione would rather snog the Giant Squid than ever admit it to herself, much less Draco Malfoy.

Harry and Ron had, being of the male population, ignored Hermione's slightly googly-eyed expressions in reference to Draco, although they both seemed severely annoyed with the fact that she went strangely quiet when they began a Draco-bashing session. Why they weren't unhappy about her eyeing Draco, but excessively upset over her apparent inattentiveness during their Draco-bashing sessions were beyond her.

Hermione had, through the march of months, had stopped trying to bite off her fellow sixth-years' head off in regards to Draco's hotness factor, since she couldn't exactly deny it herself any more. If they noticed her lack of opinion, they didn't say a word to her, nor did they mention her obvious attentions to the Slytherin. The problem was, although she tried to avoid anything to do with Draco Malfoy, attempted to get her vocal chords to help Harry and Ron Draco-bash and heatedly proclaim to Lavender and Parvati that Draco Malfoy was an utter twerp, it just did not seem to be happening. Like a snake, he had slithered in and taken over her life with his amazing kisses and arrogant stick-up-the-arse attitude, and despite Harry, Ron and exams, it seemed that Draco was here to stay.

***

"So, how'd you like the Potions exam Hermione?" Draco's voice flowed over her name as he walked beside her, his long legs keeping up with her demented pace.

"Fine," Hermione muttered tightly, glad that exams were over, and post-exam panicking about her answers. Frantically, she looked around for Harry and Ron, as she filed out of the doors of the Great Hall, wishing that Draco would either go away, or quit being so damn hot. Whether he went away or stopped being so damn hot, Hermione was sure that she wouldn't stop wanting to pull a tackle-and-snog on him, or a tackle-and-shag.

At the thought of doing a tackle-and-shag with the Slytherin in the Entrance Hall, Hermione flushed a deep red, and broke into a swift jog, hitting the doors and revelling in the sunlight as it touched her face. The days of studying (not cramming) had meant long hours inside the Gryffindor Common Room and library, studying, listening to both Ron and Harry complain in undertones, and, when she was in the library, hoping that she didn't run into Draco. Considering that Draco wasn't the library type, she needn't had worried, even if she had felt deflated when he never turned up.

"Well?" Apparently, her psychotic attitude to him hadn't deterred him in the least, and as Hermione leaned against a tree, she felt somewhat suicidal.

"Go. Away. Slytherin," she said as coldly as possible, backing up against the tree even more as Draco approached.

"There isn't anywhere to go, unless, possibly go out with me," he murmured, so close to her that they were inches apart. Sounds of other students seemed to fade into the background as he moved closer, his mouth inches from hers. Hermione frantically reminded herself to breathe, just as his mouth touched hers, sending rivulets of sensation running through her, making her feel as light as air, as Draco lifted her up to gain better access to her lips...

When his mouth lifted, Hermione realised that her arms had locked around his neck, and he was smirking down at her. Emptiness, like she had felt the first time, filled her, before Draco's mouth was pressing down on hers, drowning her with his lips...

A sharp jolt of pain brought her back to her senses though, and as Draco lifted his head, Hermione felt the spell he had cast fade. Before he could lean back towards her, Hermione did the only possible thing she could've done when her arms where in a most uncomfortable defensive position, and her body was cemented between a supremely hot male and the rough tree bark. Hermione's knee went up, and hit Draco right where it hurt.

***

"Well, Ms. Granger? Do you have an explanation for your behaviour? I must say that your actions towards Mr. Malfoy here were most uncharacteristic." Hermione shifted uncomfortably under Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes, wondering how she had managed to get herself in her present situation. A snort from opposite her answered her question almost immediately, and Hermione felt her face flushing.

Right after Hermione had kneed Draco and he had doubled over in exports of pain in the most un-Slytherin-like manner she had ever seen, Harry and Ron had come rushing over, their wands drawn. Needless to say, her somewhat overprotective male friends had hexed, jinxed and cursed their way through an impressive number of spells before either of them had bothered to ask questions. To them, Hermione thought reluctantly, anything that remotely looked dodgy was jinxable material, which in Ron's case, meant that Draco was on top of the list of "Jinxable People." While Hermione was sure that Voldemort wasn't really a jinxable person, considering Harry's encounters with the Dark Lord so far, she knew that to him, Draco was just a pain up the arse. Which, at present, was an opinion that Hermione was agreeing wholeheartedly with, never mind the Head of Houses were staring at her, Ron, Harry and Draco with varying degrees of puzzlement, loathing (mostly on Snape's part to Harry) and concern.

"Er...he..." Hermione stuttered out, feeling at a loss for words. Ron and Harry stared at her, while Draco gave her a pained smirk; she had no doubt that the knee she had delivered was still, in all likelihood, throbbing painfully. "He was coming onto me and asking me out," Hermione finally gabbled out, finally unnerved by the scrutinising stares of Harry, Ron, Snape and McGonagall. Opposite her, Draco's smirk had stopped becoming painful and instead, it was now a full-fledged victory smile, the first sincere smile that she had ever seen coming from him.

"Well," Professor McGonagall finally said, sounding as if a troll had clubbed her over the head. "Well, I-"

"Can't believe you," Harry said flatly, cutting across McGonagall's words, which, Hermione supposed, flushing again, came from the shock of hearing that the smartest witch in sixth-year who happened to be a Mudblood had been asked on a date by a notoriously pureblood wizard who was coincidentally, a Slytherin. "We thought," Harry continued, obviously meaning him and Ron, "that you were more loyal than that."

Hermione looked up at Draco, whose smirk had dwindled into an amused expression, his enjoyment obvious despite the pain that Hermione had caused several minutes before, and the interminable spells that had been aimed at him via Harry and Ron. Anger welled up in Hermione and before she could stop herself, her mouth opened and words gushed forth, words that she had never really meant to say. "Why did you assume that it was my fault?" Her voice was arctic and strangely detached sounding as she glared over at Harry, whose face was set into a painful grimace. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron's face red with suppressed rage, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. "He came onto me, not the other way round, if you hadn't noticed, and even if I did want him, what's that got to do with loyalty? It would just be bettering House relations, which is what Dumbledore's been trying to do all year, get the Houses together. So if I got together with him, that would be cause for celebration wouldn't it, with interHouse relationships, so either accept it, or go to hell."

Harry and Ron stared at her, the full impact of her personality transplant hitting them and making them look almost comical with their eyes bulging with rage and anger, their mouths working, only to produce strange sounds that reminded Hermione distinctly of a squeaky hinge. Snape, the Head of Slytherin looked at her, his eyes hooded, hair as greasy as ever, his face entirely expressionless, while Hermione's Head of House looked positively gobsmacked. A swish of material on the opposite side of the room indicated Draco was moving, and Hermione looked up to find him standing in front of her chair, looking down at her, his face carefully blank, looking like he was an exquisite piece of artwork, carved from marble.

"And?" Draco asked, his voice quiet, as he leaned casually on one of the desks, still looking into her eyes.

"And what?" Hermione's voice sounded breathless, and Draco didn't smirk, instead he gave her an appealing lopsided half-smile that sent her heart racing.

"What's your answer to my question?"

Hermione could hardly breathe at his quiet words, his eyes serious; everyone else in the world seemed to have dwindled away to only them. Inhaling deeply Hermione looked deeply into his eyes, pushing away her constant excuses she had made for herself before, all the reasons why she shouldn't be with him, remembering how gentle he could be when they had been snogging, how passionate he could be...

Exhaling, Hermione smiled, ignoring her friends' horrified expressions. "Yes."