You're Uninvited

Hermione walked into the library. Normally she was at least marginally excited about going to the library, but not today. She was meeting Draco Malfoy, in her private study room nonetheless, and was not happy about it. She walked into the room, and threw her book bag on the brown leather sofa.

Walking into the restricted section, Hermione tried to appear nonchalant - like she was just going to look up for a few things about Defense against the Dark Arts like she had told the librarian. She took quickly spotted a bookworm, and walked over to it. "Fruger, I need some books." She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Can you find me everything you have about the Dark Mark used by You-Know-Who?" The bookworm just stared at her. Considering that bookworms didn't talk, she took this as a yes.

Hermione exited the Restricted Section and entered back into her room, only to find Draco Malfoy sitting in on the sofa. "Nice room, Granger. I think you Gryffindors consistently get a little too carried away with decorations, but it works. Now if only the colors were, perhaps, silver and green?" He flashed a dazzling grin up at her.

"The room is fine just the way it is," she curtly replied. "Now if you ever stop complaining about the free help you're receiving from someone whom you refer to as 'Mudblood,' you can come and help me get the books we need."

She was right. As much as it pained him to admit it, she was completely right. Hermione had no reason to help him. In fact, she should've laughed in his face and told him that the mark was so fitting to his persona. That's what anyone else would have done - even Snape, his favorite teacher. But Hermione didn't.

After all he had done to her - after all the comments, insults, and sneers - she was still helping him. He had given her nothing but years of trouble, all because of who her parents were. She had agreed to help him, with nothing to gain and everything to lose. He had done nothing but torture her and make her cry, and she had done nothing but help him. He didn't know anyone else like that. Hermione was something else indeed. "Granger, I -"

She spun around to face him. "Not another word. Now come on." Making sure to stagger their exits from the room, Hermione and Draco made their way to the restricted section. She walked up to the bookworm, and thanked it. Stacked on to the nearest table were about five books, all apparently about the Dark Mark.

"I thought you said you had encountered this before, Hermione," Draco tested her, carefully using her first name.

She spun to face him. "I knew how to remove tattoos, Draco," she countered. "However, I did a bit of reading before today. Apparently the Death Mark doesn't count as any sort of tattoo. It's more of a... branding."

He scoffed lightly. "I could've told you that."

"Then why didn't you?" She had beaten him, and he knew it. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'ugly gopher' and picked up the books for her. Once again spacing themselves, they entered Hermione's study room. Sitting across from each other, they each opened a book.

"Sooo, Granger..."

"We'd get more accomplished if you would stop talking and read." Hermione didn't look up at him.

Draco smiled. "I can't very well read if I don't know what I'm supposed to be reading about."

She threw her book down on the table. "We need to find out how to remove the mark. If we get really lucky, there will be something in there about how to remove it."

"Something's telling me that not to many people removed it and lived to tell about it," he countered.

She shot him a look. "I realize that. We need to find the properties of the Mark, which I would be able to do, if you didn't keep interrupting me."

"Sorry," he said, no hint of an apology in his voice. He paused for a minute, and then released one of his trademark smirks. "You know, Granger," he began. "You're kind of cute when you're all hacked off like this."

If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would have been a dead man on the spot. "Now's not the time to be hitting on me, Malfoy. Read."

Draco's eyes returned to his book, just missing the smiled that found its way to Hermione's mouth.

~*~§~*~

"Granger, how much longer are we staying here?"

Hermione sighed. They had been in the library for two hours, and hadn't come up with a solution to Draco's Death Mark. "Dinner is in an hour. We can always continue on another day or something like that, but I'd hate to leave it." She paused. "Malfoy, I meant to ask you something earlier. What's your middle name?"

He looked at her. "Why do you care what my middle name is?"

"I'm not a Death Eater anymore!" he defended himself, and shot her a look.

"I'm sure you're not." She didn't sound convinced.

"Apollo."

It was her turn to look at him. "Apollo?"

"That's what I said."

She turned nervously back to her book. "That's a, uh, nice middle name, Malfoy."

"Thanks."

After a few more minutes of reading, Hermione set her book down. "The answer isn't in any of these books. I can't even find out what the bloody thing is made of."

Draco leaned back in his chair, appearing nonchalant. "We've got a ton of books back at the Manor," he said plainly. "I'm sure one of them would be bound to have something about the Dark Mark in it."

"Knowing your family, I don't doubt it."

"Will you shut up about my family?"

Hermione let out a half-chuckle, half-scoff. "Will I shut up about your family? Rather ironic coming from you, don't you think?"

He paused. She had a point there. "Look, I don't give a damn if your parents are muggles. I tried the whole "let's go around and kill muggles" thing, remember, and that didn't turn out so well. My crusade against muggles has come to an end so formulaic, it could've spewed from the power book of the laziest Hollywood hack."

"Poetic, Malfoy. Makes me sick."

"Why thank you!" He grinned.

She relaxed back in her seat. After a few minutes of silence, she looked over at him. He was chewing on the end of his quill, completely immersed in whatever he was reading. She knew that he hadn't found anything important, or he would've mentioned it to her. No, this boy read for fun. She smiled.

He looked up. "What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing." He shot her a 'don't stare at me' look, and continued reading. Hermione was finding simple amusement in just watching him, really. A lock of his blond hair, which he no longer wore gelled, repeatedly fell in his face. He brushed it back, but the action was futile. It was almost adorable. She smiled again.

"What?"

"Why do you still call me a mudblood?"

"Beg your pardon?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why. Do. You. Still. Call. Me. A. Mudblood?"

"Would you rather I call you 'Beatrice'?"

"NO!"

"Then stop yer bitchin'."

"Why, Malfoy? Why do you do it?"

A devious grin spread across his face. "Because it pisses you off."

"That's all? You insult my parentage just to see me upset?" She was glaring at him.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You don't even KNOW my family! Who they are shouldn't matter to you."

"And it doesn't! They could be King Kong for all I care. Their daughter turned out to be decent enough to help me out, so whatever."

"Malfoy, was that a compliment?"

"Perhaps. Don't let it go to that pretty little head of yours, Granger."

She blushed. Coming from Draco, that was a compliment. "Did you have a point to all this rambling, or did you come here to compliment my pants off?"

"I have a point," he said quickly.

"All right, then. Let's hear it."

"My point," he smiled, "is that we need the books back at the Manor."

Hermione reclined in her chair as well, mimicking his position. "Just a little problem, Malfoy," she said patronizingly. "The Manor is out there--" she pointed to some unknown outside location. "We--" she pointed to the table "are in here."

He smiled seductively at her. She always thinks she has the answers. "There's just one little piece to the puzzle that you're forgetting, Hermione," he teased. "What if I told you I had a portkey to the Manor?"

"I'd say that was grounds for expulsion."

"Oh, really?" He smirked and unclasped the silver necklace that Hermione had noticed earlier, sliding the ring off. "Granger, I know you've always wanted to come and visit my house. Now you'll get the chance." He grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek. "For luck."

She appeared stunned. "Is there a need for luck, Draco?"

He smiled. "No, it's worked like a charm every time." And with that, Hermione felt her stomach lurch forward. The whole world around her began to spin. But the port key wasn't the only reason he world was spinning.

Malfoy kissed me Malfoy kissed me Malfoy kissed me Malfoy kissed me... And I liked it I liked it I liked it I liked it... It was so sweet....

MALFOY!?!?!? KISS? SWEET?!?! And I LIKED it?!?!?

Oh boy.

Draco and Hermione landed with a thud in a bedroom. It had green and sliver wallpaper, black carpeting, green and silver satin sheets, and black pillows. Ahhh, Malfoy's room. His furniture was made out of silver, and the rest of the fabric in the room was green. A giant blanket with the Slytherin Crest on it rested on his bed.

"Woah, Malfoy," she said, teasing and provoking him. "Got a little 'house pride' issue you need to talk to someone about? Maybe those nice people with the sofas and the pads of paper?"

"Slytherin's a good house," he mumbled, opening his bedroom door. The two of them crept out in the hallway, making sure his mother wasn't around. As they began to make their way towards one of the staircases, Hermione noticed another room with its door open. Peeking inside, she saw that it had pink everything - pink walls, pink floor, pink sheets, pink curtains, pink--

But before she could finish looking, Draco has seized her upper arm and pulled her to him. "That door should not have been open," he mumbled.

She looked at him. "Why not?"

"It just shouldn't have." There was a final tone in his voice. The reason was not open for discussion.

They made their way down to a room that was worthy to be in the Slytherin Dungeons. Its walls were black wood halfway up, and painted a deep green on the top. They were barely lit, with fireless smoke partially covering them, giving the whole room an incredibly eerie effect. However, Hermione barely noticed all this, including the black leather sofas and the huge black desk. She had her eye on the bookcases that lined almost every part of the wall.

"Draco," she said softly, amazed at what was before her.

He grinned. "You like? I thought you might enjoy our little collection of books."

"Enjoy?" She was still staring at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "Draco this is amazing!"

He had to have a little chuckle at that. "I doubt you'd think most of these books were so amazing once you've read the titles. I'm sure the ministry would love to get their hands on this little collection."

"Why don't they?" Hermione asked, half-interested, as she picked up a copy of The Complete History of Salazar Slytherin.

"Because I don't want them to," Draco answered simply. "They toured through this house shortly after my father was sent--"he stopped. "Well, there's a charm on this room. Only people whom I want to see it are allowed to. You know that second staircase that we went down?" Hermione nodded absentmindedly. "Well, most people see a painting of my grandfather, Charibydis." He began to walk towards her. "Which isn't all that bad; he was quite handsome like the rest of the Malfoys. But you didn't see the painting." He paused. "You, Hermione, are special."

Draco was right in front of her now. He gently lowered the book she was flipping through, and looked in her eyes. "I let you see what was hidden to everyone else."

"Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"I'm muggle-born. I didn't think I was good enough for the Malfoy family."

"You wouldn't have been good enough for my father."

"So why am I good enough for you?"

"I'm not my father."

"I hadn't noticed."

"And you just have poor choice in friends. You're not all that bad."

"Oh I'm not, am I?"

"Nah." He blushed. "I mean, it's not your fault you're muggle-born, is it? And you're certainly better at everything than all of the pureblood girls that I know." This time it was Hermione's turn to blush. "Especially that Parkinson tramp. I mean, over all these years, I never -"

"Never took the time to care?"

Damn she's right. "I'm sorry."

Now's not the time to be apologizing. "I think we can go back now."

She still hates me. I knew it. "Go back?"

I don't know what he's doing to me. I've gotta keep myself in check. "Yeah."

Shit. "So eager to leave my house, Hermione? You'll have to come and visit another time." He took her hand. "Back to real life," he muttered, and pulled off the ring.

~*~§~*~

Draco and Hermione had been back for over a half an hour, and were still not any closer to finding a solution to getting rid of the Dark Mark. Every time Draco thought he was close to finding a solution, it just ended up being another dead end. It was going to take forever.

He moved on to a new book - Everything You've Wanted to Know about Voldemort but Never Asked. How charming. Draco opened the table of contents and skimmed through. There was a chapter on dragons. Ignoring the fact that dinner began in fifteen minutes, he opened it up to Page 68. After reading for several minutes, he glanced up at Hermione.

"In this book it says Voldemort used dragons in some of his earliest exploits."

Hermione looked up at him. "And what does this have to do with the Dark Mark?"

He grinned. "Nothing at all. But I found it fascinating that Voldemort threatened the dragons with bodily harm if they didn't do his bidding for him. Someone so small as Voldemort can take on something as big and powerful as a Dragon."

"How did he manage that?" Ignoring the irrelevance, Hermione was fascinated.

Draco looked back down at the book. "Dragons have a sensitive area below each of their front arms. Voldemort would hex that particular spot, and torture them until they obeyed him." He peaked up from underneath his bangs. "Even dragons have a soft spot."

She caught his meaning. "I didn't know that dragons had a weakness like that."

"The dragons don't like to tell too many people, I guess."

"I can understand that. But how does the dragon choose which people to reveal itself to?"

"He doesn't choose. It just happens."

"Just happens?"

"A nice person comes along, and the dragon gets to know them and trust them."

"How do you know this?"

"Experience."

"Are we still talking about the dragon?"

"Are you?"

"Better get back to reading, Malfoy."

Draco moaned, and Hermione stood up. "Fine!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "If you're going to be a baby about this, we can eat dinner now and finish this up later. I just thought you would rather figure out how to get rid of that bloody thing on your arm."

"No, Hermione, it's all right. We can stay here."

She looked at him. Draco Malfoy, the Great Compromiser? This was abnormal. "Are you sure?"

He sighed. "Yeah, it's all right. My mother sent me sweets from home just this morning. I can have some of those."

Hermione could tell by the look on his face that it wasn't all right. He was trying to be a gentleman about it. Draco Malfoy, a gentleman? She stood up. "Tell you what, Malfoy, we can sneak down to the kitchens."

"The kitchens? But how?"

She smiled, and walked over to the fireplace. "Like this," she said simply, tipping a candlestick over. The painting of Salazar Slytherin next to the fireplace swung open.

"Ahhh, I always knew ol' Sally would come through for me one of these days!" Draco shouted with glee.

"I swear, Malfoy, I don't know what has gotten into you. And just so you know, Salazar Slytherin was not that great of a man. I was reading about him in your library before you, uh, started talking to me. He used to tell snakes to attack people - even students - in the school. Or, he used to put a muggle in a room with a snake, and have the two fight each other for sport."

"Sounds like my kind of sport," he said, stepping through the portrait hole. Hermione glared at him. The portrait hole swung shut, and it was pitch black in the secret passage. "Just kidding, just kidding!" He got no response. "Uhh, Hermione? Are you there?" Still no response. "Oh, please tell me you didn't leave without me."

He heard a sniffle a couple feet in front of him. "I didn't leave without you." Another sniffle.

He approached the sniffling cautiously, extending his arms and hands out in front of him. "Hermione, are you okay?" His left hand hit something. Human flesh. And it was wet. He moved his hand and inch to the right and grabbed a hold of something.

"Ouch, Malfoy, that's my nose!"

"Err, sorry." Silently, they continued walking. "Hermione, were you, umm, crying?"

"Why?"

"I thought I heard you. And your, um, face was wet."

"What do you care?" she snapped. They continued walking.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just -"

"I don't want you apologies, Malfoy."

"Then what do you want? What can I do?"

They had reached the bottom, and a portrait swung open. Standing in the light, Draco saw that Hermione's eyes were puffy and red. There were streaks down the front of her face. She had been crying. "Don't do anything," she said. "You've done enough."

Immediately, they were bombarded by 20 house-elves. They began tugging at Draco's trousers (A/N - TROUSERS?!?!? Does anyone actually USE that word anymore?!?!?). "Dippy is so happy to see you!! Dippy has food for you!!"

"Hermione," he began as he tried to push the house-elves away. "I said I was sorry."

She turned to face him. "What, you think you can just march into my life, disrupt it, insult me, and then expect me to forgive you? Well, get over yourself. I was perfectly happy hating you Malfoy. I knew where I stood with you. But now you've disrupted my whole life. The truth as I know it is gone. You've got my head spinning, and you don't even care. And all you can muster up is a 'mudblood.' After years of you crap, I should've known better than to think you had possibly changed."

"I'm HELPING YOU, Malfoy. You don't quite seem to understand that. I have no reason to help you, you've never caused me anything but grief, and yet I'm helping you. As to why, I don't know. Maybe I thought there was one little part of you that was all right. All that part needed was a little love an attention, and it would show itself. But I guess I was wrong. Ever the haughty Slytherin, eh Malfoy?"

By now, all the house-elves had stropped attacking them. They stared at Hermione in disbelief, but then their disbelief had turned to anger at Draco. They immediately lunged themselves at him.

"Ow!! Not there!! Anywhere but there!! Granger let's get out of here. We can talk upstairs." As Draco continued to fight the elves, they made their way to the painting. Both of them were silent the whole way. Salazar Slytherin closed behind them, and Draco sat down on the sofa. He motioned for Hermione to sit down next to him. She did, but kept her distance.

"Granger, I know I can't offer any excuse for the way I've treated you the past six years," he began. "I've been a little cruel, yes. And it's been unjustified. But let me ask you something - have you ever had supposed 'truths' instilled in you as soon as you could breathe?"

"No, but let me throw that back at you." She paused. "Have you ever been looked down on by others for something that you can't help being? Something that's out of your control?"

He merely stared at her for awhile, and blinked. "I have, Hermione," he said quietly.

"I'm not just talking about your strong resemblance to a white ferret, Malfoy."

He smiled, despite himself. "Malfoy. I have been looked down on by others for something that was out of my control. I'm a Malfoy, aren't I?"

She put her hand on his shoulder. She felt him tense up, but he didn't pull it away. "Then you know how it is. Hopefully, you understand."

"I -"

"Let's get back to work, Draco." She moved across the table, and sat down where her book was, apparently not wishing to continue the conversation at all.

Draco frowned, and opened back up to the Table of Contents. The last chapter was simply entitled 'The Dark Mark.' Page 283. He flipped to it.

On the first page of the chapter, he saw it. It was the mark exactly like the one on his arm, same skull and serpent. Growing excited, he flipped through the pages. At last, he found it. "How to remove your Dark Mark without letting the Dark Lord Know."

"Hermione," he began. "I think I've found it!"

"Let me see." She crossed the table and sat down next to him. Hermione held the right half of the book with her right hand, leaving their shoulders pressed together. "This is it."

"The Dark Mark was a symbol used by Voldemort at the height of his power, right before his most recent downfall," Draco read. "Blah blah, yeah, I know all that. I had a bloody Death Eater for a father, for Merlin's sake. Here let's see - you have to take a potion to get rid of it."

"A potion among other things," Hermione corrected him. "This is the most complex system of anything I've ever seen!"

"Yeah, well You-Know-Who wasn't exactly a simple kinda guy, was he?" A smirk crossed Draco's face. "What else does it say I have to do?"

"The potion has to be both ingested by you and rubbed into the mark," she answered him. "Hmm, I've never heard of that before."

"You don't sound too excited about massaging me."

"In addition," she ignored him, "once all has been drank and applied -"

"Massaged -"

"--whatever, finite incantatum is used. At that point, some sort of soul-force is supposed to break free from the mark, which will eventually disappear on its own. The soul-force will need to be transfigured into something or other. It doesn't tell what, but the spell dormius mortus is supposed to do it. Apparently it turns into what you are most afraid of."

"Bloody brilliant," Draco finally quipped in. "So there's no clue as to what it's going to turn into? It could be a goddamned demon for all we know -"

"It's supposed to turn into what you're most afraid of," Hermione interrupted. "Like a boggart."

A flicker of fear crossed his eyes, but was soon replaced by his usual arrogance. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure we can handle it. After all, I've handled those boggarts. They aren't anything to worry about, and what could be worse then them? So rest assured, sweetheart, you won't have to dirty up your pretty ikkle hands by helping me." He tipped back in his chair, resting his clasped hands behind his head.

"Draco Malfoy," she spat his name, "you really are the most pompous jackass alive. If it weren't for the fact that I want You-Know-Who dead and wiped out forever, I would not be helping you. Is that clear, Malfoy?"

"Malfoy? What ever happened to 'Draco?'"

For a split second, she considered answering. But actions spoke louder than words. SLAP! Hermione's palm went clear across the side of Draco's face. "That's what happened to 'Draco'."

Somehow, despite the pain and the red mark on his face, he managed to smile at her. "I think I liked 'Malfoy' better. So when do you want to work on this?"

She went back over to her seat and began to gather her things. "It will take some time to get everything to make the potion. I'd say, maybe next weekend? I trust you will have the ingredients from Professor Snape by then."

"Me?" Draco looked at her, wide-eyed and innocent. As if it wasn't he who had just killed the puppy dog. "Why do I have to get it?"

"Because you're the Death Eater," she answered simply, grinning when she saw the look of protest beginning to form on his face. "See you in a week, Malfoy." And with that, Hermione was out the door.

Draco stayed behind, rubbing the spot where she had slapped him. A smile crept across his face.

~*~§~*~

Hermione laid down in her bed that night, not wanting to go to sleep. A million questions were running through her mind. Why was Malfoy so nice? Why did he keep on hitting on you?

Did you enjoy today more than you let on?

Hermione sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, today wasn't a bad day. Malfoy had been, for the most part, impeccably behaved. Except for the 'mudblood' incident, he hadn't insulted her once, and even called her Hermione a few times. That had to mean something, right? I mean, sworn enemies just don't call each other by their first names, do they? And sworn enemies just don't tell their innermost secrets to each other?

But they weren't enemies anymore, not by any standards. He had been nice to her, even charming. Draco Malfoy, charming? It was nice to be flattered by a boy for a change, even if he was just doing it because he enjoyed watching her squirm. Well, she wasn't going to let him let this crush get the best of her.

Oh damn, it's a crush isn't it. It was no secret that Malfoy was easy on the eyes, but he never seemed like he was 'boyfriend material.' After all, when someone is throwing insults at you, you don't really think about how nice it would be to spend some time with them. But today was different.

No, Hermione, it's forbidden. Don't even think about it. That was it, she couldn't give into it. She was letting him get the best of her and make her lose control of herself. She couldn't give in to a Slytherin, even if it was such a good-looking one.

Nope, no crush on Draco Malfoy here! It was impossible. How had she even been as silly as to think that she had liked him? Just a little passing phase, that's all. Nothing more.

I wonder if my slap hurt him, Hermione thought to herself, as she drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face.

~*~§~*~

However, a smile was the last thing to be found on the face of Draco Malfoy. He made his was down to the Slytherin common room after the library. "Bah Humbug!" he barked to the painting and it flew open, Draco walking inside.

He walked through the common room, ignoring everyone around him; even stupid Pansy who was teasing him to come and talk to her. Yeah, like he'd ever give that ugly pug the time of day. He made it to his private Head's room, and threw down his book bag.

What the hell was I thinking? He said to himself. She's just a stupid mudblood. That's all. But he knew it was far from the truth. She wasn't just some 'stupid mudblood.' She was a beautiful girl, and her name was Hermione. I can't like her. It's against everything Father ever taught me.

Ahh, yes, father. Wasn't he just a wonderful man. Draco sighed as he sat down in his oversized black leather chair that he had taken from his study at home. He couldn't go on like this. He would have to choose one way or the other.

Father warned me to stay away from her. He told me she was nothing but a wicked little mudblood who would get what's coming to her. He was wrong about a lot of things, but all of Lord Voldemort's supporters couldn't have been wrong as well. Muggles weren't meant to be messed with.

And who the hell is Granger, acting like she's some sort of goddamn saint or something, helping me out? I didn't make her do it, she did it all on her own. I didn't make her help me. I just asked her, and she wanted to. I couldn't care less if she helped me or not.

"She's not worth it!" he screamed as he hurled a tea cup at the wall. It shattered in a thousand pieces. This is all so fucked up. She's such a disgrace, no one deserves to ever be with her. She has no place in the world of wizardry.

Or maybe that's me.

And that stupid little slap didn't even hurt.

~*~§~*~

Ron Weasley sat in Potions. Today was a special treat - Divination, then double Potions with the Slytherins. Nothing said 'I love you' from Professor Snape quite like him taking fifty points from Gryffindor for Harry breathing out loud... or Ron's hair becoming even redder than it already was. Something silly like that.

He had given up on flicking little bits of parchment down the back of Pansy Parkinson's school shirt. Half a dozen times was a small victory in itself, and he figured he should stop before his luck in Snape not noticing him ran out.

"Hey," he leaned over, whispering to Harry as soon as Snape's back was turned. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Hmmm?" Harry was furiously scribbling notes, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"I asked what you are doing tonight."

Harry face went white. He turned to his red-haired best friend, a look of astonishment on his face. "Ron! I thought we both agreed that we liked being friends much better than anything else, and that we were going to keep it that way!"

Ron's face went blank, and then a look of realization swept across his face. "God I wasn't talking about that, you prat. I mean, do you have any plans for this evening - you know, the period before we turn ur dormitory lights out and go to sleep?"

Harry smiled. Some things should not have been shared between best friends. "I see what you mean, Ron. I already have plans, but what did you have in mind?"

"I wanted to play chess... see if I can still beat you senselessly." Both boys grinned. Ron's prowess on the chess board was well-known amongst the seventh-years - well, the seventh-years and Ginny, of course. "But if you've got plans tonight..."

"Yeah." Harry settled back into his seat, continuing to scribble notes.

A long paused ensued. Finally, it was Ron who broke it. "So, who've you got plans with? Hermione?"

It was no secret that Harry had a crush on Hermione, but he didn't think that Ron would go as far as to venture the guess as her. "No, Ron you silly git, don't you think I'd have told you sooner if it was her? I'm doing something with Dex tonight."

Ron pursed his lips. "I see. No time for you best friend, then, eh Harry?"

Harry sighed. "Ron, it's just that -"

"It's quite all right. I have another best friend, you know." Ron turned to Hermione. "Hermione, love, what are you doing tonight?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, actually, I have plans."

Harry and Ron stared at her. "Plans?" Ron repeated. "Who do you have these plans with?"

Hermione got even redder. "None of your business."

"It very bloody well is my business, Hermione Granger! When you speak like that, I start thinking you're going to be doing something awful, like spending quality time with Malfoy or something like that." Ron looked up just in time to see the platinum-haired Slytherin sneer at him.

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione replied, clearly flustered. "Like I would ever do anything like that." The three of them chuckled.

~*~§~*~

Hermione and Draco made their way into the library study room, where they had agreed to attempt to remove the Mark. "Do you have everything, Malfoy?" she asked him. "Because, if you don't, we won't be able to do this."

"Relax, Mudblood, I'm not going to ruin the project," he said coolly.

"HOW DARE YOU!!!" she exploded. She was in his face now. "After all I'm doing for you; you still have the blatant audacity to call me that! And here I thought you had changed!"

"Yeah, well you thought wrong," he mumbled.

Hermione was fuming by now. "You self-centered, two-bit, over-dressed, self-absorbed, stuck-up, half-witted, son of a bitch!" For a second, she thought he looked shock to see her swear. "Yeah, that's right Malfoy. Hermione said a bad word. With an attitude like yours, I don't think anyone can help but cuss in your presence. If I was any less of a person I would leave you right here, report your Death-Eating arse to Dumbledore, and let you carry out the future that your ikkle little father had planned for you."

"I'm not done!" He had started to open his mouth to protest, but she quickly silenced him. "You think you're so special, don't you, with your Malfoy name, and your Malfoy good looks," she as spitting it out now, "and your Malfoy money, and your Malfoy attitude. Well I've got news for you, Chief-of-all-things-Malfoy: you're nothing special. You're nothing more than an average student whose daddy was a bad man with a lot of money. You strut around like you're kind of the bloody world, when in reality you're nothing more than a sad little boy who happens to make a damn good ferret."

Silence. "You really think I'm good looking?"

"FUCK you, Malfoy."

"Sounds like a plan. Are you done?"

"YES I'M DONE!!! ARE YOU?"

"Yes."

"GOOD! Let's start making it then." She began reading off ingredients that she needed. "Eye of Newt... 2 Phoenix feathers... one salamander..."

"Do you realize I have to drink this garbage?" he complained.

"Well you're the one who thought it would be cute to become a Death Eater. You're not the only one who has a right to complain. I have to touch it, not to mention touch you in the process. So stop whining." She paused. "Three ounces unicorn blood," she continued. "That's to counteract the evil already in it - or you, I'm not really sure which. And three cloves of Fasper Root."

Draco looked up from the cauldron as he handed her the last of the ingredients. "You know what, Granger?"

"What Malfoy?"

"I'm almost gonna miss the little guy on my arm."

She was repulsed. "You can't mean--you liked it? You're one of them?"

"Well, I could always tickle it and it wouldn't bite me," Draco replied, thinking back to Herbology his second year. Damn mandrakes. "In fact, he giggled. And at times when I got lonely, we'd talk to each other. He's become like a part of me, and I'm going to be sorry to see him go."

"Malfoy, have you gone totally daft? You like that thing?"

His face quickly went from a smile to a scowl. "Of course I don't like it, Granger. Would you like it if you had the mark of a bloody Death Eater on your arm and back? Jeez, it was a fucking joke. Maybe if you got your nose out of those books once in awhile you'd recognize one when you heard it."

"Maybe if you got your nose out of Voldemort's arse, you could learn how to tell one," she retorted.

They sat in the room, saying nothing for a few minutes. Finally, it was Hermione who broke the silence. "All right, it's ready. Take your robe off."

"A little forward, aren't we Miss Granger?" Draco teased her.

"Just take it off."

He contemplated for a minute while he took off his robes and his shirt. Finally, "You know, Granger, I never officially thanked you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me, Malfoy."

"The rules that my father imposed on my family demand that I do. We are required to thank anyone whom we are imposing upon in any way. However, the rules strictly forbid thanking muggles, but I'm willing to ignore that little technicality considering that this is a mighty huge favor. So thank you, Granger, for helping me."

Hermione looked over at him. This wasn't some little ploy to get her to seem like a fool, or for him to seem like some sort of hero. It was just a boy - her sworn enemy, to be precise - thanking a girl - a muggle-born - for helping him. It was too priceless. "You're welcome."

She poured some of the potion into a cup. "Do you know what the affects of this will be, Draco?" He shook his head. "It sucks out your soul, but only for awhile. Its affect is essentially that of a dementor's." He shuddered, and she handed him the cup. "Drink up."

Draco took the cup filled with red glistening liquid, and drank it. He drank every last drop of it. After only a few seconds, he began sweating. His insides felt so cold and so hollow, and he felt like he was never going to feel anything happy again.

Hermione grabbed his forearm, which was clammy to the touch, and took a little bit of the potion on her fingertips. She began gently rubbing the potion into the Death Mark, it contorting as she did so. Draco began growing weaker and weaker.

"Finite Incantatum," she whispered. A wisp of blue came out from his arm, and formed itself just to the side of Draco. It was a miniature, transparent, Lucius Malfoy. "Oh, Draco," she whispered softly. She had no idea that his father, even in death, would be the thing he feared the most. "Dormius mortus." The silhouette of Lucius turned into Knut.

By now, Draco was sprawled out on the floor, nearly passed out. Hermione rolled him over, and attempted to sit him up. "Come on, Draco, we need to do it one more time. Can you do that for me?"

His glazed and lifeless eyes looked up at her. "Don't talk to me like I'm a goddamned five year-old on my deathbed," he said half-minded. "Just give me the stuff." She handed him the second glass of the potion, and he drank it all, collapsing back down on the ground.

Hermione once again added some of the potion to her fingertips. When she placed her fingertips to Draco's back, her hand jumped a little. His skin was so warm and so smooth, its touch to hers was electric. She began massaging the potion into Malfoy's back. His nice, toned back. Oh Lord.

"Finite Incantatum," she whispered, and the same thing happened. A blue mist came out of his back, and molded itself in front of Hermione. This time, instead of being Lucius, it was a miniature silhouette of Draco. Draco was most afraid of himself. She had no idea. "Dormius mortus," she mumbled, and Mini Draco turned into a Knut, as well.

Draco was in an awful condition. He was wet and clammy all over, and was barely conscious at this point. Hermione was flooded with pity for the boy who feared his father and himself. She stood up, taking a seat to wait for him to wake up when--

"Hermione?"

She was shocked that he was conscious, let alone could speak. "Yeah, Draco?"

"Don't leave me." Without any insults, sneers, or sarcastic tone in his voice, he had called her Hermione. She sat down next to him, and began to gently run her fingers through his hair. It was the weakest she had ever seen him. "Hermione, promise me you won't go."

He did it again. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes for this boy she had never known but had sworn to hate. And now he was the boy she understood and certainly didn't hate anymore. "I promise, Draco. I promise I won't leave."

So she didn't.

~*~§~*~

Draco awoke several hours later to excruciating pain. The room around his was dark, save for a small candle. It took him a few moments to realize that his head was cradled in somebody's lap. He groaned and looked up, a pair of brown eyes greeting him.

"Draco?" Hermione asked softly, gently rubbing his shoulder. He barely nodded. "How are you feeling?" He groaned even more. "Okay, we can stay here a little while longer."

"No, Granger." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Need to go to dungeons."

"No, not in your condition, Draco," she said firmly, raising his head and propping a pillow underneath it. "You're not in any shape to go anywhere."

He cleared his throat. "Time?"

She raised her wrist and checked her watch. "It's almost midnight."

"Curfew," he whispered, looking up at her.

"We'll be really careful," she replied .

"No!" he hissed sharply. "Book bag..."

"You want me to get something out of your book bag?" He nodded, and she sighed. The book bag wasn't within reach. "Draco, it's all the way over there. I'm going to have to get up."

"No, witch," he managed to croak out. "Magic."

Hermione could have slapped herself for being so ignorant. Seven years as a witch and she still hadn't quite grasped the fact that she could use magic outside of the classroom. She reached into her robes and pulled out her wand. "Accio, book bag," she commanded, waving her wand. The book bag flew across the room and landed in her outstretched hand. She set down her wand, and opened up the book bag. Inside was a watery, shimmery fabric.

"Cloak," Draco said, finally smiling a little. "My invisibility cloak."

Hermione had to smile as well. If there was one thing she had learned about her former arch-nemesis, it was that he came prepared. Nice, Draco. Very nice. "Well how long do you plan on waiting here?"

"You can go," he said meagerly. "I'll stay here."

"Oh no you don't, Draco Malfoy. I'm not going to leave you alone like this. After what you just went through. No, I'm staying right here."

"Thanks, Granger," he managed, closing his eyes. His tone towards her had changed, and her last name just didn't roll off the end of his tongue with a spit. It almost sounded as if it was a term of endearment. "Five more."

She nodded as he drifted back off to sleep. She began running her fingers through his hair and going over things in her head. Here she was. With Draco. Draco Malfoy, the son of a Death Eater. Draco Malfoy who always went on about how he hated muggles. Draco Malfoy, who said their second year that he wanted her to die. Draco Malfoy, who calls her 'mudblood' and insults her friends, and tries to get Hagrid fired.

Then again, he was also a special case. Draco had had his whole life led for him. He had been his father's puppet. Draco wasn't really afraid of muggles or good magic or any of that stuff. Draco was most afraid of his father and himself. This wasn't a little boy who was out to bow to evil and destroy mankind. This was a little boy trapped in a man's body, who was beginning to think on his own for the first time. He still didn't know who he was.

Hermione leaned back against the wall. She took Draco's invisibility cloak and balled it up behind her head. Despite what Draco said, she wasn't about to wake him up in five minutes. She drifted off, thoughts of him never straying far from her mind...

~*~§~*~

Hermione Granger woke up to a surprise. Having fallen asleep in the study room, her neck had the biggest crick in the world in it. But that wasn't the oddest thing. Draco was curled up next to her, invisibility cloak thrown over them both. Her arm was around his shoulders, and his head was resting comfortably in the crook of her arm.

Bugger, Hermione thought. I really shouldn't be like this. She checked her watch - three in the morning. Should I wake Draco up? Luckily, she didn't have to think much longer about it. Draco woke up, apparently feeling a little bit better. He looked up at her, and smiled.

"Draco," she whispered. "We should go back."

He rested his head back on her arm. "I know we should. But do you really want to?"

She smiled. "I've been in worse places. You?"

He grinned as well. "Well my neck does hurt..." He saw the shocked look on her face. "Just kidding! Here's not too bad."

"Not bad, eh?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Hermione, I know how much time you took out of your own schedule just to help me. Why you helped me, I don't know, but I'm glad you did. Thanks."

She blushed. Good thing he can't see me. "It was good for me too, Draco. I've been friends with the Boy-Who-Lived for so long, it was only proper that I get to know the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Me. It was good."

"And? What did you learn?"

"That you've never had it as easy as anyone thought you did." She rested her head on top of his. "That you like to put on a good show for an adoring audience." She paused. "That you really don't belong in Slytherin."

If Hermione could've seen him, she would've seen the biggest smirk that even money couldn't buy. "Oh? And where do I belong, Granger?"

"You don't belong in any of them, Draco. You're not like the rest."

He let out a short laugh. "I am rather unique, aren't I?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, Draco Malfoy, you are. You are a unique and beautiful snowflake."

"You really think I'm beautiful?"

"You're better looking than Snape." She giggled.

"Haha, Sexy Sevvy? Snape turns gay men straight, all because they don't want him as part of their options." Hermione fought to choke back a laugh. "Of course, he turns all straight women gay. I don't know which is better."

"Oh, come on, Draco, he's not that bad."

"HA! When you've seen him in nothing but a kilt singing 'Scotland the Brave,' you can tell me that he's not all that bad." He stood up. "Come on, Granger. We should get back to the rooms." He stood up and offered his hand to her.

Hermione took the outstretched hand and pulled herself up. She stood up, and stretched out her back a little. Draco still didn't let go over her hand.

"You all right, Granger?"

She smiled. "Never better." He squeezed her hand. Suddenly, he stumbled a bit. Hermione let go of his hand and steadied him. "Draco, you need to get back to the dungeons. I'm sure they'll be missing you."

"Oh yeah," he said sarcastically as he threw his cloak on over himself. "Goyle can't even remember my name, and Crabbe won't even notice I'm gone. I doubt they are missing me."

"At any rate," she said, her shoulders supporting his arm as he stumbled along, "you need to get back." They continued to walk down the flights of stairs to the dungeons, Hermione pausing occasionally to steady Draco. The made it in front of the portrait of the Bloody Baron, and Draco stood tall.

"Well?" Hermione questioned, wondering why he was taking so long.

"I'm not saying the password with you here, Granger."

She sighed. "Jeez, Malfoy, I'm not going to tell anyone. And you can just change it tomorrow anyway so get over yourself."

"Fine," he snapped, and turned to the portrait. "Good evening, Baron," he said, clicking his heels together and bowing slightly, slightly tipping himself over until Hermione caught him. "The password is 'Severus Snape is a chubby bunny.'" The portrait hole swung open.

Hermione steadied Draco, and helped him inside the portrait. As soon as he was in, he collapsed in a heap, bringing her down with him. He sat up, as did Hermione. "Well, Granger, thanks for walking me back." He inched in closer to her face.

"You're welcome," she said. Closer.

"I owe you..." Even closer. Hermione could feel his breath on her lips.

"Yes, Draco, you certainly do." She closed her eyes and moved in for the kiss. But when the kiss should have come, Hermione just heard a flop. She opened her eyes suddenly, and saw Draco lying on the floor, snoring lightly. Hermione kissed the air where Draco's mouth would have been. "Goodnight."