"Would you mind bringing these towels up to Professor Dumbledore's office? The password is "sugar quills," spoke Mrs. McGonagall, as she briskly exited through the grand doors, leaving me by myself.

Quite stunned, I nodded, but she was already out of sight. Why would Professor Dumbledore need towels? I shook myself out of thought, reminding myself it was rude to stick your nose into other people's business. Realization came to me, and I slowly turned my head to the massive pile of white fluffy towels. I let out a fairly loud groan that echoed throughout the Room of Requirements. It was going to be a long haul.

As I grabbed the pile of towels, and headed down the long halls set for Dumbledore's office. I almost plunged to my death on a fake step. I screamed, with one arm still somehow keeping the towels in my clawing grip. Inside, I was thinking, "DAMN YOU PEEVES!" I saw the beginning of the reel of my life begin to play. But a strong hand caught my own.

My foot was on the edge of the ledge, the rest of me dangling over what seemed like a 2 story drop. The strangers arm pulled me up easily, along with the towels. The way they did it, it would seem as if I was as light as a feather.

When all of me was safely on the ground again, I pulled all of the towels into their original position in my arms. They towered over my head, making it impossible to see the person I should be thanking.

"Thanks." I sheepishly said. I popped my head to the side of the towels. "I really owe-"

Amused silver eyes met panicked chocolate ones. His hair messily fell into his face, which I admit, looks a lot better than when he greases it sleek. Not that it matters.

"Granger?"

"Malfoy?"

"…"

"…"

"Ewwwwwwww! I touched a mudblood! Now I'm infected with your germs!"

"Oh grow up, Malfoy! Why do you always have to be such a baby?!"

"Wow, Granger. I'm impressed by your selection of vocabulary."

"Oh, shove off Malfoy."

"Know-it-all."

"Ferret."

"Buck-toothed beaver."

"Selfish git."

"Teachers pet."

"Ugh! I can't deal with you right now. I have to go deliver these to Professor Dumbledore's office," Hermione said motioning to the towels in her hands.

"As if I care. Anyway, I was about to go disinfect my body and hope I don't die from mudblood's disease" Draco said, brushing invisible dirt off his shoulder.

"Creative."

"Tell me something I don't know. Toodaloo!" He said, waving his hand in a mock feminine style.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione swirled around, only to come face to face with Peeves, searching for his next victims. "And I think I just found them!" he thought to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Without a second thought, Peeves shoved Hermione into Draco. Unfortunately for the two, Draco was caught off guard by the weight, and suddenly lost balance. Clutching to each other, the pair of 7th years rolled down the grand stairs, right into a broom closet.

Groaning from the fall, Hermione slowly rose to her feet. She gingerly felt her head, and she could feel a sturdy lump forming. Examining her surroundings, she realized where she was. She passed this closet a million times on her way to Potions. She always imagined it as a small, dusty, dark, cold broom closet with no lights. She wasn't disappointed.

Now bringing her attention to Malfoy, she glared at the pathetic figure collapsed on the floor. Out of all the people in the school, the country, the world, the person she was stuck in here with was none other than Draco bloody Malfoy. Yeah, they would both die.

Looking at him more closely, Hermione realized he wasn't truly pathetic. Just ... lying there. He had grown a lot in the past years. "He has broad shoulders, large muscles, and has finally realized that gelling his hair looks stupid. It look better with his blonde hair dangling in his face- Nooooo! What am I thinking?! This is Malfoy for Pete's sake! Draco fricking Malfoy! I am just a very observant person, who needs to know everything at everytime. Yeah." Gazing down at Malfoy lost in thought, she started thinking about Ron and Harry. Did they notice she-

"As comfortable as I am with you staring at my glorious body, I would kindly ask you to give me back my wand." Started when the voice broke her thoughts, she squeaked. Once she regained her composure, she stood with her chin slightly up.

"I don't happen to have your wand, Malfoy."

Draco's annoyed expression turned into a glare. "You're lying."

Hermione lowered her chin to normal level, frowning. "No, I'm not."

Draco's grey eyes suddenly became determined. "I know you're lying, and it's not funny. Give me back my wand."

Hermione's eyes were now filled with fear. He sounded a lot more forceful and angry. She pushed that fear aside, her face harboring the exact image of confidence.

"I swear Malfoy, I don't have your wand."

Draco hated being lied to. He felt humiliated when lied to. Made fun of. Malfoys are never made fun of.

"Okay," he thought, "enough with this, time to get this back my way."