Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are not mine. The mistakes are, though.

Enjoy! XD

She had endured him for five years while he went on doing whatever he pleased. She endured everything, she endured him and his pale, sneering face, for five years.

Five years was long enough.

She wasn't going to tolerate him. She was a prefect. He was, too. But it wouldn't change anything.

Not anymore.

Chapter I

The Letter

"Malfoy!" The name rang loud and clear, and the one being called raised his head, ever so calmly, his deep blue eyes, alight with malice, now meeting a pair of angry ones as he looked over his shoulder. His burly companions, Crabbe and Goyle, turned and followed his gaze, frowning when they saw who was standing behind them; he, however, smiled, pleased to see her in a fine rage.

"Granger." His voice was smooth and lax, unshaken by her look of purest loathing.

"You… How could you…" said Hermione, her jaw set, threatening to spill out the rest of her ire.

"How could I?" repeated Draco, giving his ridiculing smile. "Yes, Granger, how could I?" he said, mocking her words. She glowered at him, exasperated, and he drew satisfaction from this.

"How dare you hex Harry and Ron behind the Professor's back!" she said. The two tall, muscular boys who flanked Draco had not even intimidated her, and she raised her chin, maintaining the look of dignified infuriation.

"Hex Potter and Weasley?" said Draco, raising a thin eyebrow, unimpressed. "Are accusing me again, Granger?"

"I know you did it." Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, so that he grew slightly irritated, and frowned as well.

"You weren't even there to witness what really happened."

"Dean and Neville told me," said Hermione, "and they saw you."

"But you didn't," Draco pointed out flatly. Her glare faltered by the slightest at his statement, and his smile returned, dancing derisively across his pale lips. "You can't keep on accusing me without concrete evidence, Granger," he said, turning away with an air of triumph. He looked over his shoulder, his smile widening. "It wouldn't be a smart thing to do." His companions smirked and turned away as well.

"Malfoy!" There was a sharpness in her voice that made him turn around to face her once more. He froze. She was holding her wand and pointing it directly at him, which made him flinch inwardly; Hermione had not hesitated to smack him back in third year, he remembered. She would not hesitate again. The grip on her wand and the flash of enragement in her eyes proved that.

"You wouldn't dare," he said darkly, his voice taunting her, annoying her, so that she gripped her wand much tighter. Little sparks sprang out, threatening to shoot out a spell, a dangerous one.

"I would," said Hermione, and the chill in her voice almost frightened him. He never saw her in such a fit of rage, the sort that overcame all rationality, the reckless type, so seeing that she bore it right now, alarmed him.

"You're a prefect."

"It wouldn't hurt to break the rules once in a while," she said severely. "And it's quite worth it, really." And she smiled, despite herself.

This unnerved him and his lip curled, an irritated "Tch" escaping. His composure still intact, he managed to reply, "And you'll endanger the whole Gryffindor House just for the sake of a Potty and a Weasel?" He saw her react, her eyes flashing with a look of worry. It disappeared in a thrice, when he smirked.

"Don't call them that," she growled.

"My, you're getting selfish these days, Granger," Draco went on pleasantly, ignoring her exasperation. "Taking advantage of your authority, are you? Being the tyrant now? I must say, Granger, it suits you—"

"And what can you say about yourself?" Hermione shot back, her fists shaking.

"Why, I am but a humble, rule-abiding student," said Draco innocently. The mocking curve of his lips, and his disdainful gaze betrayed his candid expression, which irritated Hermione all the more. But she could do nothing anymore. Though she hated to admit it, Draco was right: if she was caught hexing a student—a prefect, for that matter—then she would have to pay at the cost of the Gryffindor House.

Hermione lowered her wand, until it dropped to her side, clenched tightly in the trembling hand. He took it as a sign of defeat and earned himself a withering glare as he smiled his derisive smile, and turned away for the final time.

"It was pleasant seeing you, Granger," Draco said, waving an idle hand as he walked away, Crabbe and Goyle grinning alongside him like idiots.

It was most difficult, but she forced herself to turn away and walk the opposite direction. The best she could do before they parted ways was give him her worst glare.

The next morning…

Breakfast was wonderful, never failing to contain the most tasty dishes and delectable treats, and the atmosphere was bright and cheerful, the air filled with laughter and noisy chatters. Hermione ignored the banter around her, and continually stared into space, leaning her cheek into her hand. Her food was hardly touched, her book open, but apparently useless as of the moment, as her mind was elsewhere.

"Hey, are you alright, Hermione?" a concerned voice broke into her thoughts. Hermione recovered from her reverie, and looked at Harry, not missing to see the bandage plastered across the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah," she said.

"Blimey, Hermione," said Ron, who had two intercrossed bandages on his cheek. "You've actually been staring into space for twenty minutes! That's a new record!"

Normally, she would glare at him for his crude jokes. But she couldn't bring herself to get mad at him, not when she saw his wounded face. And so she replied with a halfhearted "Really?" and looked down at her open book, Confronting the Faceless, which rested on her goblet of pumpkin juice. Seeing their wounded faces and remembering what happened the previous day pained her, and she felt anger flare at the memory of who had caused them injury in the first place.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Harry.

"No." There must have been something else in her face, because Ron pressed, concern lacing his voice, "You sure, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron," she said patiently, raising her eyes from the book to gaze at him, "I am. Don't worry, I'm fine."

He looked unconvinced, but said, "Alright" and resumed eating. Harry took this as a sign to be quiet, too and focused his attention on his plate.

The awkward silence among the trio was promptly interrupted when the mail arrived. Owls streamed in through the window by the hundreds, flying here and there in search for their respectable owners and when having done so, drop parcels and letters.

As usual, there came the paper of the Daily Prophet from an owl she recognized, but before she could open it, another owl, a barn owl, dropped a letter into her lap, before zooming out through the window with the rest of his companions. Hermione stared at the letter in surprise. She didn't remember writing to anyone, not even her parents. Taking it cautiously, she saw it looked rather fancy because of the green seal. There was a short message elegantly written in front (she thought she recognized the penmanship, but couldn't remember whose it was) and it said in two lines: Intended only for Hermione Granger; Read immediately. She quickly took it to her lap and opened the letter carefully. She ignored the curious looks on both Harry and Ron, and read the small parchment, which contained the elegant penmanship. It said in bright, green ink:

Mudblood,

If you badly want to discuss what happened yesterday, meet me in the Slytherin common room at 6PM. The password is 'Parseltongue' .The Potty and Weasel better not know any of this. Come alone.

There was no name of the sender, but she knew that only one person would call her 'Mudblood', Ron 'Weasel' and Harry 'Potty'. She looked past the Hufflepuffs, at the Slytherins, scanning for his pale, arrogant countenance. But she couldn't see him. Her gaze shifted to those closest to her, to Harry and Ron, who instantly felt they were being looked at; they looked at her, silent, but curious still. She tore her gaze away. She wanted to tell them about the letter, but thought better. She could already imagine their shocked faces: Ron would say, "You're mental if you do what he's telling you!" "He's right, Hermione," Harry would agree in his calm voice. "Don't go. It's for the best."

But she won't. Suspicious as it was, she knew she had to go and settle matters with Draco Malfoy.

And with that, Hermione Granger folded the parchment, and kept the letter safely in her bag. They didn't ask, but she said to satisfy their curiosity, "My parents. They're worried again." And they did seem to believe her and resumed eating.

So there was a prologue in the first part (obviously), so...yeah.

This is my second Harry Potter fic; it'll be the first to be extended into chapters…if you'll allow me to. Did I do okay? Thanks for reading, by the way. (Hey, it rhymes! XD)

Your reviews please! :D