Draco kept a lot of secrets. He wouldn't tell Crabbe or Goyle what he was doing in the Room of Requirement. He wouldn't tell Pansy how undeniably terrified he was, and he didn't tell himself that he definitely wasn't going to be able to do what the Dark Lord had commanded him to do. He was no longer allowed a lot of happiness in the world. However, he thought, as he sulked in the shadows towards an open door, there were, of course, small rewards he allowed himself. When he entered the room, the door was automatically shut and sealed shut. They were in a very old part of the castle. He had never been here before, and judging by the dust settled on the floor, the teachers didn't patrol it. Maybe that was why she had chosen it. When he turned, he saw Hermione sitting timidly on an old desk, her legs crossed, her hair tied up in a messy bun. He thought the look suited her. Especially when curly locks fell from it to frame her face.
She had abandoned her robes, they probably laid in a corner somewhere, now only wearing standard school uniform. Skirt, and a white shirt with the Gryffindor tie. "Nice charm." He spoke at last.
"Well I'm sure any Hogwarts teacher could break it, but I don't think they'll come up here. I mean- they don't come up here as far as I know." She responded. Typical Hermione.
"I doubt it." He responded, advancing on her, "I bet you'd have every teacher here stubbed. Smartest witch of our age, aren't you? My father would have a fit. 'A mudblood!' but I know different, don't I?" He know loomed over her, but she didn't reply. Just sort of glared back up at him, red in the face. It was cute, really. "Oh honey," he continued, unbuttoning her top button, then the one below it. "I definitely know better."
He kissed her. She was so warm, and comforting. Tears would have sprung to his eyes under different circumstances. The sort of heart attack his mother would have if she ever knew he loved a mudblood.
He helped her onto her feet, her wobbled a bit, probably, hopefully, from her arousal. He spun her in a circle, and held her close to him, swaying back and forth. "Draco, er, what are you doing?" She questioned. He thought she would've asked it again, so he dipped her so low her head brushed the floor. It was a stupid question anyway. It was pretty obvious what he was doing. She caught on, though. Thankfully. She put her hand in his and together they danced to their own footsteps.

After a bit they fell to floor, both a little breathless. He had succeeded in making her skirt rise so high that he could see her knickers, or lack of, anyway. "Hermione, where are you knickers?"
"I lost them." said Hermione. "Don't lie to me." He said, glaring at her. She merely giggled. "Who said I was lying?"
He gave a growl and climbed atop her, looming inches above her face. She giggled louder. "I've lost my knickers!" She exclaimed. Draco gave a sigh, and kissed her roughly, his body pressed against hers in a very incriminating sort of way.
"Oh dear," she breathed into lips, "I can't believe I lost my knickers."

He had to admit, it was starting to be funny.

A few weeks later, Slughorn had partnered the two together.
"You know," he drawled quietly as he cut up roots, "all I really remember is you repeatedly telling me that you lost your knickers."
"Shut up." She replied in a voice sweet as honey, her face brighter than a Weasley's hair.