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Chapter 1—The Mix in the Common room

On Christmas morning, Draco was alone in the common room, his Potions essay spilt all over the arm chair. It was 5:30 AM. He felt a stab of annoyance at the blizzard outside, preventing all of Hogwarts from leaving over Christmas break.

Meanwhile, Hogwarts was nearly in ruins. The entire Ravenclaw dormitory had been damaged by a huge gust of wind and an ice storm. Temporary housing had been set up in the Defense classroom for Ravenclaw while the Gryffindors had been mercilessly packed into the Slytherin dorm when their tower came crashing to the ground. Hoards of parents were threatening to remove their children from the school . . . if any of them could find their way through the blinding blizzard.

Dumbledore was no help. He had gone temporarily insane . . . again. He had ordered prefects to look after first years while he stayed cooped in his office never taking his eyes off of the Phoenix by Herbal Essences stocks. Occasionally he sent Harry to bring him lemon-infused soda.

Anything out of the ordinary seemed to happen. Living proof came of this as Blaise, who never usually woke before noon, trampled down the stairs looking murderous.

"I accidentally set my alarm in my sleep," Blaise murmured in response to Draco's arched eyebrow.

"Genius as always," Draco muttered. "Hey, do you know where I left the hot chocolate mix? I swear to Slytherin I left it right next to my essay."

"Um, well . . . it's not really my fault . . . you see because well . . ." Blaise sputtered.

"Blaise why did you give . . . wait did you keep the mix for yourself or did you give it to Ginny?"

"What's the right answer?" Blaise asked, blocking his head from punching range with a giant binder.

"Ginny, right? Yay," said Draco sarcastically. "Wait for it."

"What?" Blaise asked, throwing down the binder now that he was safe.

"5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2," Draco murmured, and on the last number Ginny, a second early, bounded down the stairs nearly vibrating with energy.

"Hi guys," Ginny said quickly, jumping around the room. "Guess what guess what guess what? Harry went to the hospital wing! I'm so happy I need to eat more chocolate! Chocolate! GIVE ME CHOCOLATE! Oh you guys are luuuuucky I got hot chocolate! I'M HYPER!"

"Nice going, Blaise," Draco sneered, eyeing Ginny as if she was scum on the bottom of his shoe.

"Lighten up Draco," Ginny rolled her eyes and kissed Blaise on the cheek. "It was you left the hot chocolate mix out."

"Yeah, dude," said Blaise.

"Isn't Harry going to figure out you're cheating on him?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes, knowing that Blaise really had no idea what was going on, just to agree with Ginny.

"What a stupid question," Ginny scoffed. "No because he is as oblivious as a pack of slugs, which is why no one will date him."

Then, she made out with Blaise. For a while.

"Um, hello, other person here!" Draco said, waving his arms.

"Draco can you go downstairs?" asked Ginny, mid-kiss. "You're making it awkward."

"Of course," he rolled his eyes and walked out through the portrait hole.

Draco had been sitting outside of Potions, his first class for the day, for a little under an hour, when Pansy strolled by, having mysteriously woken up before 10. If she had set her alarm clock in her sleep too, he might just die of irritation.

When she saw Draco, she gasped, eyes bugging out of her head, and ran back out of his sight.

Then, exactly ten seconds later, she walked by with a smug look on her face, her legs strutting to a beat, and an attempt at a model-esque flirty look on her face.

"Oh hi Drakey, didn't see you there," she said, raising an eyebrow towards her black bangs.

"I'm sure," Draco snapped, really irritated that Parkinson had interrupted him right in the last line of his History of Magic essay.

"You never used to be this bored," Pansy said, swiveling her head in a way that she thought was appealing. "Are you sure you don't need a little time with me to, you know, spice it up?"

"I'll take you up on that offer next time we go out," Draco said. "But for now, we're pretending that Thanksgiving never happened."

"Never?" Pansy said. "Because I remember it distinctly."

"Oh, you don't even know what that means," muttered Draco.

"I might not, but at least I don't deny the past," Pansy said. "You could meet me again you know. I forgive easily."

"Look Pansy you know I only kissed you because I was drunk," Draco muttered angrily. "We had been broken up for over two months at that point."

"Call it whatever you want, but I felt sparks," Pansy lowered her voice.

"Yes, I was blown away by your beauty," Draco murmured sarcastically.

"Of course you were," said Pansy coolly, ignoring Draco's dig. "There's no one not affected."

"Oh please," Draco scoffed. "I was more impressed that you managed to wake up before dinner."

"Oh yeah," Pansy said, stepping a little closer to Draco, a menacing glare pasted on her face. "Well I was more impressed that you . . . that you . . . er . . . managed to lose all that fat you gained."

Draco turned back to his History of Magic textbook, wondering what the hell Pansy was talking about.

It was another half an hour before the next person passed through the hallway.

"Nice crutches," Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oy, you shut up before I make you!" said Harry, attempting to limp on.

"If only you had a sense of humor, then you could see how hilarious this is," Draco said silkily, tossing a piece of gum in the path of the Goth.

"You know so well that I got these uber-manly wounds—"

"You just said uber," Draco said with a smug look on his Adonis-like face. "You are the manliest wimp I've ever seen." He gave an eye roll.

"So what!" Harry shrieked, then nearly tripped on his crutches. "I got busted playing Quidditch with Ron at night and I got knocked off my broom by Filch."

"Filch!" Draco gave a sharp laugh. "Were you hovering two feet above the ground on a toy? Or were you just on the ground?"

"It was three feet for your information," Harry snarled, not liking it when people brought up his outdated broom and disgusting flight 'skills.' "And I still beat Ron!" Harry beamed proudly, while attempting to pry the gum off his crutch.

"That's like saying you beat a bran muffin with raisins," Draco laughed.

"No one calls my friend that and gets away with it!" Harry sneered, only it wasn't as attractive as Draco's sarcasm.

"Just cut the dramatics and curse me already," Draco fake-yawned and was about to toss some more gum at him.

"Really? No fight to the death speech?" Harry looked astounded, as if someone had just told him that Dumbledore had sworn off lemon drops. "Well okaaaaaaay, if you insist. You should have wanted a chance to say your last words. Fernuncu—"

Draco had punched him in the mouth, and Harry lay silent and still, his crutches lying around him.

Discreetly, Draco levitated Harry through the Potion door, hoping Snape possibly got blamed. Maybe then he could scrape an A in Potions.

An hour before Potions, a frantic Hermione Granger stumbled through the archway, her binders spilling everywhere. Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't have anything to return to. All of his homework was finished, and he couldn't face returning to the common room: they were probably throwing a Welcome Back party for Harry (what was that the millionth time he'd been in the hospital wing?).

Ugh. Just think: an hour stuck with that pathetic Mudblood Granger. Unlike Draco, she was not finishing her day's homework and reluctantly sat down next to him: it was either that or the floor, although it was only convenience to the classroom that Hermione was even within 10 feet of him.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, buttoning her white collared shirt another way up. She actually looked cute in her uniform top with the plaid skirt. Hermione made it seem very . . . not hot, but interesting. Even her hair seemed to look better than usual, tamed slightly, yet still with wild curls. Why hadn't he noticed her before?

Wait, wait, hold it. He hadn't noticed her before because she was an effin' Mudblood! And she was friends with wimpy Potter and muffin-like Weasley who couldn't afford the dirt under his own feet. And Ginny who was like a contaminated disease that curled through guy after guy until they were all sick.

"Gran—ger," he separated her name, trying to make up for the awkward silence.

Hermione seemed to be on the verge of a seizure, until she strangled herself into begrudging muttering, "Merry Christmas."

"Same to you, Mudblood," Draco said, wishing he had something to do other than stare at Hermione or the wall. "How's muffin-brain?"

"You mean Ron?" Hermione wore a shocked look on her face, and she twisted her hair around her thumbnail.

"Yeah, BFFs with the Goth who Lived," Draco said.

"Draco, I don't know whether to be more shocked that you know the word BFF or that you think Ron and I are dating," Hermione said.

Draco nearly barfed out his toast. "You considered d-a-ti . . . urgh, I can't even say it! Seriously 'Mione you dated a guy who's not even human?"

"Why are you calling me 'Mione?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"It's a hell of a lot better than Hermione, which must have been descended from some circus clown," Draco said. "And damn why are you calling me Draco?"

"Are you calling my mother a circus clown?" Hermione said, pushing her binders to the side.

"I think you know that I'm calling your mother something ten times as bad," Draco snarled.

"I think you're lucky I don't curse you," Hermione said. Draco had never noticed how her face puffed up when she got mad. It was slightly endearing, but not enough to get him to stop himself. She was rude and arrogant and she completely deserved it.

"I think I'm lucky you don't have the brains for Cruciatus." Hermione's lips twitched as Draco spoke and the way her hair stuck up looked like it was ready to explode.

"I think you should flush your head and live in the sewers with rats who still might have a higher GPA than you! And one day, you will even be thrown out of the sewers! And you will look for the subway but you'll be a hell of a lot too ugly to get on. When you try for the next one, you'll meet an ugly old lady wearing pancake make-up and neon pink eye shadow. You'll get married until she kicks you out and you end up living on the streets where a vampire comes and kills you, as your blood flows all around you. I will spit in your blood as I walk by."

"That was really epic, Granger," Draco fake-dabbed his eyes. "Spit on my blood! What do you think this is: some corny soap opera?" He roared with laughter.

"If this were a soap opera, we'd have kissed by now, and you'd have mentioned something about always loving me, when in actuality I am about to kick your arse from here to California." Hermione screeched, tearing Draco's essay into shreds.

"Which I'm sure you'd love!" Draco yelled, kicking her school books down the hallway. "You geek, always trying to fool me into talking to you!"

Hermione blushed. "You wish! How you're always eyeing me in the hallways, taking a step closer and then running away, all because some stupid muffin told you too! And what'd you do to Harry, leaving his crutches here! You just beat on people because you're too much of a selfish pig to admit how insecure you are!"

"Stupid muffin," Ron's voice descended down the steps. "Were you talking about me, 'Mione?"

"Quick," Hermione hissed. "Put the bench back."

In two seconds, Draco did his best to reassemble the best and he sat next to her.

"So it's just horrible that we have lessons over the holidays, isn't it?" Hermione said loudly.

"You are a horrible actress," Draco whispered through clenched teeth.

"Why are you with him, 'Mione?" Ron asked as he walked down the stairs. "Why are you talking? Why are you together? Why aren't you in a fist fight?"

"Ron, relax," Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're just both early."

"There's something you haven't been telling me, isn't there?" Ron asked, his eyes looking like a dejected puppy's . . . if that puppy had gone and poisoned itself with Dork-itis.

"I hate him," Hermione said to Ron. "Watch closely." And she slapped Draco, leaving a giant red mark across his face.

"50 points from Gryfindor, I believe," Snape's voice loomed over them.

"You don't understand Professor," Hermione said, feebly. She could never argue against Snape.

"Have some Christmas spirit, Snape," said Ron sarcastically.

"That's another 10, I believe," said Snape silkily. "Come along, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, and others." Snape sneered.

"I'm the only other here," Ron pointed to himself.

"Ron," Hermione shook her head, and collected her binders, as the rest of the class filed in, with Parkinson in the lead, attempting to cozy up to Draco.

"You really want to get to him?" a voice in her ear whispered.

"Ack," Hermione said, not sure on whether to say yes or no.

"Meet at Honeydukes at 4," Ginny spoke softly. "Trust me, I've got an entire line of people at my disposal."

Hermione attempted to make her lips form the words "I don't like Draco. Not that way. Not in any way."

But she couldn't, her lips wouldn't move.

She was in love with Draco Malfoy.