Worthless, filthy mudblood.

His words echoed in her ears.

Hermione clutched the silk, mint-green bag to her chest. She shut her eyes tightly in a feeble attempt to slow her rapidly-beating heart, but her efforts were fruitless. 'This is pointless,' she told herself pessimistically. 'He's just going to get cross with me.' That, of course, was undeniable. There was no way around it; it would happen inevitably… so why did she even bother?

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what had possessed or goaded her into going to visit Malfoy in the hospital wing - stinking, vile Malfoy - but now, she seemed to be doing it anyway, as if her feet had suddenly taken control instead of her brain. All during the walk down to the wing, she had told herself how utterly useless the trip was. He would never be friendly to her - never; no way; not possible. So why was she bothering to be friendly with him? It didn't make any sense, if you actually thought about it.

Well, Hermione had grown up quite a bit in the past few years - she was no longer the obstinate little girl she had once been. She was wise beyond her years, and caring - extremely caring - to those that she didn't even deem worthy of her time.

Hermione remembered her mother's words well: "Always try to be nice to everyone, even those who don't deserve it, because the meaner you are to them, they will throw it back at you and deserve your kindness less." True, the words didn't sound pretty or have any pleasant ring to them, but they were wise, and when her fifth year had started, Hermione followed them like a ritual. However, even though she tried as hard as she could to follow them precisely down to the very last letter, she found herself hesitating when it came to Draco Malfoy. Him and his little group of cronies were the most vile and mean creatures she had ever laid eyes upon. And as Malfoy was the leader, he was, naturally, the meanest of all of them.

She shut her eyes again, and then hesitantly opened them, lifting her gaze to reach the number on the brown door in front of her. There was a gold-colored "3" that was placed just above her full height against the door, and she knew well what it signified - Draco was in there. She had asked Madame Pomfrey what his room was, and that was what she had answered: 3. He had a private room for some reason, instead of the public one with many beds in one place. Hermione guessed it was because he was too proud to be seen by others when he was hurt.

He had gotten hurt during a quidditch game between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. He, the Slytherin Seeker, and Harry, the seeker for Gryffindor, had been chasing after the golden snitch when it made a sharp turn. Harry turned as well -- but Malfoy didn't. He flew straight into the boards at the side of the field, promptly knocking himself out.

Taking an extremely deep, long breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, she attempted to cleanse her wandering thoughts. 'I don't have to stay long… Just go in, wish him well, and leave. Go in, wish him well, and leave. That's all I have to do…' She took another deep breath. Why was she doing this? She hated Malfoy! And, of course, he was all too eager to return her loathing. Their meetings were never amicable; at least TWO insults always passed between them before one left (the one leaving was usually Hermione).

She knocked on the door. As soon as she did it, she cringed, wishing that she had never done the action in the first place. She wished she could just run back to the Gryffindor common room, talk with Ron and Harry, and forget that she was ever down here. But the hard thing was, she had passed the point of no return.

"Who is it?" Malfoy called. His voice was muffled by the closed door of course, but Hermione heard that his voice was slightly less spiteful and aggravated when he didn't know who he was talking to.

"Um... Um…" She said quietly, fumbling with her words. She could sense that Malfoy was waiting impatiently inside, so she finally spoke loud enough for him to hear "It's Hermione!"

As soon as the words emanated from her mouth, she wished she hadn't said anything. But she was past the second point of no return now. Draco said nothing. She assumed he was probably angry with her for wasting his time, so she tried to calm herself. Deep, cleansing breaths, Hermione… Just deep, cleansing breaths.'

Slowly, drawing her own tension out to a fine thread, she opened the door. She opened it only a little at first, glancing inside the room through the crack in the door only to find that Malfoy was glaring at her. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip desperately, then stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged.

"Granger," he said back, imitating her tone. "May I ask what the hell you're doing here?"

"Well," she answered quietly, staring at the floor between her feet underneath her. "I just…" she stammered, rewarded by Malfoy with a raised brow that clearly said 'Get to the point.' She inhaled through her nose, then collected her composure and stood up straight. "I came to ask if you were alright," she finally said.

"If I was alright? You and the weasel were cheering when it happened!"

"RON was cheering, not me." Hermione corrected. Draco scoffed.

"Whatever. Since when do you care if I'm alright?"

"Since you stupidly ran into the boards during the quidditch game."

He snorted.

"I'm still a better flier than Potty," he said snottily, sneering in that despicable Malfoy way.

"As I recall," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "Harry was the one who made the turn. Harry was the one who won the game."

Draco said no more on the subject.

"Why are you here?" He asked quizzically, but irritably.

"I just told you; to check on whether you were alright or not."

"That's not why you're here. You're a dirty liar. You probably came to insult me."

"Look…" Hermione said impatiently, drawing a still-wrapped chocolate frog out of the silk green bag she held. "Do you want these or not?"

"No," he sneered, "Not now that your filthy mudblood hands have touched them."

Hermione had enough. She raged, lips pursed and pressing into eachother, teeth gritted angrily. There was that word again. That vile, disgusting word. "You arrogant bastard!" She seethed, though trying to calm herself the whole time.

He had done it again. No matter what she tried to do, no matter what attitude she took with him - nice or mean, he always used that word. She had almost given up, but this was her final try. 'Well, no more' she thought bitterly.

"How DARE you! I tried to be NICE to you and you use that filthy word on me!"

"It's not the word that's filthy," he quipped, only to find a green bag full of chocolate frogs thrown directly at his face.

"I hope you enjoy them, you stupid, horrendous boy!" Hermione shouted before turning sharply on her foot, walking out, and slamming the door.

'Temper, temper...' Draco thought to himself, smirking as he glanced down at the chocolate frogs in his lap. Granger always had a bit of a temper, and he knew that the word "mudblood" only made it worse… Still, she was a Gryffindor, so he was practically required to be mean to her -- especially since it was the first time he saw her up close that year.

On the topic of seeing her, he had noticed something different about her: a new-found beauty, if you will. 'Not that Granger's beautiful, or anything…' he thought bitterly. 'She's still ugly as sin.' He noticed she had grown slightly taller, and her chocolate eyes had deepened some. In the past year, she had lost all the frizziness in her wild hair, and had tamed them to soft yet dramatic waves. Her skin was perfectly clear, and she stood straighter and was more alert. He also found that she had… er… developed quite a bit since last year; her high, prominent breasts showing well through her robes. He thought for a moment that she had become strangely attractive, but promptly dismissed that thought as false and returned to thinking how horrendously terrible-looking she really was.

'Oh well. At least I got food out of it.' He grinned to himself, just before picking up a chocolate frog and unwrapping it.

"Why does he have to be so mean?" Hermione bellowed, storming into the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron were eating from a veritable mountain of sweets, and Ron looked at her. "We told you he'd be an ass about it," he said, though his voice was muffled and his words jumbled by the chocolate that remained in his mouth. Harry politely swallowed before turning to Hermione, and he pursed his lips before speaking. "It's alright, Hermione. We'll get him back. What did he say, anyway?" He picked up a bag of every flavor beans and offered it to her, but she shook her head.

"He just used that stupid word again."

"Ahh," said Ron, "Mudbl--" He was cut off by a glare from Hermione.

Harry sighed, though he sounded enraged. "That bastard! I'll get him back for you, Hermione! Believe me, I will!" Hermione sighed, also.

"That's not necessary, Harry," she said solemnly. "He'll never learn."

Well, that's it. I know they got off to a rocky start, but things will improve later… This is my first fan-fiction EVER, so please go easy on me. XP Soon there will be more mature content, i.e swearing, sexual scenes (but NOT sexual intercourse… I'm pretty young here, people, give me a break!), maybe some violence.. stay away if you're under 14-15, or you feel you can't handle sexual situations!

Anyway, please, please review… and remember, I love you all. 3

3

-Sherri