Author's Note: First fic, forgive anything I do wrong! This story's slightly OoC (Out of Character) at the beginning because I decided to skip the part where Hermione and Draco actually fall in love, and just began writing as if he was already reformed. The real beginning shall come, however. Patience, grasshopper!

It's funny, because I don't actually necessarily hate Pansy, but I just think she has a lot of dissembler potential. I mean, how can you resist a character that has the capacity to befriend so many people (okay, they're all Slytherins, but whatever, haha) but can be perfectly horrendous to others? That's probably why I can't resist Draco. And it's true, I can't. I think the reason I love Dramione fics so much is because I can identify a lot with Hermione, and I do love the bad boys. You should meet my boyfriend. He's pretty much the complete opposite of me, and that's the way I like it! Haha. But I digress. Onto the story. Read and review, please!

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Draco was stuck in the middle of a corridor, the one that was the most direct route from the Herbology greenhouses to the Gryffindor common room. He wasn't stuck by himself; in fact, it was the complete opposite. He was stuck, by the lips, to the one girl in the world whom he knew from experience had absolutely no conscience. Pansy and Draco both knew that Hermione always came down this corridor on Thursdays—why wouldn't she? It was the most direct route from Herbology, after all. This information had never been particularly interesting, let alone dangerous, to anyone before, but no one was really quite like Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy hated Hermione Granger. She hated her with all the passion in her soul, and honestly, she had a lot of passion in her soul. Although Draco always figured it was because she was jealous of their romantic relationship together, it went so much deeper than that. Parkinson hated the fact that this disgusting scum of a Mudblood could get something that none of the purest of pure Slytherins ever got, herself included. She hated that Granger, the biggest fucking know-it-all to walk the planet, managed to charm everyone in the entire world with her condescending goody-two-shoes attitude. More than that, even, she hated the fact that she was prancing around with Scarhead and Weaselface, "saving the world" from the most magnificent thing ever to happen to it. Pansy had known as soon as she saw Draco turn his eyes to meet hers in Potions one day that she could never let them be together. It was the biggest possible fucking disgrace to the wizarding world—a perfect pureblood specimen, finely tuned towards becoming one of the greatest supporters of the most powerful wizard in the world, fraternizing with pure filth? Because that's all Hermione would ever be, purely: filth.

Of course, there was more to the rivalry between The Mudblood, as Hermione had come to be commonly referred to in the Slytherin House—she was not just A Mudblood, that's for sure—and herself, but she had more to think about than linger on that for too long.

So Pansy took her revenge on Granger and Draco the best way she knew how, which was relatively terrifying because she knew how to take revenge in many different ways. She knew exactly how to stop Draco dead in his tracks, knew how much Hermione relied on her relationship with Draco to sustain her in her everyday life. Sure, it took time, but anything and everything with meaning does. Anyhow, she had plenty of time, at least while she was in school. She still had a couple months until she escaped this pathetic do-good school and actually taught people lessons they deserved to be taught.

Therefore, Pansy reasoned, she was just practicing for real life. And that's why she cast a spell – her very own creation, yes, yes, she was very proud – on Draco. And that's why he was stuck, with no hope of escape, to her lips.

He didn't know why, however. All he had grasped from this was that he and Pansy were going to walk down to lunch, as lifelong friends commonly do, when she suddenly remembered she had left her book in the History of Magic classroom. Just making a simple detour, the two starting walking there, until she abruptly shoved him down a hallway that didn't lead to the History of Magic classroom by any stretch of the imagination. Before he could say anything at all, however, he was pulled – no, really, more like brutally shoved – until his lips met hers. His arms, in a completely involuntary movement, pulled her waist closer. This, of course, is when he began to panic. Draco didn't want this. He didn't want Pansy. He really hadn't like Pansy this way in practically years. Okay, months. He just wanted to help her find her book, and then meet Hermione in the Great Hall. This was bad, how could he stop this, he didn't like it, she didn't taste as good as she used to, or smell quite as good as he remembered- the only one he wanted was Hermione-

Suddenly he felt his mentality snap with desperation. He didn't want Pansy, he wanted to run away and not talk to her for a very, very long time. He didn't want Pansy! He loved Hermione! How the hell was he still stuck to her mouth? Draco's effort to push her off of him was unsuccessful, considering his body would not follow what his mind was telling it to do. His resistance was not working, and he was panicking.

This moment was bursting- swelling- couldn't stop- frantic efforts to stop her- trying to get her to stop before his life and all his happiness was completely ruined- before someone saw- before she saw-

Fuck! Draco realized with a horrible start where they were, which was, of course, directly the way Hermione Granger was going to be walking in a very short amount of time.

Draco struggled against the invisible bonds that were holding Pansy to him, but it was in vain. She wouldn't get off. She wouldn't stop kissing him.

She had wanted this too long, this plan was too perfect—get Draco to ruin Hermione's life, a bit of sweet, sweet irony, perfect plan of revenge, kill two birds with one stone (maybe literally, if all went well!)—to stop for something as trivial as Draco's resistance.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Draco was desperate. How were his arms still wrapped around her like he liked this? He knew Hermione would see the two of them, locked in a devastatingly hopeless embrace, lips joined like they wanted it due to a horrendous spell—this was hell. He was counting down the seconds until he was in hell.

As the footsteps got even closer, about to turn the corner, he knew it was her. It was. Those footsteps were most definitely Hermione's, no doubt about it, confident and precise, not too heavy but not too delicate. The most perfect footsteps he'd ever heard, and now they were coming, and it was going to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck, was all he could think, because he sure as hell couldn't do anything else.

The footsteps slowed to turn the corner, and then stopped abruptly. He heard a loud gasp coming from where the footsteps had been, then a beat passed, and shock waves emanated off Hermione and slammed him like a hurricane, and he still couldn't get away from her—fucking spell – and then suddenly, finally, the spell—and the kiss— ended. He yanked his head away as hard as possibly, wiping his mouth with his hands, feeling so so so so so dirty and betrayed, his look of disgust hardly sending Pansy reeling. He pushed himself as far away from her and her horrible satisfied smirk as he could; frantically hoping this was all a horrible, horrible dream.

FUCK. Turning toward the corner of the corridor, where someone stood, looking absolutely horrified. Draco prayed uselessly, futilely, that it wouldn't be her, anyone but her, fucking McGonagall for all he cared, anyone but her-

But of course it was her, and it was worse than he'd imagined. Her gorgeous brown eyes, usually filled with sparkle and life, were dead beyond the tears of shock. Her lips, her perfect, perfect, perfect lips, opened and then closed, then opened again. She took a tiny step backwards, her hand rising to her mouth.

Draco had to do something. Something- anything- frantically he tried to think up an excuse. She'd hardly believe, let alone forgive, that he innocently trotted off with the infamously bitter and conniving Pansy Parkinson, who completely and utterly hated her with a burning passion unlike any other, and that he was completely unaware that she, one of his closest friends, would betray him like that. Please, this was Hermione Granger we're talking about, she's bloody brilliant, and she definitely wasn't as naïve as people though she was. Hell, he'd made sure that she wouldn't have much of that annoyingly lingering moral mishmash chattering in his ear when he first showed interest in her. Even though, you know, he loved her just the way she was.

But he was still screwed, mostly because she had kept up with her moronically moral statements that had eventually, subtly, fused into his personality. And he loved her so much that it almost became a fault. Draco couldn't even imagine what he would feel if he came across Hermione in such a compromising situation. He felt horrorstruck and brokenhearted and furious and had a pure emotional breakdown just thinking about it. So he could come up with no excuse whatsoever, because nothing he could ever say would make that horrible concoction of emotions reeling throughout her dissipate. Draco did the best he could in that situation, making a couple desperate pleading noises that escaped from his throat without his full knowledge or consent, but it was hardly satisfactory to either of them.

And that's when she snapped.

First it was pure, unadulterated hurt. Mouth gaping open, mind and heart not believing, eyes blinking back tears in astonishment. Then it changed suddenly, so quickly and obviously that Draco took an unconscious step back, because she turned furious.

And honestly, a furious Hermione was absolutely terrifying. Although Pansy seemed completely unconcerned (she was probably used to this sort of thing, Draco thought bitterly), Draco was devastated and ashamed and completely and absolutely terrified out of his mind. She was going to leave him, why wouldn't she, fuck, how the fuck was he supposed to live without her, he couldn't now, not after having such blissful happiness-

Hermione's first step was to dismiss Pansy. Dismiss was probably too light of a word, Draco thought, as he watched Hermione scream in her face. Pansy was hardly intimidated, considering she was the instigator and therefore had the upper hand, but sauntered away with a smug look anyhow.

That left just the two of them, and Draco did not know what to do. He was still terrified out of his mind.

Pansy was about to turn the corner when Hermione turned on him. Her brown eyes were blazing with fury and betrayal. He was scared, scared, scared, scared.

"And you!" she shouted hoarsely. "Why the- why the bloody, bleeding, sodding… FUCKING hell would you do this to me?" Um, shit. She was swearing. Hermione Granger had not sworn at him for a very, very long time.

She stopped abruptly. "Dra- no. Malfoy… why."

Draco felt his breath stop short in his lung, his heart stop beating. It was not a question, it… it felt very final. It felt like she wasn't going to discuss this with him, help work it out between the two of them. And… she had called him Malfoy. No, no, no… she only called him Malfoy when they were bickering and they both knew it was a joke. This was not a joke. Her saying that made it clear that she was pushing their relationship back four months, back when they weren't in love… not even close.

"Hermione, I really didn't do it, honestly, it wasn't on purpose, really, I didn't want it—it was some spell thing, I promise, something that she came up with to trick you—I love you, I'd never do that to you, please—" Draco'd never thought he'd see the day when a Malfoy begged, but here it was.

"Draco, please. You couldn't even come up with something better than that? Clearly you didn't care too much about our relationship if you didn't mind sucking face with Pansy fucking Parkinson." Her voice was brittle, cracking with bitterness, and his heart plummeting down to his feet and flew back to his throat in short succession. "You know how I feel about her! Out of everyone in this entire school, you pick her?!"

He knew what she was about to say, and he couldn't stop it, no matter how much he wanted to, not matter how much he wanted those words to stop falling out of her mouth and into his stupid mind-

"Hermione- wait –"

"Draco, we're done here. All you've done is lie your entire life, I don't know why I thought you'd change for me. I'm tired of you doing this to me. There, now you're not the biggest bloody idiot in the world, I am. It's over. I've always hated liars, and I've always hated cheaters, wow, I've always hated you. So here's to fourth year, eh? I hate you, Malfoy, even more than I did then, because this time… this time, you've broken my sodding heart."

She started to walk away, and he felt himself falling, falling, falling, faster and faster, until he was terrified he was going to hit rock bottom. It was one of those moments when the bitter realization of true life hits you – the moment you realize that all those times you thought you were in control were just a lie. Draco suddenly realized, with a terrifying clarity, that his life was never in his hands—he just always thought it was. It was walking with confidence across a party, only to have the rug yanked out from underneath you. It was driving down a deserted highway, feeling free and glorious, only to hit a patch of black ice and slide your way into no control. It was walking into the bathroom, hearing your best friend talk about how much you annoy her all the time. It was that terrifying moment of free-fall, when you know that one tiny decision could change your entire life.

She had left him.

The worse part is that he deserved it. Not because of this stupid moment with this one stupid spell, but because this wasn't the first time she had walked in on him and another girl.

Fuck. He deserved everything he got.