~*~One~*~

The last rays of autumn sunlight had long since disappeared from the library desk in front of her, but Hermione Granger hardly noticed. She stared down at her latest potions essay, boring holes into it. Usually writing such essays gave her great satisfaction, but since Harry had found his book of a thousand secrets, her success in potions had fallen to passable and her enthusiasm to nil. She wanted to think she wasn't motivated by petty things such as being the best, but this latest chapter in the potions experience seemed to indicate otherwise.

Hermione heaved a sigh, leaning back in her chair in exactly the same manner she often chided Ron and Harry against. What did it matter? Slughorn hardly noticed her in comparison to Harry's bizarre perfection. And did she really want a man whose sole ambition in life was to live vicariously through the success of others to view her as his star student? In any case, he was a welcome change from Snape, who'd spent the past five years turning every success of hers into a forgotten failure.

At least Slughorn didn't have her on edge every second of class. It was, however, a shame they still shared the lessons with Slytherin, but their numbers had greatly reduced with Snape no longer at the helm. She'd been surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle the first day, they'd definitely not made it to an Exceeds Expectations on their OWLs, but clearly Slughorn was much kinder of heart than his longtime predecessor. Blaise Zabini hadn't been a surprise at all. In fact, aside from Malfoy, he was Slytherin's top student in their year. He'd kept his head down for most of their classes and Hermione only knew of his success from stolen glimpses of his scores as Snape handed their parchments back. And then there was Pansy Parkinson, still hanging on Malfoy's every word, even if he didn't seem to say much at all these days.

Hermione almost felt sorry for the girl, she'd been pining after him for years now and it was abundantly clear to anyone with half a brain he wasn't the least bit interested. Of course, this year he didn't seem interested in anything at all. The biting comments had died with his father's public imprisonment. She'd only seen him look up once this year and that had been when Slughorn mentioned liquid luck. His steel eyes had danced with something immeasurate before shuttering again and losing focus.

Godric, was she really sitting here in the library thinking about Draco Malfoy? Didn't she have anything better to do with her life right now? Hermione cleared her throat and rolled her latest essay, tying the parchment closed with a bit of twine from her bag.

She could always go back to the Griffindor common room, but that meant facing Harry and Ron and since they were the whole reason she was sitting here, Hermione was absolutely not doing that. She shuffled through the contents of her bag. She'd already completed all of the essays and the Arithmancy assignment, which left her with no homework to drown in. Shame.

She glanced up at the shelves around her. They were filled with Wizarding history texts, most of which she'd already read. She tipped the chair further back to examine a title she didn't remember seeing before, Magic and Spellcasting in The Early Byzantium. Her chair wobbled precariously as her fingers extended outward, but held long enough for her to grab the book and slam gracelessly back into her seat. Strangled laughter escaped her throat. Wouldn't do for the brightest witch of her age to die in her chair in the library.

Not that Hermione believed any of the rubbish about her being the brightest witch of her age. Sure, she was cleverer than most of her classmates, but that didn't mean she believed she was the smartest. That would be daft. There were plenty of other Wizarding schools across the word and Hermione was sure she would meet her match at any of them. Hell, when Malfoy gave his A game, a sight not seen since they'd returned for 6th year, she was definitely on her toes. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. No, her appreciation for his intellect started and ended with that thought. He certainly hadn't been much of a challenge lately, not that she was complaining.

The floor creaked in the aisle beside her and Hermione ducked her head to peer between the stacks. Usually the place was deathly quiet at this hour, so naturally she was curious as to who shared the idea of a late Saturday night in the library. For a moment all she saw was a set of thick black robes. Then there was a flash of platinum blond that begged no question as to the identity of her companion.

Hermione jerked back, as if shocked, before she slowly leaned forward to peek around the edge of an oversized history tome. His back was still to her, his hands running frantically over the texts in front of him. He reached the end of the row and let out an exasperated sigh, his hand gripping his hair in a manner reminicent of Harry.

She squinted, attempting to determine which titles he was searching. She hadn't been down that aisle in a month or so and the section name eluded her.

"Bloody hell, you've got to be fucking kidding me."

Malfoy's voice hissed across the silent library. She leaned closer, too caught up in identifying his search to give heed to her own safety. After all, it was just Malfoy. She'd punched him the face before and there was no way she was going to be intimidated by him now, regardless of Harry's hair brained idea that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

He turned to search the row to his left, finally allowing Hermione a glance at the titles. All the texts appeared to be innocuous charmed objects books that she'd read through by the time she was in third year. Nothing nefarious to be found outside the restricted section anyway, she reasoned.

Malfoy continued his journey down the stacks, moving further away from her. She watched him closely for several more minutes, but despite some creative cursing and despondent hair pulling, nothing happened. At last she sighed and turned back to her bag.

It had been coming on nine when Malfoy entered her section and Harry and Ron would look for her if she wasn't back soon. She shook her head, causing her mass of curls to dance around her. That was the last thing she wanted. There was no way she wanted Harry anywhere near Malfoy these days. He was disturbingly obsessed with the Slytherin boy and Hermione was sure nothing but disaster would strike if he found Malfoy searching the library. Heaven forbid the blond wanted to find some charms text. Rolling her eyes, she made her way out of the stacks.

"Going somewhere, Mudblood?"

The snarled words stopped her in her tracks. She slowly turned her head, finding silver eyes flashing as he leaned against the stacks, clearly awaiting her departure.

"What's it to you?" She tried to keep her voice even. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't.

He slid closer, the edge of his school jumper sliding against her blouse. His eyes narrowed further, searching her features with an urgency that surprised her. "See anything interesting, Mudblood?"

The word almost sounded like an endearment on his tongue. She glanced up at him, resolutely holding his simmering gaze. He took a step closer, towering over her. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure. Maybe Harry was right, maybe Malfoy was in deeper than she'd imagined. Maybe she ought to be afraid.

"Sod off, Malfoy." She forced the words out, praying he wouldn't notice the sweat gathering on her brow or the trembling of her wand in her hand. She moved into him, intending to brush past and end whatever strange impasse they'd reached, but his hand latched on to her shoulder before she'd even shifted her weight. His palm seared through her blouse branding her with heat.

Hermione had always imagined he'd be cold, but he burned instead. Her mouth dropped open in a small gasp and he smirked at her, his full lips twisting. "I ask again, going somewhere, Mudblood?"

She wanted to spit in his face, to stomp on his toe, to hex him to oblivion, but instead she was petrified. Her eyes danced in circles across his face, trying to find the key to her freedom, but aside from the hideous smirk, his visage betrayed nothing.

Malfoy dipped his face closer to hers. Now she could feel the hot torrent of his breath across her cheek as his lips dropped to her ear. "Not so brave now, are you, Mudblood?"

Once again the word sounded wrong, more endearing than derisive. Her stomach turned and Hermione ground her teeth, refusing to him the pleasure of a reaction. She felt him smile against her ear. "It's okay, Mudblood. I'm not going to do anything." He paused, moving fully into her space. Her breath caught despite her best efforts. She could feel him pressed against her from hip to shoulder, his head now resting against her own.

"Yet."

The word reverberated through her as he drew away, silver eyes slashing through her defenses one last time before he spun away and stalked out the of the library, taking every bit of her self-respect with him.

Hermione fell back against the bookcase, sinking down until she was sprawled on the ground. Her skin was suddenly cold in the absence of his catastrophic heat. Shivers ran up and down her spine as her hands shook uncontrollably where they lay on her lap.

What had happened? Why had he touched her like that, whispered in her ear? Harry was right. He was different now, more dangerous than before. A frown drew her lips down as she realized neither of them had thought to use their wands. She'd completely forgotten she was a witch, let alone that he was a wizard.

She glanced to the side, her wand lay discard on the floor. She couldn't even remember when she'd dropped it. Hermione took a gulping breath. He'd had her defenseless, entirely at his mercy and yet all he'd done was talk to her. He could have done anything. But he hadn't.

When her hands were finally stable enough to clutch her wand securely, she rose carefully to her feet. She slung her bag over her shoulder as she faced the library doors. She was sure Malfoy was already long gone, but her sense of security was shattered and she no longer trusted her instincts. She strode silently toward the door, keeping her wand poised for attack as she crossed the silent room.

Madam Pince was quietly reading in her study, door cracked. Hermione wondered if she'd heard anything. It was doubtful. Draco hadn't been loud during his search of the charms section, despite the cursing, and he'd been downright silent before accosting her. She shook her head and raised a hand in greeting as Madam Pince glanced her way. The librarian pursed her lips, but returned the gesture.

The trip back up to the Griffindor Tower was eventless and Hermione thanked whatever stars had allowed her to make it back to her bunk in safety. She went through her bedtime routine on autopilot, silver eyes chasing her every move. Even as she began to drift away, safely ensconced beneath her covers, Mudblood caressed her ear, his breath still searing through her.