Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, which belongs to JK Rowling. I don't own any of her characters, including Draco (unfortunately.)

A/N: Um, this won't be a romance between Draco and Hermione… hopefully. In fact, if it will go the way as planned, it will hardly be a romance. Though… I can't help adding SOME sexual tension between them. I mean really, who CAN'T!

He walked into the room, scowling at the red and gold décor. Gryffindors and their damned pride. He took a seat on the chair behind the desk. Surely, he could not sit on the small one.

She walked in. He had to admit, she had grown. Her body had curves, her eyes were now framed with beautiful lashes, and her hair, though still slightly frizzy, was just yelling for him to put his hands through. He wondered why he hadn't done the love 'em and love 'em trick on her yet.

"This is crap, ferret," she said. "I can't believe this load of sh… I mean, crap that you gave me."

Oh, right. She was still the know-it-all, goody-goody, Gryffindor, Potty/Weasel-lover she was before.

"Crap?!" he said, angrily. "That paper was written beau—"

"Oh, no, Malfoy. It was written well, I have to admit to that. But no one will want to read this!"

"Oh, yeah? And why is that, mudblood?"

She glared at him. "Simple. The title, look at it. Do you really think that people would really like reading about how Slytherins are the best all the time?"

Draco scoffed. "Well, it's true."

She glared at him. "Malfoy, this is it. Your last chance. I've been getting too many bad articles from you. If you don't give me something good next time, I'll—"

"You'll what? Tell Dumbledore to kick me off? You know you can't do that."

"Your right. I can't kick you off. But I can demote you."

Draco laughed. "No you can't. The only position open is sports, and I'm on the quidditch team, mudblood."

"That's where you're wrong, Ferret Boy. Lavender and Patil want a boy's point of view on the gossip column. I think they'll love the idea of working with you."

Draco, if possible, paled.

"Good," Hermione said. "You understand me now." And with that, she left. Leaving Draco to think to himself.

Truth be told, he actually liked writing. He had denied to all his friends, saying that these new wizard-colleges (an idiot's idea based on muggle schools) like these type of groups. But, Merlin, what was he going to write about?