Chapter 1-

It was hot. Too hot. Especially for one so blessed in the hair department, way too hot for Hermione. Summer had come late that year, and the sweltering temperatures were certainly making up for it. It would be logical to think that stone walls would equal cooler temperatures indoors, but this heatwave seemed to defy any reason. It soaked into every fibre of Hermione's being, causing her clothes to stick to her skin and her hair to grow to astronomical sizes.

It was only September- the second week to be exact- and Hermione was right where she was happiest. Buried in schoolwork already, pressure mounting, everyone depending on her to get the right grades. She was even Head Girl, at the peak of her academic career at Hogwarts. The coveted position at every school. However, the head boy had not been present. He was taking an extended holiday, which Hermione thought was awfully telling of his attitudes toward schoolwork. But she couldn't help thinking about him a little more than usual- which wasn't much to begin with taking into regard his eternal hate for her. She'd been having rather odd dreams, dreams that included a certain silver-eyed boy, known to her as Draco Malfoy.

Hermione was in the library with Harry and Ron, working on her first paper. Her foot was tapping steadily against the floor, her quill moving quickly across the parchment, her forehead beaded with sweat. She was happy. Working, on another planet. A planet where Malfoy didn't plague her dreams and make her lose concentration every time she thought about him. Nope, back to work. Back to Potions, Transfiguration, Charms...

"Hermione?" She ignored the voice, her mind in work-mode.

"Hermione!" She looked up at Harry staring irritably at her.

"Hmm?"

"It's lunch. I'm hungry." Ron grumbled in agreement. Hermione scowled, her pretty features twisting. "I'm not finished."

Ron groaned. "Well, it's due next lesson!"

Hermione was about to make a scathing remark about not being anyone's personal slave when another voice cut through the low hum of the library.

"Ah, the golden trio." She would've known Draco's bitter tones anywhere, could've recognised his harsh insults from a mile away... but his smooth, low voice was new to her. And it made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Sod off Malfoy," Harry started. clearly ready for an argument. Hermione didn't react. She kept writing, ignoring the Slytherin behind her.

"We're busy," Ron added.

"Granger is busy," Malfoy corrected. There was a pause as the two boys thought of something to say.

"You enjoyed your holiday I presume? While the rest of us worked?" Harry managed. "It was..." Malfoy paused and Hermione held her breath, "enjoyable."

There was another pause. "Come on. I'm going for lunch," Harry said finally, clearly confused by Malfoy's lack of desire for an argument. "Yeah I'll join you mate," Ron stood up too.

"You coming 'Mione?" She shook her head.

"No, I-" she stopped to swallow, her throat dry. "I'll finish this."

That left Hermione alone with Malfoy. She could feel his presence behind her, the small hairs on the back of her neck prickling uncomfortably. Or maybe that was just the heat. It was hard to tell.

"Are you going to look at me at all or am I going to have to talk to the back of your head?" There was it again. That voice. She could just imagine the smirk playing around his mouth. His mouth. His mouth... She stood up abruptly, steadying herself on the desk. "No, I'll happily look at you," she said, turning around, and immediately needed to sit down again.

Malfoy has always been too skinny, too tall. His hair slicked was always slicked back, his bones popping out of his face too much. He'd been too angular, too pointy. But that was a mere shadow of who Hermione was looking at now.

He had clearly put on weight, but in all the right places- his biceps were clearly defined, even visible through his shirt as he leaned against the shelves with his arms crossed. He was lean; still slim and not burly. He was still pale, but Hermione could see how he was slightly sweaty as well, which seemed ten times more attractive than it should be. His jaw and cheekbones were still prominent, but he wasn't gaunt, he was healthy, glowing eyes and cheeks that seemed to see right through Hermione in a way that made her cheeks burn. His hair looked like it had no gel in; it looked soft and hung down like a fringe. His tie was loose around his neck, revealing more skin, and Hermione resisted the urge to throw herself at him. And he'd certainly be able to catch her...

"Granger?" his husky voice brought her out of her trance and her head snapped up.

"Malfoy," she said automatically.

"You okay?" he said, stepping forward. She stepped back and collided with the table, and the clattering of the chair brought her back to reality.

"I'm fine," she said chirpily, spinning around and grabbing her books, nearly spilling her ink everywhere. Instead, she grabbed her quill without looking and the tip sliced into her hand.

"Shite," she muttered, hissing in pain. Suddenly, Malfoy was there, right behind her, his breath hot on her neck. Her stomach dipped so suddenly she forgot all about the pain in her palm and became painfully aware of how fast her heart was beating. They were both very still for a second, both of them looking down at her bleeding hand.

"Episkey," he murmured. The wound closed up with a sharp pinch, and Hermione let out the breath she was holding. "Thanks, I-" But before she could think to even form a sentence, Malfoy was gone without saying a word, disappearing behind the shelves. She heard the soft thud of the door closing and knew it was he had left the library. She collapsed back in her chair, breathing heavily. What was that?

Wow hope you enjoyed. trying to make my fanfictions good for once xxx