He was doing it again.

Hermione didn't even have to look up to his his ice blue eyes were staring at her from across the Great Hall.

Ever since Voldemort's death, she had noticed his never-ending gaze accompanied every meal, piercing through the students at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table, always ending up on her.

She ventured a peak. Looking in-between Harry and Ron, who were currently involved in a Quidditch centered conversation, she met his gaze. He smirked at her when she returned his stare, and after a few seconds of holding it, she looked down again. Damn, she thought, she had let him win again.

Since Voldemort was defeated the past summer, the Sytherins were allowed to return to school, regardless of their known association. Most of them, from what Hermione had gathered, were really not that all upset with the outcome. Near the end, Voldemort had turned on his own, frustrated that they couldn't accomplish the simplest tasks, knowing the end for him was near. Hermione knew Malfoy had lost his father, Crabbe and Goyle mother's were tortured, Parkinson's brother was killed, and Zabini was left orphaned.

That didn't mean they had all of a sudden turned into best friends with the other houses, of course. They still were arrogant and cruel, stealing from first years, pushing students around, and most importantly…

"Pothead, Weasel, excited for your date later?" Hermione hadn't noticed he had gotten up and was walking past their table, flanked on either side by the huge forms that were Crabbe and Goyle. Zabini, with his black hair styled into spikes, and Parkinson, her chin length blonde hair pin straight, arms wrapped around each other, were snogging in the background behind them. His eyes bore into hers, his infamous smirk still plastered to his face, as Harry and Ron retorted back, whatever they said being ignored by him, his beautiful blonde hair falling seductively in front of his eyes…

Wait. What? Since when has Malfoy had beautiful hair falling seductively in front of his eyes?

Hermione looked away and could already feel her face blushing.

"Don't forget we have a meeting with Dumbledore at 7." He directed at her. She could hear the curiosity in his voice as he said it. Blushing even harder, she just nodded her head, and heard them walk away.

"Stupid ferret…" Ron was still grumbling, but wasn't upset enough to stop eating.

"Sucks that he was picked Headboy, Mione." Harry said from across the table. "Some plan no doubt put in by Dumbledore trying to prove house unity or some shit."

"Actually, I heard that he is actually second in your guys class." Ginny responded from across the way, pushing a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. She was probably not only listening in on their conversation. They didn't call her the gossip queen for nothing.

"That's probably why they picked him." And her trusty companion, Collin, was always right there with her. The two focused their attention on another group without waiting for a response.

"It's not that bad. I hardly ever see him in the Common Room." Which wasn't exactly true. It would have been more correct to say she never spoke to him in the Common Room. But in the Head's dormitory, his staring only increased, making it a silent battle between them to see who could stare longest. He always won.

"Regradless, I can't even begin to imagine having to share anything with him."

Hermione sighed. Eventually the conversation went back to Quidditch, and Hermione was once again left alone with her thoughts.

XXX

"Blaise, up for a hit?" Draco and his crew had gone to the Slytherin Common Room after dinner, and Draco had immediately packed a bowl for himself. He inhaled once again after his question, holding the smoke in until it felt like he would explode, and then releasing it in a smooth stream between his lips. That was better.

"Pass it here." Blaise skillfully grabbed the black porcelain with his right-hand, his left still wrapped around Pansy, and placed it in his mouth. Pansy, always taking care of her man, already had her lighter out and held it over the hash while he inhaled. When he was finished, he passed it to Pansy. Pansy took in a lot, tossed the bowl back to Draco, leaned in, and started making out with Blaise. This was a sight Draco was used to, Blaise and Pansy being a 'couple' since last year. The only reason the two sluts had lasted this long was because neither really cared if the other went and fucked someone else. In fact, Pansy had come to visit him for a week this past summer at his father's mansion...well, it was his mother's now, and they had had a good time.

Draco took another hit and became lost in his thoughts. He thought about a lot of things, his mother, his potion's essay, NEWTS, Pansy's hand unzipping Blaise's pants, weed, and then, she popped up.

His father had always had a plan for him. A specific, if you follow the rules you will succeed plan.

The rules had always come easily for Draco. He was a pureblood, and purebloods always demanded the respect they deserved. They knew their place and expected others to know it also. They never fraternized with the house help, never disrespected their elders (as long as they were pureblood), and most importantly…

Never associated with any form of half-breeding or Mudbloods.

And that was really all she was. A filthy mudblood. And not just any filthy mudblood, but the same mudblood who had out ranked him in school his whole life at Hogwarts, a mudblood who dared to slap him, who, with her friends, frankly made his life a living hell.

Why do you keep looking at her then?

Her chocolate colored eyes, warm, inviting, defiant. Her caramel hair, dyed, he assumed, from her past dark brown hair, falling in loose curls around her just slightly rounded face. Her lips, slightly red after biting them. The crease that formed in-between her eyebrows when something confused her or interested her, like when she first caught him looking at her.

He tried to remember the first time he saw her in that new light. He would be lying to himself if he didn't say at the Yule Ball she had surprised him, but he buried that thought the moment it came to him. He would not admit that he had felt...jealous of the fool known as Victor Krum that night. When Pansy, who he was 'dating' at the time, had asked him later that night why he had been looking at the mudblood, he scowled at her before kissing her to shut her up, and proceeded to fuck her until him looking at Granger was far from her memory.

Then, he decided, it must have been 2 weeks ago when they had came to school as Headboy and Headgirl. Dumbledore had sent his letter mid-July, informing him that Granger had received Headgirl status, and the two would be required to come to Hogwarts 2 weeks before the rest of their classmates to help the teachers set up and prepare for the coming year. It was when Draco got to the school that Dumbledore informed him that he and Granger would be sharing a common room and bathroom, one of the 'perks' of becoming a Head. Arriving at the room with his luggage in tow, he had seen Granger already sitting at a desk, already working on an essay. She had been tanning, her freckles on her nose more prominant than they had been the last time he'd seen her, and she was wearing a tank top and denim shorts that showed off her brown skin nicely. She had opened the windows and a warm breeze wafted in, blowing her loose curls, the smell of her shampoo filling the air. The door had shut behind him, and she had looked up, smiling slightly, obviously wanting them to turn over a new leaf as Heads, before he had insulted her about her muggle shorts.

He tried to remember what had changed, besides the obvious that his father and Voldemort were dead. And he came up with nothing. Nothing to verify the fact that he now found Granger…beautiful.

Damnit.

Now this could prove to be problematic.

XXX

Hermione and Dumbledore were just finishing up when Malfoy decided to show.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" Dumbledore exclaimed as he casually opened the door. Hermione noticed his eyes were a bit red, and there was a bit of a dazed expression on his face.

"Sorry, Professor. Crabbe needed help on his history paper and we lost track of time." The apologetic, though Hermione knew it to be his fake, smile that sprang to his face seemed to amuse Dumbledore, the twinkle in his eye the only sign he knew that was not in fact the right story, but he let it pass.

"Of course. We wouldn't want Vincent's paper to be turned in less than perfect! I trust Ms. Granger here can fill you in on what we discussed. I expect you to be on time next week, Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione stood up, wished the Headmaster a goodnight, and left without a second glance. She was already on her way to the Head's room when someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

"And just what do you think you are doing?" She shouted, ignoring the tingles his touch sent through her.

He immediately released her, realizing a second too late his mistake.

"Where the hell were you? Never mind, let me guess. Getting high with your pathetic friends."

"If you say drug free is the way to be, Granger, I swear I'll…"

"You'll what?" Hermione glared at him. "You know what? I don't even care. You are your druggie friends can do whatever lame past time you want! I don't care." She wasn't sure if she said the last part for her benefit or his, but it didn't matter.

"At least my friends know how to have a good time. Unlike you and your two faggots you hang around with all day. I've seen the way the three of you hang out. At breakfast- them talking, you sitting quietly to the side. At lunch- you reading a book. At dinner- you being lucky if they decide to include you in their conversation- at-"

"Shut up!" Hermione was furious. "The only reason you think you notice all of that is because you never stop staring at me!" She wanted to add on he was a creep and it was disgusting how much he looked at her, but she couldn't. Because, in all reality, she was…happy about it.

"That's not my fault. You've, you've…" Something seemed to suddenly dawn on him. "You little bitch. You little fucking mudblood bitch. You've put a spell on me haven't you?" Even though his words were harsh, his tone was soft, almost comforted by this conclusion.

"You are high, Malfoy. And that is just absurd. Why would I put a spell on you? Why would I even want to?"

He began creeping forward, backing her into a wall. "I don't know how you mudbloods think. All I know is I can't keep my eyes off of you. Your hair, your eyes, your fucking smell. I am obsessed. And this would explain everything. I mean, it only makes sense. A pureblood like me. You are lucky to be this close to me. Well you know what, Granger?" Hermione was now pressed against the wall, his tall form mere inches from her. She could smell the smoke on his breath.

Oh my god. He is going to kiss me. And she wasn't as repulsed by that thought as she thought she would be.

"I am stronger than your stupid spell."

And with that, Malfoy floated down the hallway, leaving Hermione pressed against the wall, breathing harder than necessary.