Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters...Good ol' JK Rowling does.
A/N: This is my first real fanfic (I started one but I never got around to finishing it. Who knows, if this goes well, maybe I will finish it.) I do intend on finishing this one, so reviews are more than welcome. I hope you enjoy my first chapter. It's shorter than I had hoped, but it's more of an introduction to the plot of the story, I guess. Or maybe I'm making up excuses for it's shortness. Who knows? Anyway, stop reading my rambling about the shortness of this chapter and READ IT! )

A cascade of brown curls had fallen upon the table as the most studious girl in her year, Hermione Granger, was doing just that- studying. Her head was resting on her left hand; her right hand was holding the page of the rather large potions book in place. And yet, despite this ominous task of writing a three foot paper on a potion of choice, she wasn't miserable. She was far from that. Rather, this lovely young lady was actually having a great time writing this composition. Of course, nobody else in their right mind would be having fun doing it, let alone be caught doing it at all; yes, this paper was due in two weeks. They had just gotten the assignment that day. So what? Doing her work when it was actually assigned was not only a form of fun for this rather odd teenager, but it left her with free time to study what she pleased instead of studying what she was forced to; or it gave her time to get in trouble with Harry and Ron if she was forced into it, per usual. But for now, she was happily enveloped in the peace and quiet of the library, her hand moving furiously as she created beautiful words on her parchment. And she sighed, a sigh of contentment.

Of course, how could a sigh like that go unnoticed? It couldn't; especially not when Draco Malfoy was lurking behind the book cases, staring at this not-so-bushy haired teenager actually enjoying her work. Hatred was seeping out of his every pore. His brilliant grey eyes were hazed over; he was seeing red. He hated her, despised her, never wanted to see her again. Yet, he would find himself staring at her, despite the fact that he felt like ringing her neck at every moment of every day. It still wouldn't stop him from approaching her and talking to her, even if he was just belittling her and everything she actually had going for her. Who cares? The point was, that despite his obvious hatred, he continued to approach her and engage in a conversation, a battle of the wits. A form of masochism? Maybe. Or maybe not…

"Granger," he spat, meandering lazily over to where she was sitting. "Where'd the Weasel and Potter go? Not here to protect you anymore?"

Her eyes shot up at the sound of the ever-familiar slur belonging to Draco Malfoy. At once, the brilliant honey eyes which were previously shining in contentment clouded with the same hatred he was showing for her. Her eyes narrowed as he attempted to insult her, and failed miserably, at least in her opinion. She nearly laughed at how pathetic his metaphorical jab at her sounded, yet she kept her cool, only to let a self satisfied smirk cross her lips before she spoke.

"Malfoy," she answered, her voice smooth and quiet, brimming with hatred for this boy. "It doesn't matter where Harry and Ron are. Mind you, I'm surprised you don't have your body guards Crabbe and Goyle sandwiching you in between their rolls of fat. Unlike you, I don't need body guards to protect me, seeing as I have skills superior to the likes of you. And even if I did need body guards, I'd much rather have Harry and Ron than the morons you call friends."

Malfoy sneered at her, unwilling to admit that she had thrown his insult right back at him, making him seem like the complete idiot that he is. "At least my- oh, how did you put it? Body guards? –respect me enough as not to turn on me when I anger them with insults and orders. I mean really? How reliable is the weasel anyway?" His sneer never left his lips as his cold grey eyes narrowed, bearing into Hermione's like daggers. And then Malfoy moved closer to her, leaning against the table which her books were on. His hands rested against the edge of the table, his head turned towards her, looking down upon her as he was taught to- both literally and figuratively. His platinum blonde hair, which he once slicked back in a greasy mess, was hanging loosely by his eyes, framing his face in a way that only Malfoy could pull off. Hermione felt her breath catch, yet it was so subtle, she knew he hadn't noticed. She was momentarily taken aback by how downright sexy he looked.

Malfoy can't look sexy. Her thoughts were jumbled, floating around her head as if they were in a whirlpool. Shaking her head slightly, she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind, an uncharacteristic scowl being precisely painted on her once beautiful features. Her thoughts only had made her hate him even more. "And at least my friends won't ditch me because they can smell bacon brewing in the air- or rather any food, or what can be even considered food. Oh wait- at least I have friends that are my friends because- oh yes –they actually like me as a person. Unlike you; your friends only pretend to like you because they fear your wrath, which, to put it bluntly, really isn't all that frightening."

The scowl on Hermione's face caused the smirk on Draco's to grow. He had completely ignored her last words in favor of his own. "Hey Mudblood," he said, his voice light, in an almost friendly manner. "Nice scowl; fit for a Slytherin. Too bad Slytherin would never have you- your blood is too tainted for a house of the highest prestige." With those words, Draco winked at her, knowing it would cause her blood to boil, and he sauntered out of the library, feeling completely satisfied with himself.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still sitting in the library, and indeed her blood was boiling. She could think of nothing that would give her more satisfaction than seeing him dead. Okay, maybe not dead; rather, with his vocal chords cut out. That would make life infinitely more enjoyable. Her breath was ragged, short, temperamental. Her eyes continued to burn with hatred for that slimy git. Her face was flushed a brilliant red. Her vision was blurry, her concentration lost. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She didn't want to let Malfoy's words get to her, yet she felt the urge to break down and cry. Before she knew it, a solitary tear dripped down her flushed cheeks, falling onto her black robes, becoming immediately lost, immediately forgotten, as did her degree of anger as her thoughts from before clouded her mind once again.

Could she really have thought such repulsive things? He's…He's Malfoy for Merlin's sake. Yet, she couldn't seem to get that picture of him scowling at her out of her mind. Then again, she can always think someone is good looking. It doesn't mean she has feelings for them. For heaven's sake, she had the biggest crush on Ron for the longest time, even before he turned remotely good looking. She would prefer personality and sincerity over looks any day. Yet, the thought of Malfoy being good looking sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. Despite her reasoning, she could not come to accept the ominous fact that she did indeed find Malfoy good looking. And yes, despite his newly acquired physique, he is still the same slimy git he had always been. Scratch that. He is ten times worse than he has ever been.

With that thought firmly implanted in her mind, Hermione went back to working on her essay, which was nearly done. But soon after she started her concluding paragraph, Harry and Ron rushed into the library, flushed from excitement and adrenaline. Hermione still had the remnants of the feud on her features- the redness from her nearly unshed tears, the blush of her cheeks, the slight cloudiness of her eyes –yet she was sure the boys wouldn't notice. They are boys after all, and quite oblivious ones at that. She knew she couldn't ignore them; they would never let her finish this paper. Instead, she finished her last sentence, turning to smile at her two best friends. Her gaze lingered on Ron, her past crush, her once-upon-a-time fairy tale, and realized that he was none of that, not anymore. When this thought crossed her mind, instead of picturing Ron as this person, the face of her worst nightmare flashed across her conscious mind. Draco Malfoy. And to think, she had to spend ever night with him in the confinements of the Head Students' common room. Even without knowing it, Malfoy had already begun to make her life a living nightmare. Or rather, even more of a nightmare than it already was.