Disclaimer: I disclaim!

Author's note: Set in seventh year. Both HG and DM are head boy and girl, sharing those infamous quarters...

Consider the first chapter as a teaser. All the pieces of the jigsaw will come together in my second chapter. Enjoy...

"GRANGER! What the hell are you doing?" Draco Malfoy's voice echoed off the walls of their Head's shared common room.

She must have heard him too. The creamy shoulders visible through that sleeveless floaty translucent wrap she called a night dress, tensed. He even heard her sudden sharp intake of breath which was followed by a sound that had been louder than his own shout. CRASH! She toppled to floor, with the biscuit tin, cookie jar, stool she had been standing on five minutes ago and the night dress. Shame - she could have left the night dress.

Look away Malfoy! For God's sake it's Granger. He growled internally, and boy, did Granger look mad too. She rose, with as much poise and dignity as she could muster, from a crumpled heap on the floor. It was no wonder she was sorted into Gryffindor. If lionesses had manes, they would have looked similar to Granger's bushy tangle. Yes, he reminded himself 'a bushy tangle'. He glanced away briefly to regain his composure and clear his throat.

"Yes, Malfoy, What do you want?"

Despite their unspoken mutual understanding that they had reached, they had never progressed to being on a first name basis. She stooped to analyse shattered glass cookie jar, pulling out a wand from her night dress. "Reparo!"

"I thought you were on a diet." He assessed her form through the gown. "Or at least I thought that you should be on a diet." What a lie. He hated girls who would snap like twigs. But her reaction was worth it.

She stared at him in speechless fury. For once, Granger looked stumped for words. She blinked at him slowly, in disbelief and then quickly as if to dispel any emotion it caused. Her creamy small hands dropped from her hips and onto the side of her thighs. The pretence of vulnerability and fragility ended there. The expression in her eyes was one of rage. Weight was clearly a touchy subject. He could almost see steam coming out of her ears.

He gloated, but knew that she would not remain mute for long. The Brains of the Golden Trio never stopped ticking. He braced himself for the insult she would serve him. Surely the time for childish behaviour between them was long over. (Malfoys as a rule were allowed to have double standards.) She clicked her tongue and tapped her foot. Draco knew the signs were spelling trouble. His breath hitched. His smirk vanished.

"So you caught me. The amazing Draco Malfoy, the Sherlock Holmes of his generation has caught me. Red handed in the act...like a criminal!"

He pinched himself. Was his hearing impaired?

"And you know what Malfoy – I don't care about the diet! I frankly don't care anymore. I only live once, and I'm going to eat what I like and when I like! And I am going to be happy! "She glanced at the grandfather clock. "Even at 2 in the morning, I am going to be happy! Unlike Parkinson, I don't a pageant queen reputation to uphold, unlike Greengrass, I don't even have that kind of long and leggy body to maintain. I GIVE UP THE DIET! I GIVE UP!"

Malfoy was struggling to make sense of what exactly she was saying. He had heard of hemlock, in his herbology lessons, never a sherlock. "Relax Granger; I was only kidding about the diet." He judged from the way she reopened her mouth wide before churning out all her thoughts that Granger was not even close to finishing her tirade. SO he interrupted speedily. "So, you have a weakness for biscuits and cookies."

"Why don't you just say the word junk, Malfoy?"

She was not even arguing with him, just accepting it. Truly disturbing. Was she always like this at two in the morning?

"Always had a weakness for junk?" He asked, rolling the muggle sound around his mouth, deciding he liked it, whatever it meant.

"I have a sweet tooth that never agreed with vegetables." She added frantically, ringing her hands. "It drove my parents crazy. They simply refused to buy me anything! I come to Hogwarts every year with absolutely no food items in my trunk...well nothing edible anyway."

"So where did you get the biscuits from?"

She bit her lip, muttered and mumbled something into her hand. He was sure he caught the phrase,"doesn't matter."

"I know they are not from the train."

She avoided his gaze studiously.

"Tell me Granger, or I'll confiscate them!"

She rose to her full height, fully riled now. "You can't confiscate biscuits Malfoy! And if you managed to." She shuddered at the thought, " I...I will ...that is an abuse of power."

He applied the trademark smirk that wreaked daily devastation on the Hogwarts' females, "You going to share them then?" He raised an eyebrow.

Her own eyebrows knotted into a frown. Granger clearly had serious issues with her sugar intake. "Share?" She almost choked on the word.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. This was unbelievable. He was also a single child, but he knew when to share his biscuits. At least feed the mouldy ones to Crabbe and Goyle – but Granger was ridiculous. "I think you have an addiction, Granger. Hand me the containers. Both of them."

She snarled, actually snarled. "Go to Hell Malfoy."

Perhaps it was because two in the morning, he had a headache, a quidditch practice that had left him bone-weary, he was standing here in the common room arguing something trivial with Granger, he came up with the most ridiculous notion on the spot. So ridiculous, it left Hermione Granger in a stunned silence for the second time. "You know what Granger; I bet ten galleons this has something to do with Weasley."

She jumped.

"Weasley is one giving you your daily fix of sugar. You know why? Sugar is seemingly harmless but it acts long term...like mercury poisoning. He wants you put on weight, get black holes in your teeth..."

"Dental caries." She corrected spontaneously.

He continued, ignoring her, "Weasley wants you to be sick, to destroy your self esteem, he wants you to feel ugly and worthless, and at the end of all that - marry you, and land you with seven weasel babies. His plan will take about fifty years to implement but trust me; it's the only way he can get a girl."

The look on Granger's face was priceless.

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