A/N: This is my first fanfiction (yay)! Please feel free to read and review, as I greatly appreciate criticism. Rated T for language in later chapters. If you have any questions, PM me! Updates should be about once a week, and the chapters will generally be around 1000 words.

Summary: When Draco defended Hermione, she didn't expect it. Neither did she expect the hand that was offered to her, or the crooked smile that followed. "I know I've been a right git, but maybe we could start over?" Fluff. Pure fluff. No Voldemort, (let's assume that he/his movement never survived the First Wizarding War) just teenagers navigating the halls of Hogwarts and adolescent drama.

Hermione fought back the tears in her eyes, wiping furiously at her face. Her beautifully painted face, which had taken hours to do, not to mention her hair, which was ruined. Stupid Ron with his stupid comments and his stupid hair… and why couldn't she just have a nice night with someone who noticed that she was a girl?! Couldn't Ron have left her in peace with Victor Krum for a few hours? She trembled with rage, and had half a mind to go back and slap the boy.

Much like she had done in third year. However, that would reflect poorly on her behavior. She had better self-control now. "I am a Gryffindor. I won't slap Ron. I am a Gryffindor. I won't slap Ron." Hermione repeated this to herself under her breath as she stomped towards the washrooms, desperate for some peace and quiet. She knew she needed some time to fix herself up before rejoining her date. It was unfair to leave him there alone, famous Seeker or not.

Alas, the world did not seem to be on her side. Just as she turned the corner, she saw who she considered to be her worst enemies marching in her direction.

Draco Malfoy. Greg Goyle. Vincent Crabbe. Just the thought of their names made her shudder.

Oh no. She had mascara running down her face. Her hair was out of the elaborate hairstyle she had worked so hard on, falling down her back in rioting curls and back into its bushy state. She was mincemeat.

"Look, it's the Mudblood," guffawed Goyle, pointing a meaty finger. Crabbe sniggered beside him, but Malfoy almost frowned at them, before turning back to look at her. Unlike his minions, he stayed silent.

"Has someone hurt the wittle Mudbwood's feewings?" Crabbe cooed, before bursting into more laughter. Hermione felt trapped to the floor. One side was telling her to just run away as fast as possible, perhaps seek refuge in the washroom. Another side was telling her to hold her ground. After all, she was a Gryffindor. A smaller side, barely a whisper, was muttering that these buffoons weren't worth it. Who cared about their comments when she could annihilate them in the classroom?

So, Hermione slowly walked away, hobbling in her dressy shoes, clutching her periwinkle dress in her fists. Looking down at the floor, she started to make her way back to the Great Hall, where she would apologize to Victor and leave the Yule Ball.

"Hey! Mudblood! I asked you a question!" Obviously angered that the witch had not responded in the correct manner, Crabbe and Goyle ran after her. She was beneath them, and would act as such, even if they had to teach her.

"Leave her alone," announced a new voice. Malfoy. Hermione spun around, slightly surprised that the King of Gits had decided to defend her, even if he was not putting in that much effort. "No one likes hearing that word, and honestly, I'm disgusted by your behavior. What if one of the teachers heard you? Can you imagine what McGargoyle would have done? Or Dumbledore?"

His companions shrugged, and Hermione did not dare to breathe. She couldn't believe it. Oh, if only she had a camera! Draco Malfoy shoved his hands in his robes, his hair glinting in the torchlight. It took on a lighter sheen, if that were even possible.

"Just… leave her alone and go back to the ball. Your dates are probably missing you. Go on. I'll catch up in a bit. Don't knock anything over. Snape is already annoyed with you and the Herbology dung bomb fiasco."

The boys grunted in disapproval, but a hard glare and violent snarl from their pale leader and they took off.

Hermione leaned into the wall as the hulking boys passed her, and one gave her a hard shove for good measure. Malfoy was instantly there, steadying her as he glared daggers at their receding backs.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His eyes searched hers, and almost unconsciously, placed a hand on her shoulder for just a second too long.

"Why do you care?" she replied, wringing her hands together. His eyes instantly hardened, and his mouth opened, most likely with a flippant retort. Then, he pursed his lips and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't. Not really. But those two crossed a line and they know it. 'Mudblood' is no longer a polite term, and even my parents are accustomed to having Muggleborns around Malfoy Manor."

"Then why did you call me that in Second Year?"

Again, Malfoy's mouth opened, then closed. He looked rather like a fish. The thought amused Hermione, who fought a smile off her face. A few seconds passed before he squared his shoulders, and offered his hand. Something flashed across his face before he fixed a smile on his features. The frightening part was that Hermione could not discern whether the expression was a truth or a lie. There was no smirk, no sneer. Just a smile, a little more than polite, a little less than something else. She could not put a finger on it.

"Look, I know I've been a right git since we've met each other, but maybe we could start over?"

Hermione looked at him. He looked at her, with her smudged makeup and messy hair and slightly rumpled dress. He would have to see about getting it cleaned. He looked and he saw a girl who might be willing to accept his offer, as out-of-the-blue it had been.

If only she knew he'd been planning this encounter for the better part of a month.

With a tentative smile of her own, Hermione gripped his hand with her fingers, slowly shaking it up a down. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hermione Granger."

"I'm Draco Malfoy." For a split second, the Slytherin's heart sped up at the twinkle in her eye, before he stepped aside to let her step into the washroom.

As soon as she was out of his sight, and as soon as he was back alone in his dorm room, he let out the slightest of whoops.