Chapter 1

"Guys, I've got something to tell you and you're not going to like it," said Hermione one morning, her expression shifty. "But it would be unfair for me not to tell you so…"

"So?" asked Ron chewing a mouthful of burnt toast; managing to look as uninterested as humanly possible.

"I have a boyfriend," she stated, her cheeks tinting slightly pink. Ron choked on his toast whilst I hid a smirk.

"You what?" grunted Ron, eyes opened wide.

"I'm sorry, is it really that hard to believe Ronald?" She snapped looking slowly more and more embarrassed.

"Um, so who's the lucky guy?" I asked awkwardly as Ron stared blatantly dumbstruck at her.

"Um, you're not going to like this Harry… You're not going to like this at all…"

My heart sank slightly as the realisation hit me like a brick in the face.

"It's Malfoy isn't it?" I moaned, "Why Hermione?"

"Look guys, please don't judge… He's genuinely a lovely guy really…"

"Malfoy? Lovely?" I snorted, "God Hermione, of all the guys you could have gone for, why on earth would you pick him? He's an obnoxious git, not to mention that his father is working for the guy who killed my parents. Yeah, really lovely," I yelled, my voice oozing sarcasm.

"Please Harry, just give him a chance. Look, I know you got off to a rocky start but I reckon you'd become really good friends if you just… Made an effort."

"Bullshit," I muttered and left the table feeling both Ron and Hermione's eyes on my back. Anger launched me down the corridor sending me slamming straight into an unexpecting figure. And of course to my greatest dismay it was Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going Potter," he scowled miserably in my direction. Fumbling I rose to my feet and brushed past him without uttering a single word. I wasn't in the mood.

During that week Hermione tried and failed to bring Malfoy into the group's conversations yet none of us co-operated. It was one of the few times when I saw him without his typical cocky stance, and instead with an almost embarrassed expression. Then at the end of every lunch with a shifty glance in our direction, he would take off without a word to let us know what he was up to. Hermione and Ron didn't seem to notice this, and if they did they didn't seem concerned. I however wanted to know what he was doing, and one afternoon my curiosity got the better of me.

He took me by surprise.

In a small abandoned classroom there he was hunched over a desk, his blond hair spilling over the paper on which he was scrawling. Satisfied now I knew what he had been up to all this time I turned to walk away but his voice forced me to a halt.

"Potter, came to join me?" He asked with an almost amused tone of voice. Without warning my stomach lurched and after pulling myself together I turned back round to meet his grey eyes.

"What are you doing Malfoy?"

"I'm writing a book Potter. A murder mystery if you must know. Rather riveting if I dare say so myself." He said with a grin. I stumbled on my words before replying.

"Not the book Malfoy, Hermione." The overconfident smile didn't leave his face yet there appeared to be a more sinister edge in his eyes.

"Care to explain, Potter?"

"I thought you hated…"

"Muggle borns?" he asked, "Why Potter it was an act. I thought you of all people would perhaps understand but obviously not." And with a swift movement he collected all his papers and swept out of the room. My heart sank slightly in my chest, and without hesitation I headed back to the Gryffindor form room where I reluctantly re-joined my friends.

Malfoy intrigued me. I figured that maybe, just maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Malfoy did have another side to him that he hid from everyone else. I began to question his motives, why was he with her? What was he writing? Why did he feel the need to be so… secretive? I was worried about Hermione even if Malfoy supposedly wasn't the guy I had thought him to be. He was so… Intense. I didn't want him to hurt her. I was worried, that was all.

A few weeks later at breakfast, I looked around and he was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Malfoy?" I asked, trying to make my voice sound neutral.

"Please stop calling him that, his name is Draco. Anyway I think he's busy writing I think."

"Writing what?" I asked. Hermione looked at me suspiciously,

"A story I think. Quite good actually..." I shrugged again trying to look and act natural, "Why were you asking?"

"Um… I'm just worried about you, that's all…" I mumbled and walked off stumbling over my own feet. Shaking my head I realised there was no point denying it any longer…