A/N: Takes place during 6th Year. Of course, doesn't follow the book exactly, and has no relation to the final book.

It wasn't the first time Hermione had lost something. No matter how hard she tried, she could be best in classes. She could win contests. But no matter what she did, she could never beat out Lavender Brown outside the classroom. Eventually, she just started letting the blasted Harpy win. On one of these occasions, the group was eating lunch in the Great Hall.

"So, the Yule Ball is being held again, I hear?" Lavender turned to Hermione, who was in charge of the Ball as she was a prefect, and the only one ambitious enough to take on the task.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "In two weeks."

"Wonderful!" Lavender squealed, making Hermione and Ginny give each other strained looks. Then she turned to Ron and smiled at him with a too-big-grin. "Ron, are you planning on going to the ball?"

"Uh, I hadn't thought about it..?" Ron replied slowly, around bites. Odd how he could manage to not stuff his face while he talked to the banshee.

"Well you should." She winked, then turned back to the girl on the other side of her.

Hermione watched as Ron turned to Harry, who gave him a nod and an elbow nudge. Then Ron tapped Lavender on the shoulder, waited for her to turn around, and asked her to the dance. Right in front of everyone. Lavender's shouts of joy made everyone in the Great Hall turn and look, and some even rolled their eyes in annoyance. Hermione, however, felt like throwing up.

She knew instantly that her silly crush on the redhead was just that – silly. He never failed to disappoint her when it came to things like this. She honestly wasn't surprised anymore. Instead of feeling like her heart was breaking, she was disgusted. No wonder she wanted to throw up. Lavender was already practically sitting on Ronald, and it wasn't pleasant at all.

Deciding she didn't want to sit around the two anymore, Hermione got up and began making her way out of the Great Hall. Just as she was about to walk out the door, she noticed that someone had joined her. A certain blond-haired, Slytherin someone. Brilliant.

"Why do you let her do that?" He asked without looking at her. But instead of heading to the Dungeons or class, like he should have, he turned towards the Library when she did.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hermione replied stiffly.

He said nothing until they reached the doors of the library. He held them open for her, which made her stare at him for a moment in surprise, before walking over to the table she always studied at. He followed her and sat down, without her having accepted his joining her.

"Why do you let Lavender win?" He asked suddenly, after she'd opened her book and journal. The instant her quill had hit the page, he'd spoken.

She looked up at him in surprise, not quite sure what to make of his question.

"You needn't pretend you're actually interested, Malfoy." She replied shortly, before looking down again.

"It's not my fault you can't beat the one girl who has nothing on you." He crossed his arms, having the audacity to look disappointed with her.

"What could it possibly mean to you?" She asked, finally, setting down her quill and resting her arms on the table as she watched him.

"I just don't think it makes sense for you to bow out." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair to show an air of nonchalance.

"It makes perfect sense. Ronald likes Lavender. Not me. And I realized that I didn't expect him to like me. So it's not important."

"You could win, though." He said quietly, hardly moving, "If you wanted to."

"But that's just it. I don't want to. What Lavender wants, Lavender gets. I suppose I just don't want Ronald as much as everyone thought I should, so I told myself I should." She said, realizing the fact only as she said it.

"You're right, in a way. People did expect it of the two of you. Well, not everyone. I, for example, thought you could do better."

"Me? Of all people, why would the Mudlbood deserve better?" Hermione asked, scoffing and rolling her eyes.

Draco paused, and leaned forward, brow furrowing. "You shouldn't call yourself that." He murmured, watching her. "It's a stupid frame of mind, which I have recently learned I was in possession of. Unfortunate, though, that I tortured you over it before I finally came to realize how stupid I was being."

Hermione didn't quite know what to say to that. Finally, she settled on, "But why are you so against me letting Lavender win?"

"I just don't understand why you choose to settle. Even for the Weasel. When you could have anyone or anything you wanted. We all know you're insanely stubborn, and remarkably determined." He replied, not showing a hint of sarcasm or dishonesty in his voice or face.

Hermione frowned. "Nobody here expects any different, do they?" She asked in a whisper. "I'm just supposed to be perfect."

"Not perfect." He shook his head quickly.

"What then?"

He reached across the table and smiled at her softly as he closed her book and journal, stacking them atop the other. Picking up her quill, he regarded it as he finally spoke. "Definitely not perfect." He looked up at her rather confused, and almost slightly hurt expression. "Just you."

"Is that ever going to be enough for anyone, though?" Hermione sighed, looking down at her hands resting on the table. "Enough for a guy?"

"You don't even know, Hermione." He whispered. "You have no idea who could be the guy you're hoping for. Because you haven't looked far enough yet. Perhaps set your sights past the Gryffindor table. Why not start searching now?"

He winked at her, and shared a genuine smile, before picking up his back and leaving – only stopping to glance back as he made his way through the door.

Without thinking, without careful planning, and without worrying about how other people would react, Hermione grabbed her things and ran after him. It felt good not to think for once – and this time, she was sure she was on the right path.