Not Likely

by Reetinkerbell

First year of Hogwarts; Hermione makes a friend in the library, Draco, who teachers her to play chess. DracoxHermione friendship, written for interhouse fest.

Title: Not Likely
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger.
Summary: First year of Hogwarts; Hermione makes a friend in the library, Draco, who teachers her to play chess.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6 806
Spoilers: Behind-the-scenes compatible with Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: Thanks to my beta shag_me_draco.
Distribution: Link only please.
Written: November 2012 – For #20 at the interhouse_fest's (at LiveJournal) Third Round. Prompt at the end.

Not Likely (1/1)

Saturday, 7th of September
Hermione Granger sat in the library. She had completed all her reading, extended reading and homework to her own exceptional standard for all of her classes; it had been completed to the point where she was already three weeks ahead of where she needed to be in order to be ahead of the class.

Hermione Granger was bored. And she was lonely.

She had thought, when she received the letter from Hogwarts, that her life would change for the better. And while it had, in part, because she now had answers to all those questions she and her parents had asked over the years; why unexplained things happened to and around her. Hermione also ended up with an outlet for her extensive desire to learn and to prove herself and her worth.

So her life was better; if not for the problem of her loneliness, which had remained since her Muggle school days.

She had expected that to change; that she would be surrounded by likeminded people, who would accept her. It had been a difficult realization for Hermione, when she realised people didn't like her. It wasn't because she was odd, although that had certainly not helped. But she was… unlikable.

Only Neville, the kind but rather hapless boy she'd met on the train when he came looking for his toad, would sit with her. In class, she was generally ignored, rather than revered for her extensive knowledge as she'd dreamed; all the more impressive because she was a Muggleborn.

Hermione had been at Hogwarts for one week, and while she had enjoyed the initial time alone to explore the castle and go through her books one more time, now that she couldn't do more work and she had visited all the places that interested her, she began to feel lonely.

Almost everyone already knew each other, coming from Wizarding families who knew each other. The world she now found herself in was a close-knit society, and even if not all families interacted with each other, to Hermione, it seemed as though everyone already knew everyone else.

And those who didn't come to Hogwarts already knowing someone, seemed to have quickly found themselves included. Hermione hadn't expected it to be quite so apparent, but the first night in her new dorm had proven it to her. Lavender and Parvati had known each other since childhood and made no real attempts at including her in their conversations.

If there were others like her, who came from the outside world, they had been put in other houses and as far as Hermione had understood it, interaction between the houses was minimal. At least for the younger years. She felt too insecure to approach anyone from another house; the Slytherins had made it clear they didn't care for her, although she couldn't understand why all of them had issues with her coming from a Muggle family, and the other houses were so focused on those within their house already. She didn't share enough classes with the other houses to make friends, or maintain any friendship – except perhaps with a Ravenclaw, with whom she could probably study – but after class, everyone sat either grouped together or separate with a close friend.

Neither scenario was ideal for approaching to make friends.

Often, as she laid in bed and tried to compose a letter for her parents, in which she lied and said she was making friends, of course, because they worried, and she listened to Lavender and Parvati whisper and giggle on the other side of her bed curtain, she wished she'd been placed in another house.

She thought she'd have done well in Ravenclaw, and though she was proud to be a Gryffindor, she found herself often wondering why she Sorting Hat had placed her in the wrong House. Having read Hogwarts, A History, cover to cover in the days following her Hogwarts letter, Hermione and her parents had lived with the expectation of her being placed in Ravenclaw. When she told her parents which House she had been placed in, they had been just as surprised.

It was Saturday, and Hermione sat alone in the library. No one but Madam Pince was there; not even the upper students whose workload was heavier than Hermione's. It was the first week of classes and though everyone had already been given homework, few wanted to spend their first Saturday back at Hogwarts studying, when they could be hanging out with friends they might not have seen all summer.

Hermione tapped her quill against the table, staring listlessly out the window at the clear sky. The day was beautiful, and she was just contemplating a walk around the grounds; down to the Great Lake maybe, as she hadn't been in the daytime yet, when a noise behind her startled her out of her thoughts.

She looked over her shoulder and saw a blond boy; his pale cheeks tinted a faint red as he met her eyes. He looked as startled to see her as Hermione felt at his sudden presence, and she had the idiotic urge to fix her impossible hair. He looked behind him, down the row of bookcases, as if looking for someone, before stepping forward; now almost hesitatingly.

He avoided her eyes as he dumped his bag on the table next to hers, but his cheeks had reddened further, as if aware of her staring.

It was Draco Malfoy. Even if Hermione hadn't remembered his introduction and subsequent acceptance into the Slytherin House, she remembered well his introduction on the train. They had crossed paths in the train corridor, both of them alone; he was striding purposely towards what she assumed was his compartment while she was on her way to the front to speak with the conductor. It was more of a distraction than a particular need, her visiting the conductor; she had no one to sit with, and felt awkward.

Their eyes had met and they had both stared at each other; Hermione looked away as they passed each other by, while he had stopped to look at her better.

"Wait," he'd said, and she too had stopped.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he'd continued, holding out his hand when she stopped and turned to him. "I saw you on the platform."

Hermione had taken his hand, smiling at what she thought would be her first friend. "I'm Hermione Granger," she'd replied. "Where are you-" she'd started to say.

But with his face twisted in a frown, he'd dropped her hand. "Oh, you're a Muggle." It hadn't been a question.

"I am Muggleborn," Hermione corrected.

He looked at her for a moment, before turning away without a word. Hermione had wanted to follow him, ask him what he meant by his reaction. But before she could work up the courage to confront him, the door to a compartment further down opened and a dark-haired girl looked out.

"Draco, come on," she called.

Hermione wasn't far enough away to miss their conversation when the girl saw Hermione standing there; they made no attempts at hiding it. Draco had dismissed her without preamble, saying she was just a Muggle he'd had the misfortune of almost bumping into.

Tears in her eyes, Hermione had turned and pretended she wasn't hurt.

Now, a week later, there he was again. They did share one class, Potions, and she had seen him before in the hallways and in the Great Hall, but never before had he been as alone as she. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed her as much as she had noticed him though; his hair was like a beacon her eyes sought whenever he was in the vicinity. He had probably only noticed her in class, when she called attention to herself by raising her hand.

He sat down, opened a book and nearly buried his face into the pages. Hermione turned back to her own book; she'd attempted to read something light and utterly Wizard, to further immerse herself in the world she found herself in. She'd found a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and though she found it interesting, so far she had only managed two of the stories.

Draco cleared his throat at the other table. Hermione looked up at him, expectantly. His eyes were still determinately focused on his book, so Hermione heaved a quiet sigh and ignored him again.

"So, how are you?" he asked suddenly, quietly.

Hermione blinked, and looked at him in surprise. Again, his eyes were on his book, but his head was tilted slightly in her direction.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied, not a little confused. But she had been raised to be polite. "And you?"

"I'm good," Draco replied, before they fell once more into silence.

"What are you reading?" Hermione asked after a moment.

"Transfiguration," Draco answered, finally looking up at her. He looked away quickly again, but he'd met her eyes briefly.

"You haven't done the homework yet?" Hermione realised only too late the tone she had used, and she nearly cringed, sure she'd scared him away.

"Oh, I have," Draco said quickly, seemingly not noticing her changing into McGonagall, "I wanted to get ahead."

"I'm the same," Hermione revealed, taking the chance and smiling at him.

Draco turned towards her, still in his chair and returned the smile. He met her eyes head-on. "You are the first person I've met who studies as hard as I."

"The same," Hermione replied in a low voice, hoping she wasn't blushing.

Hours later, Hermione looked up from her conversation with Draco about a book they'd both read over the summer, and realised it had grown darker outside. Glancing at her watch, she realised it was now well into the dinner hour, and if they wanted to eat they had best be getting themselves to the Great Hall quickly. She told Draco, and he seemed as surprised as her – and not entirely pleased that their conversation had been cut short.

They gathered their books and walked side by side towards the doors of the library. When they reached the bottom floor, Draco hesitated.

"I uh- I have to go drop my books off," he said, motioning towards where Hermione knew the entrance to the Slytherin house was located, "I will see you later."

Hermione smiled, nodded but said nothing. She watched him go, the sadness and loneliness she'd felt just hours before creeping back, as she realised he wouldn't be able to sit with her during dinner.

She hoped Neville was still in the Great Hall, so she wouldn't have to eat completely alone.

– – –

Sunday, 8th of September
"Don't you know how to play, Lady?" squeaked the miniature Knight, gazing angrily up at her. "You can't sacrifice me, send him off," he pointed to a Bishop, who looked affronted at the suggestion.

"Um, I suppose-" Hermione tried, feeling slightly flustered. Chess had never been something she'd taken a particular interest in, and never had anyone to play with besides, and the Wizarding version was highly distracting. She made a motion to pick up the Bishop, as the Knight had suggested, but when her hand came close, he tried to bite her fingers.

The nearby Knight poked at him with his sword, cursing him out in a colourful language. "Don't you do that to a lady!"

Hermione looked up at Draco, blushing as she noticed he was trying to hold in his laughter. The pawns were all his, and not shy about making their opinions known as they laughed freely.

She harrumphed, looking down at the board again when a minor scuffle broke out between the Bishop, the Knight and one of Draco's pawns, who had come to help the Knight under the guise of defending her honour; Hermione thought he just wanted to fight, as the Pawn in question certainly looked the part.

"All right, that's enough from you," Hermione said sternly. The pieces broke apart, and slouched back to their spaces, grumbling and throwing each other dark looks. "Rook to… H3."

Before the Rook could protest, Draco burst into laughter. "Granger, you can't move the rook diagonally, only horizontally and vertically, remember?"

"Oh, right," Hermione replied absentmindedly, frowning. She knew she shouldn't have agreed to a game before she'd had a chance to study up on chess. He'd been nice about teaching her, but she felt uncomfortable knowing that she had no real idea how to play the game properly.

"And you call her a lady?" the Bishop asked the Knight snidely.

"Hey, that's enough out of you!" Draco told him, "or it's back to the drawer with the lot of you."

"Fine," the Bishop agreed, crossing his arms. The Knight shook his fist warningly at the Bishop, in a promise of things to come. With the warning of being placed back in the box and not played with for Merlin knew how long, the Knight wasn't the only one suddenly throwing the Bishop some dark and threatening looks – even his brother Bishop was giving him the stink-eye.

"I don't think they like me very much," Hermione said to Draco.

As one, all of the pieces looked up at them, their miniature faces showing various degrees of disagreement.

"That's not true," Draco's Queen called out. "You're just the first girl we have ever played with!"

"Oh," Hermione blushed, looking down to prevent Draco from seeing her flaming cheeks. She needn't have worried however, as Draco had looked away in embarrassment too.

It was Sunday evening, after dinner, and they had been trying to play chess for almost an hour. Only earlier that day Hermione had revealed that she'd never played chess, after Draco made a comment about it.

It had rained in the morning, and with Lavender and Parvati sleeping in and the common room filled with people she didn't know, Hermione had sought refuge in the library, again. She'd been surprised when Draco showed up not long after breakfast, this time looking as though he was seeking her out.

They had spent the day together, forgetting about lunch as they chatted. They were in a fairly secluded spot of the library, and though a handful of students entered through-out the day to study or find a particular book, they were left alone. The only separation came with dinner, after which Draco went by his room to pick up his chess board and two sets; his newest pieces, gifted to him by his father when he turned eight, and the old set he'd inherited from the Black family and which he had learnt with, which he lent Hermione.

"So, um, you could move your other bishop," Draco pointed to the piece. "Of course if you did that, then I would move my pawn one step forward and then you would have to move that same bishop again so that I couldn't take it, if but if you did that, I would just take your queen."

Hermione sighed. "I give up."

A chorus of no came from the board.

"It has been so long since we got to play!" one of the pawns on Draco's side squeaked. A series of nods from many of the other pieces followed. "Please don't quit now, my lady."

Hermione smiled; she couldn't help but feel charmed by them. "All right, but I need some help." She directed the last to Draco, trusting him more than the chess pieces; they had, after all, been integrated with self-preservation enough that they rather sacrifice a more important piece than risk their own position.

"All right," Draco agreed.

They spent the next forty minutes, as the sun set outside, slowly playing through a game. Hermione won, but only just; Draco allowed her to win, and with the help of the chess pieces, they had a very entertaining match.

It had grown dark outside, so once the game was over and the chess pieces had slouched their way back into their box, Draco and Hermione reluctantly said goodbye. They separated by the double doors outside of the library, Hermione going up and Draco heading down towards the dungeons, his chessboard and box under an arm.

As Hermione laid in bed later that night, she thought over the weekend she'd had with a smile. She'd started her Saturday off, friendless and bored, and now, now she had a friend.

– – –

Thursday, 12th of September
Hermione had spent the previous evening ploughing through the book Draco had recommended, when she revealed how nervous she was for the start of their flight training. Quidditch through the Ages had indeed included a lot of information, as he'd promised, but Hermione still felt like she'd learnt nothing.

At breakfast, she was so nervous, she couldn't help but bore everyone, with all that she had learnt from the book; everyone save poor Neville, who was as nervous as her. Reciting facts had always helped calm her, but that morning it wasn't helping much. And it certainly wasn't helping her make friends at the table; Hermione saw Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who sat beside each other across from her, share a mocking look as she talked.

She'd felt both relieved and increasingly nervous when she had learnt Gryffindors would be sharing their flying lessons with the Slytherins; glad, because that meant Draco would be there, but nervous for the very same reason – she didn't want to make a fool out of herself in front of him.

Neville was showing off his Remembrall, excited, when the boy who was now constantly in her thoughts walked by and snatched it from him. Hermione gave him an odd look; she'd never before seen him antagonise the Gryffindors so blatantly, but with the way Harry and Ron reacted, she was sure it wasn't the first time he'd behaved in such a way. She looked away, pretending to be interested in her food when Professor McGonagall arrived and all but shooed Draco away.

He left, but not before he'd dropped a note on the table for her, before dropping the Remembrall closer to Neville; his actions had been unseen to everyone but Hermione, as their focus was elsewhere. He shot her a look before he turned and left with his cronies. Hermione snatched up the scrap bit of parchment he'd left her, and as Neville talked to Seamus on his other side, she looked at the note.

In Draco's sloppy scrawl, the note read; "You'll do great. Don't worry."

Hermione smiled, pocketed the note and ate her toast.

– – –

Friday, 13th of September
Hermione had tried to stop Harry from allowing himself to be antagonised by Draco, she really had. But it seemed that the more she tried, and the worse looks she shot Draco to get him to stop behaving so badly, the more he tried to rile every Gryffindor up by acting like a prat.

After class, when Harry had been led away and Draco had stood watching the dark-haired boy leave with a big smirk on his face, Hermione had watched him, disappointed. She ignored him for the rest of the day, despite his attempts at getting her attention. She even went so far as hiding out in her room until dinner, and doing her best to not look his way as she ate.

Her plans were foiled when Draco came up to the table with his cronies, and challenged Harry to a wizarding duel. She managed to not look up from her plate until he left, shooting her a triumphant grin.

Hermione tried to reason with Harry and Ron, but the two boys were too blinded by their silly pride to see reason. She watched them go despite her protests, and she was sure she the laughter she heard from them as they walked down the Great Hall was directed at her.

Never the less, Hermione had thick skin; she had been through much worse in her old school. She wasn't going to let her hurt feelings get in the way of protecting someone she cared about. While Harry and Ron might not care about Gryffindor losing points, Hermione did.

And what was more, she worried what would happen to all boys involved; both in the duel and when they were caught.

She would find a way to stop the fight before it happened.

– – –

Hermione sent Draco an owl, asking him to not show up for the duel. She didn't sign it, but she knew he would recognise her writing, and she hoped he was less pig-headed than her Housemates and listen to her.

She spent the rest of the evening think about how to stop Harry and Ron; the thought to tell Percy, Ron's older brother and a Gryffindor Prefect, even entered her mind. It was dismissed though, when she realised that telling Percy would lead to losing points for Gryffindor, as he was sure to dock both boys for even thinking about duelling, and that was one of the things she was trying to prevent.

In the end, Hermione decided to simply wait up for Harry and Ron to make their escape, and either reason with them then, or bother them so much they were too late for the duel in the first place. If Draco even showed up.

But things didn't go according to plan.

She was locked out of the tower, having foolishly followed the boys out in her attempt at stopping them, and the Fat Lady was nowhere to be found. Hermione was nothing if not adaptable, so her plan changed; she would follow the boys to the duel and stop them there. If Filch caught them, she would be honest; as much as she wanted to protect Gryffindor from losing points, she was not going to be dragged down into detention when she'd done nothing wrong.

They hadn't gone far when they found Neville, sleeping on the ground. The poor, foolish, boy had forgotten the password and, being too scared to be left alone again, he came with them.

Their little groups' expansion meant they were more likely to be spotted, so they had to be extra careful. This meant silence, for which Hermione was more than happy to comply with.

When Draco wasn't in the Trophy room when they arrived, Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief. Until the voice of Filch could be heard in the next room; Draco had told on them.

The four Gryffindors did the only thing they could think of; they ran.

Wildly, down whichever corridor and through whichever door they could found that would take them away from Filch.

It was only when they finally stopped, wheezing and more than slightly afraid, that Hermione voiced her thoughts; Draco had betrayed them, and had probably never thought to come in the first place.

Hermione could tell Harry agreed with her, though he said nothing.

Once they were calm, and their breathing returned to normal, they decided to head back to the Tower, in the hopes of the Fat Lady having returned. But that was easier said than done; they hadn't gone far when they encountered Peeves, who of course gave them away.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" he bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

They ran again, down a hallway which dead-ended in a locked door. Hermione was glad she had her wand with her, having almost left it on her bedside table when she went down to the Common Room to wait for Harry and Ron.

They entered the room, slamming the door just in time. Pressing their ears against the wood, they could heard Peeves and Filch talking; Filch luckily not getting much out of Peeves.

It wasn't until Harry turned around at Neville's insistence, and let out an undignified squeak that Hermione turned around.

Her blood froze as she stared at the beast; a gigantic, three headed dog. Staring right back at them.

Hermione blinked and tried to look away, but all she could see was the dog's big glittering eyes and gigantic fangs. She swallowed thickly, trying to back away. When the dog began to growl, Hermione felt Harry trying to open the door at her side.

He got it open after a tense moment of fumbling, and all four students fell through the opening; Hermione spied, just as she fell back, a small outline in the floor. A trapdoor.

The door closed with a slam, and they all ran as if the beast was following them, back to the Tower. Not one of them even cared if Filch or a teacher saw them; they all just wanted to get away from the forbidden room. By a stroke of good luck; the only good luck they'd had all evening, not only did they make it back to their Common Room without being spotted, but the Fat Lady had returned, and she let them in without much fuss.

Hermione had been the only one to see the trapdoor, and her fear made her lash out. Even though she had only spotted it at the last minute, and then almost accidentally, she made it sound as if she'd seen it right away; as if she'd been cool and level-headed in the room, while the three boys had floundered around in fear, unable to see anything but the monstrous dog.

Before she went up to her bed, Hermione couldn't help but gripe at them some more. She heard Ron's reply, but chose to ignore it. She knew they didn't consider her a friend; and frankly, she didn't want to be a friend of theirs anyway.

– – –

Saturday, 14th of September
Hermione sat in the library, waiting for Draco. Instead of working on her Charms essay, or reading the interesting book she found in the Muggle section, which had been used as reading material for Muggle Studies in years past, she sat staring out the window.

He was late.

When he arrived, looking smug even as she threw him a glare, she stood to meet him.

"Hi," he greeted as he placed his bag on the table. "I brought the chess." He smiled at her, ignoring her not entirely happy expression.

"Do you know what you did?" she asked him, her voice low. Though the library was fairly empty, it being still quite early, more and more students had begun taking their classwork seriously and were beginning to spend more time in the library.

"What do you mean?" he feigned ignorance.

"Last night, Draco. Do you know what you did?"

Draco couldn't help but smirk. "Potter and Weasley got detention, did they?"

"No." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "But you almost got us-" killed, she wanted to say, but couldn't, "in serious trouble."

Draco frowned. "Wait, you were there?"

Hermione nodded.

"Why were you there?" he suddenly sounded upset, as if she'd done something wrong.

"Never you mind why; this isn't about me – this is about you," Hermione felt defensive. "You told Filch!"

He rolled his eyes in reply. "Of course I did; you didn't think I was actually planning on meeting those dolts did you?"

"I hoped not, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low as that," Hermione replied. "I'm very disappointed. It's my house too you know; if they lose points, I lose points."

Draco said nothing.

They stared at each other for a few moments in tense silence.

"This isn't going to work," Hermione said finally.

"What, why?" He sneered. "You going back to your other little friends?"

"What?" Hermione felt hurt bloom in her heart; she didn't think he would throw it in her face that she had no other friends but him.

"Potter and Weasley. Why else would you want to protect them?" Draco sneered, trying to mask his hurt. "Or even go with them, huh? You don't need me now that you have them, right? Perfect Potter and his stupid side-kick."

"That's not even a little bit true," Hermione returned, her voice hard. "I'm not friends with them and I certainly never will be."

"Then why?"

Hermione took a moment to think, studying the boy in front of her. He could twist his face into a calm and aloof mask, pretending he didn't care, but his eyes didn't lie; in his eyes were a hint of worry, and of hurt.

"I can't be friends with someone who tries to antagonise everyone around him. And you're trying to make my House lose points, Draco. It's not fair."

"So if I stop, you'll stop this nonsense about not meeting with me again."

"Fine," Hermione agreed, almost sullenly – even though she was glad. She didn't want to stop meeting with Draco. She enjoyed spending time with him.

"All right." He held up the chess board, almost tentatively. "Shall we attempt this again?"

"I'm getting better!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting down again.

"Yeah, sure you are," Draco agreed unconvincingly.

He smiled when Hermione slapped his arm gently; relieved their argument had been resolved so quickly.

– – –

Saturday, 5th of October
Time passed. Quickly it felt like, most of the time.

A month had passed since her unforgettable encounter with the three-headed dog, and while Draco had mostly kept his promise to not antagonise Harry and Ron, or any of the other Gryffindor students, he was still unable to keep from retaliating when he perceived himself in the need to do so.

Hermione had mostly let it go; she got the impression that Harry and Ron enjoyed having an adversary their own age, whom they could plot against and be mean to, just as much as Draco enjoyed having them around to needle.

She and Draco met as often as they could, which proved to be quite often indeed. They studied together a lot, hidden away in the nooks and crannies of the library, or in unused rooms. But most of the time they spent together was spent playing games and talking. She learned a lot about him, from his aunt on his mother's side, whom he referred to as "bat-shit crazy", who was locked up somewhere, to his great grandfather on his father's side, who had once been locked in an Egyptian pyramid for over a century.

She told him about her life too, and of her family. Though he didn't understand most things she told him, and she had to explain how a telly worked in detail, he was as fascinated with her world as she was with his.

They traded books, and spoke at length over the finer points of each.

He was a good friend, and Hermione enjoyed spending time with him.

Sometimes, she would overhear things in the Common Room about him; Harry and Ron spoke of him in a derisive way, and even Neville chimed in. The older students talked of him as well, focusing more on his family and how much they hated him because he was a Malfoy, than of their dislike of Draco himself; everyone just assumed he was like his father, whom no one seemed to consider a good man.

Hermione did her best to ignore it; she saw the good in Draco, and though she had been confronted more than once with evidence of his not entirely pleasant behaviour, it had never been directed at her. And he was her only friend; she wasn't going to give their friendship up simply because he didn't get along with everyone in the school.

"You're actually getting better, Granger, I'm impressed!" Draco joked, smiling up at her.

Hermione smiled. "You've helped a lot," she said, looking down at the chess pieces as she felt herself blush.

Draco smiled, looking away as well; his cheeks were so naturally pale that any slight colour change showed immediately.

"Hey, how about us?!" cried her Bishop, sounding affronted. He crossed his arms from where he stood by a yawning Rook, both of them having been lost early on in the game. "We're helping!"

"Yes, of course, yes, thank you, all of you," Hermione quickly agreed, not wanting to get on bad footing with them; they were surprisingly emotional, the whole lot of them. They were now hers; Draco had given them to her on her birthday, almost hesitatingly; he'd been worried she wouldn't want something that was not new, but Hermione had been more than happy and glad to accept the pieces, as the pieces had to be given to her officially.

Later, when they packed up and prepared to leave, Hermione finished before Draco. He was still packing up his book bag with the boxes of chess pieces when she turned to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" she asked, still feeling hesitant, though he'd given her no real reason to worry.

"Yes," he replied, smiling. He came towards her, shouldering his bag as he did.

They walked together towards the doors through the quiet library. Dinner time had already started, and most students were already in the Great Hall.

"I'm gonna head down to drop my bag off," Draco said, as he usually did, when they reached the corridor outside of the library.

"All right, I'll see you later," Hermione agreed.

Draco nodded. He hesitated before leaving, as if he wanted to say something.

"Draco?" Hermione called softly after him.

He turned, looking almost hopeful. Hermione walked up to him, and quick as a flash, pressed her lips in a soft kiss against his cheek.

Blushing, Hermione smiled before turning on her heel and hurrying away. Draco, his cheeks flaming red, watched her walking away, a big smile blooming.

Only when she disappeared around the corner did he turn, and almost floated down the hallway towards his underground Common Room.

– – –

Tuesday, 29th of October
"Could you help me get a book down?" Hermione asked Draco, dragging him from the table into a book aisle before he'd had a chance to reply.

"Sure," Draco said anyway, unnecessarily. "What book?"

"It's for Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall mentioned it in class earlier, it's," Hermione looked down the row of books on one of the shelves, "there it is," she pointed to a green-covered book with gold writing.

Draco tried to reach it, but he was almost as short as Hermione, and couldn't reach it even when he was standing on his toes. He tried to jump, but though his fingers brushed the right book, he only managed to push it in further.

Frowning, he stepped back and glared at the book. "Is there a ladder anywhere?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "None that I saw. Maybe I can find one though."

Draco nodded, heading one way while Hermione went the other.

Marcus Flint sat at a table, frowning over his homework. The quill in his mouth had been chewed to pieces, and he looked incredibly frustrated. Hearing a noise, he looked up at Draco and nodded in recognition and acknowledgement. Though Flint was older, Draco came from a powerful Wizarding family, and Flint knew to recognise him now so that when he graduated, he'd have a leg-in with the Malfoy family.

At least that was what his father had imprinted in his mind when he realised the young Malfoy was starting at Hogwarts that year.

"Malfoy," he said in greeting, throwing his quill down on the table.

"Flint," Draco returned, nodding in greeting. He was about to turn around and head back to look for a ladder in another place, when Flint asked him what he was up to. "Looking for a ladder; there's a book I need."

Flint frowned. "Don't you got your wand? Just Accio the damned thing."

"I- yeah, I hadn't thought of that," Draco admitted. "My wand is in my bag. I'll just-" he motioned over his shoulder with a thumb.

He was just about to escape, when Hermione came around the corner behind him.

"I found a ladder," she said, holding up the green book she'd wanted his help getting.

Draco and Flint locked eyes; Draco almost audibly gulped at the look in Flint's eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he told Hermione, his voice hard. He turned to her, ignoring the confused and hurt look in her eyes. "Go away."

"I'm just-"

"Yeah, whatever," Draco interrupted, turning to walk in a different direction. He ignored Flint and he ignored Hermione, both of who looked after him when he hurried away.

He returned to their table, the long way around. Hermione was already there.

"So um, what did you need the book for?" he tried.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

Draco closed his eyes. "No," he said finally, looking at her. "I'm not ashamed of you, of course not."

"Then what is it?" Hermione pushed on.

Draco hedged, and hawed. But Hermione didn't give up, pushing him into a corner with no way out.

"No one can know we're friends," Draco finally admitted.

She recoiled from him. "Why?" Hermione asked, incredibly hurt.

Draco sighed, defeated. "You're a Muggleborn. If my father found out..." he didn't continue, but Hermione understood.

"I see," she said. She backed away.

"Hermione, please, I'm sorry, I-" he followed, but Hermione held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't," she said, a lump growing in her throat and tears threatening. "I get it."

"I don't think that," he tried, watching her sadly, "but no one can know."

"Right." Hermione nodded to herself, picking up her bag. "I'll just be going then."

"Hermione-"

"I'll see you later," she said, almost absentmindedly out of habit.

"Hermione."

Hermione left, not looking behind her at Draco, who stood by their usual table, in the little nook at the back of the library that seemed to have been hidden just for them; probably had been, considering the castle was magical.

She made it to the old bathroom on the second-floor, which no one used because it was haunted, before the tears fell.

She felt betrayed, and she felt heartbroken; he hadn't been her friend. Not really. She was alone again.

– – –

Saturday, 2nd of November
It was late; Hermione almost always arrived earlier than him, and was already waiting when he came.

It was long after lunch, and Draco was hungry. He'd arrived right after breakfast, in the hopes that she would come. After their argument Thursday, he'd not seen her much, aside from in class and in the Great Hall.

Today he was worried. He often looked at Hermione while they were eating; she didn't always look back, but that was all right. He looked at her because he wanted to; to keep an eye on her, to watch her whenever he had a chance, and because he worried.

She looked lonely. While Hermione did talk to some of her classmates, some of the time, while they ate, most of the time she didn't. She sat, close to others, but was not included in their conversations. She often brought a book or homework, to have something to do while she ate; if she didn't eat quickly and hurried away again.

But this morning, as he watched her at breakfast, he noticed a difference.

Hermione was laughing.

And worse yet, she was laughing with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

He didn't know what'd happened since Halloween, but something had changed. They seemed to now be... friends.

Draco looked at his watch, ignoring the hungry grumblings of his stomach. Lunch had been over for half an hour now, and Draco decided to give up.

He had lost her. He'd felt it Thursday, but he'd held on hope that she'd only needed a few days to cool off. But if she had made new friends, friends who could be open about their friendship with her, she wouldn't need him.

Draco packed up his chessboard and pieces, ignoring them as they accused him of playing with their feelings and his rough handling of them. He tossed the box of chess pieces into his bag and stood.

His head bowed, he headed out of their usual nook, making his way slowly through the aisles. He was almost at the doors when he spotted Hermione, her back towards him.

Draco smiled, about to walk up to her when he noticed Potter.

"Hermione, honestly," the dark-haired boy complained as he followed the girl to a table. "It's not due until Tuesday."

"And you have a Potions essay due tomorrow, and a Transfiguration essay due Tuesday also. Are you saying you're going to be able to do both Transfiguration and Charms tomorrow night?"

"Er, no, I guess not," Potter relented.

Draco followed them, as quietly as he could. He couldn't believe his eyes; Hermione, his Hermione, with Harry-Freaking-Potter.

The only thing missing now was one of the Weasleys.

Just as the thought crossed Draco's mind, the youngest Weasley shouldered his way past Draco, not so accidentally knocking Draco into a bookcase.

"Fred and George got some pumpkin pastries from the kitchen," he said to his friends when he reached them. "We need more food if we're going to get anything done."

Hermione laughed, and agreed.

Draco, his head lowered once more, walked out of the library, his heart hurting and his jealousy burning.

The End.

Prompt:
First year Hogwarts. Hermione challenges Draco to a game of (author, you decide the game - Gobstones, Exploding Snap, Wizard's Chess, etc.) in secret. He accepts... Things would never be the same between them again.