Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: This takes place during Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy.

Draco Malfoy hated Mudbloods. Detested them. Loathed them. In fact, he found them so unutterably repulsive that it was necessary to purge and destroy any part of his clothing were it to accidentally brush up against a Mudblood. To Draco, that would be acting accordingly—not one bit overboard, because it in fact might even be one bit underboard—and no sodding idiot could convince him otherwise. He was a Malfoy, after all, and Malfoys were bred to expect refinement in every aspect of their lives. That included having Mudblood-less clothing.

Given those obvious standards, Malfoy would have assumed that all the other Mudblood boundaries would have been clear. Speaking with, looking at, and Merlin forbid, touching—pretty much avoiding any form of contact with those bloody worthless creatures was something that Malfoy considered to be extremely important when it came to upholding his pristine reputation as Draco Malfoy. Even sharing a desk with a flobberworm would have been a more appealing encounter than having to sit beside any of the Muds.

Amazingly enough, the other sods just didn't get it. Especially those damn Hufflepuffs. And Ravenclaws. And Gryffindors. Yes. The Gryffindors were the worst of them all—Saint Potter and his weasel sidekick acting as if they own the bloody castle. Not to mention their Mudblood Granger.

Draco shuddered. A cold trail of dread passed down his back, cutting a hard path across his shoulder blades. No, it wouldn't do to contemplate that Mudblood. She was the bane of his existence. Any whiff of her—should it be her scent, her bushy hair, her voice, her face, her—blast it all, just any tiny speck of Granger, should any of it come across Draco's path, his senses would shrivel up inside him like an ugly, heavy, dead thing and whatever remained of him would whittle away with the scraps of his pride. Because she made him feel heated—tainted, out of control. Merlin, the bloody woman sent him into a head-spinning, mind-numbing tail-spin. The term "head over heels" had never been so real to him before.

And all of that only made him hate her more. She was a Mudblood. Not something for him to lose his mind over. And bloody hell did he lose his mind over her.

Draco clutched his head. He was feeling a little queasy. He considered returning to his common room—the towering stacks of junk scattered about the room were never a comforting landscape for him—but he quickly dismissed that idea. No. The blasted Vanishing Cabinet was taking longer to mend than he'd expected. He could not afford any more interruptions. He loathed to think what might happen if he couldn't fix it on time.

Draco moved to examine the cabinet when he heard a sound. Almost inaudible, barely there—but Draco, he heard it. His heart pounded in his ears as his mind retreated into a panicked—and usually useless in that state—platform. His eyes darted around for somewhere to hide. He spotted an old sofa tipped over on its side, and decided it would have to do.

Diving behind the rotting piece of furniture, Draco kept his ears peeled. He'd only ever been interrupted once before. Trelawney had come searching for a place to hide her sherry bottles, and Draco had thrown her out. He hadn't been one bit regretful over that, either. Once he figured out who had the gall to intrude on him this time, he'd do the same to them.

Whoever it was, they were getting closer. He heard a voice—was there more than one person? He wondered in dread. But no…there were no responses. Just one voice. He concluded that whoever it was—and it did sound feminine—she was speaking to herself.

"Idiot, what a complete idiot," the girl was ranting. "How utterly inconsiderate he is. Prancing around with Lavender, always connected by the lips. They wouldn't notice if they were walking straight off a cliff!"

It was Granger.

Draco could always recognize her voice. And she sounded thoroughly bothered. It twisted something fierce in the pit of his stomach. Of all the people to come to the Room of Hidden Things while he was there, it had to be her. He was growing sweaty as he continued to listen to her.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she ground out. It was as if each syllable took a lot of effort for her to release. Draco heard a thump, and then a loud crash. He couldn't see what she was doing, but assumed that she'd either hit something and it knocked over, or she'd been the one to bump into something and was the one to fall over. Despite the pleasant thrumming in his chest, he hoped it had been the latter. Dumb Mudblood deserved that.

"Ow," she moaned. "Oh no, where's my wand?"

Draco gulped. She'd lost her wand. This would be the perfect chance for him to approach her, for him to kick her out.

She let out another sound of complaint. "Now I'll never find that Ancient Runes book Harry told me about."

So she was searching for something. And if what she'd said was anything to go by, Potter knew the Room of Hidden Things well enough to send his precious Mudblood here in search of something. That was not good, not good at all. Draco would have to be more careful from now on. That was something he could worry about later. For now, he had to do some housekeeping. Kick out the Mudblood.

"Granger," he sneered, appearing from behind the sofa. He had his wand trained on her. For her part, she was completely taken off guard by his sudden appearance. She squeaked in surprise, and fell back on her bottom. She'd been on her haunches, crouched low with her hands reaching below the stacks of rubbish in search of her wand—at least, he'd assumed it was the wand she was looking for. What kind of bloody fool would be searching for an Ancient Runes text down there?

"Malfoy," she breathed. "What are you doing here?" There was that familiar bite to her tone. The one that she always used when they would encounter each other.

"I could ask you the same, Mudblood," he smirked. "I was here first, wasn't I? And since you're wandless and I'm not, I would suggest you leave. Now."

"But—"

"Get the bloody fuck out of here," Draco glowered, advancing so that he loomed over her. Granger looked intent on rising to her feet, but with Draco's wand so near her face, she seemed to think better of it. He noticed that she was holding a large book in her hands—had she already found the blasted book? No, that wasn't possible, he rationalized. She'd only just mentioned how she wouldn't be able to find it without her wand. Knowing the dumb Mudblood, she'd probably brought the book with her. He wouldn't put it past her to enjoy the company of a book over Potter and Weasley.

"Let me just get my wand first," she said slowly, her glare a deep, muddy color.

"Accio wand," he said lazily. Granger's wand flew into his open palm and he closed his fingers over it.

Oh, if looks could kill.

"Malfoy, give me my wand," she said through grit teeth. Draco was pocketing her wand now, and immensely enjoying her reaction. Granger's face was flushed, her eyes narrowed, and there was a smearing of something fierce, something potent in her expression that made him feel mushy inside. She was determined. And seemingly not intimidated. No, that would certainly not do.

"Leave this place, and I'll return you your wand," he said superiorly.

"As if, Malfoy," she scoffed. "Give me my wand. You know it's against school policy to steal another student's wand."

"And you would know that," he sneered. Dumb Mudblood probably had every school rule memorized since first year. Aside from her dirty blood, wouldn't her abysmal goody-two-shoes personality and complete lack of style set him off from her? Just what in God's name was it about her that made him feel like his insides were made of cream pudding? It was bloody stupid. "Besides, I'm not stealing anything. I'm kindly offering it back."

"In exchange for a bogus deal. I have every right to be here as you do," Granger retorted.

"Tsk tsk," he shook his head. This had to be the longest isolated conversation he'd ever had with the Mudblood, and he couldn't say he wanted it to end yet. "That's the problem with you Gryffindors. Think everything is entitled to you."

"You're acting quite defensive," she accused, finally on her feet. Granger brushed her robes off, and then extended her hand expectantly. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Draco recoiled from her as if she'd touched him. She was too bloody close. "Sod off. It's none of your business, that's what it is. Just get the hell out of here."

She squared her shoulders. "I don't think so. This place is big enough for the both of us to go about our business."

"That it's not," he said, growing irritated. "I will not "go about my business" in the same space as a Mudblood."

She didn't even have the decency to flinch at the insult. Had he worn it into her that much? Had she grown immune to it? "Then you can leave if you feel like my presence is too much of a burden for you."

She was stalking closer to him, slowly. Her palm was still outstretched as if he would bend to her nasty Mudblood whim and actually forfeit her damn wand, just like that.

Draco soon found himself backed against the Vanishing Cabinet. If Granger moved any closer, she'd be able to reach into his robes and retrieve her wand. Now, he didn't expect her to have the gall to do that, but he didn't want to risk a closer proximity with her. He was already feeling light-headed. Sweat cropped up along his neck. Something thick was lodged in his throat, and just overall he felt like a lovesick jackass liable to melt into the ground if she so ever got one inch closer…

"Get away from me, Granger," he snarled, attempting to maneuver himself out of her reach.

"Give me my wand." There was a lilt to her words now; perhaps desperation? He could only hope. If that were the case, there still might be a chance of getting out of this unscathed.

"Leave, and then—"

Damn the Mudblood! She reached forward and attempted to stick her filthy hand into his robes. Draco jerked back. Her fingers brushed over the edge of his robe, but her movement had sent him railing against the Vanishing Cabinet. He heard something crack, splinter. Like wood breaking. Had he damaged the sodding piece of junk even more?

He cursed loudly.

Granger had retreated from him, as Draco quickly spun away from the cabinet. He circled around her, which inconveniently enough brought them into an opposite position. Her against the cabinet and him pinning her there, though he made no attempt to touch her or bind her there with his arms.

Granger's book was clutched to her chest as she peered at him with nervous eyes. She could see that he was angry. Good, the dumb Mudblood was observant. But, no…what did she think she was doing? She was leaning against the cabinet now, touching the spot he'd just slammed into…

"Get away FROM THE BLOODY CABINET!"

She stared at him, wide-eyed. It didn't take her long, though. They didn't call her the brightest witch of their age for nothing.

"This is why you're in here?" She asked incredulously.

Shit! Fuck! No. Granger was the last person he wanted to know about it. She'd probably skip off to Dumbledore's office right after this and tell him what Draco was doing in the Room of Requirement. She would ruin everything.

No, he couldn't let that happen. He had to fix this. Fix it now. Granger was already pinning him with a suspicious look. "What could you be doing with this cabinet, Malfoy?" She asked coolly, though he could tell she was anything but cool. She was intrigued, excited. What did the dumb Mudblood have to be excited about? He could see the cogs working in her brain, could see the logic churning across her expression. She was puzzling it out, wasn't she? The blasted witch was unraveling his secret as he himself unraveled in a floundering state of panic, all in front of her. He'd never felt more hatred, more physical, burning hatred for anyone than he did at that moment.

He made a split moment decision.

He Obliviated her.

And Draco only realized what a stupid idea that was until she'd collapsed into his arms and he was left with the daunting responsibility of taking care of her. He bloody well couldn't leave her there for someone else to find. But what could he do? Draco had never cast that spell before and he had no idea exactly how much of her memory he'd just blasted away.

"Damn Mudblood," he grunted. She was heavy for how small she appeared. Her dead weight became too much for him, and he slowly—though he didn't know why he didn't just throw her across the flood—lowered her to the ground.

"Blimey," he muttered as he took in her appearance. Her eyes were wide, glassy, much like a mud-colored gem. "What can I do with you?"

The book she'd been holding when he cast the charm lay a few feet away from them. He noticed it was another Ancient Runes text. Merlin, what was her sudden fascination with the subject? He knew she took the class, but why was she in the Room of Hidden Things in search of a different one if she already had a perfectly adequate book of reference?

Whatever, that didn't matter. What did matter was waking the witch and deciding what to do with her.

"Granger," he said, gruffly shaking her shoulder. "Granger, wake up. Wake up."

She made no response.

"Dammit. Rennervate."

Granger's eyes fluttered open, and it took her a few seconds to regain her bearings before she took any notice to him.

"Who are you?"

A/N: No, he didn't erase her WHOLE memory. Trust me. The next chapter will be up soon. Please review, thanks.