Written By: Summer Carlisle

Disclaimer: Although I doubt these disclaimers make any difference, it can't hurt. I own only the new plot ideas seen here, not the characters or place names or anything else.

Setting: Seventh year, HBP&DH not relevant here

Rating: T

Genre: Angsty romancey drama

Warnings: Language/violence/sexual situations

Note: This story previously had 16 really short, really poorly written chapters from 2005-2007. Trust me, they were terrible. I am re-writing everything to make this story much better, though the basic plot will be the same. Don't look at the reviews if you don't want to be spoiled.

Chapter One

"Mudblood," Draco Malfoy said to Hermione Granger in way of greeting.

"Malfoy," she said icily. Thanks to being Head Boy and Girl, they were often forced into each other's presence. It was the first day of term and Hermione had been sitting in the heads' common room reading a book, simply for pleasure seeing as she had already finished all of her new seventh year textbooks. She was quite enjoying her favorite pastime and did not appreciate the likes of Malfoy interrupting it. She glared up at him. "What do you want?"

Malfoy glowered down at her but refrained from saying what he really wanted to; he had already had gained two death threats on Hermione's behalf just for having to share a living space with her. Damn Potter and Weasel. Hermione, however, having been rendered harmless by Malfoy's fellow Slytherins, had received no such threats.

"Dumbledore wants us to meet him in his office. Now," he said emotionlessly. In fact, the only emotions Hermione ever saw him show were anger, arrogance and spite.

"Fine," she replied, snapping her book shut. They walked in total silence, pretending not to be walking together, to the Headmaster's office.

"Ice mice," said Malfoy impatiently. The stone gargoyle jumped aside and the two of them ascended the spiral staircase. Hermione knocked on the door and they were let in a moment later.

"Nice evening, isn't it? Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, do have a seat," Dumbledore said kindly, motioning toward two chairs in front of his desk. Professor Dumbledore's office was filled with instruments that even Hermione could not identify. "I am here simply to ask that the two of you, knowing your history, behave civilly to each other and everyone else at all times. I know this may prove difficult, but as I have informed all of the teachers, if you are caught being anything but civil, both of you will be reprimanded in one way or another. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Hermione replied obediently.

"Yes, sir," Malfoy replied grudgingly after a moment or two.

"Very good, off to bed you two, classes start tomorrow." The heads left the office, again pretending not to be together, and made their way back to their common room.

"Civil, my arse," muttered Malfoy as soon as their portrait hole shut behind them.

"Malfoy, I am no happier than you are to be in this situation, but I think Professor Dumbledore has a point. It wouldn't show very good inter-house relationships if we-" he cut her off.

"Don't tell me you believe the crap the Sorting Hat has been going on about for years? Inter-house relationships—what's the point? Plus, I doubt you mind this arrangement as much as you pretend to," he said with a signature Malfoy smirk.

"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" she questioned defensively.

"It so happens that I know for a fact that every female in Hogwarts wishes she could cohabitate with me."

"Wow every female, huh? What about Madam Pince? I'll just ask her tomorrow and see how hot she is for you. You arrogant, self-absorbed little-"

"It is true that you hardly count as a female anyway, being a mudblood and all. I'll play nice with you in front of that old codger, but don't expect to be best friends," he hissed at her.

"Oh what a disappointment that is, since I'm just a poor little mudblood longing to cohabitate with you," she replied, beginning to walk away.

"Watch what you wish for," he said coolly, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

"What is that supposed to mean? I didn't wish for anything," she snapped, turning toward him again. He didn't reply and before she could question him further, he went off into his dormitory, the door closing silently.

"I think they're cute together," said Hermione one beautiful mid-September day at during lunch break.

"I don't," Ron grumbled.

"Come on, Ron. Ginny could do so much worse than Harry. She could be dating Malfoy."

"Why would she do that? Malfoy is an evil git. Who would want to date him anyway?" Ron was defensive already, but Hermione hardly noticed.

"You mean besides girls like Parkinson?" Hermione said distractedly. Malfoy had completely avoided her whenever possible since the first day of school. Not that she wanted his company more often than during Prefect meetings and the few classes they had together, or at all for that matter, but it was odd. Usually Malfoy went out of his way to be near her, to torment her. Perhaps he had listened to Dumbledore. Now, as she looked over at the Slytherin table, she didn't even see him there. There had to be something going on. Knowing him, and how he had at least one thing in common with Ron, he hardly ever missed a meal. Her natural curiosity taking advantage of her, Hermione made an excuse of having a minor headache to leave the Great Hall. She hurried back to their common room to see if Malfoy was there.

Sure enough, she found him stretched out on the couch, sound asleep. She had wondered whether or not he had been sleeping at all recently. She never saw him come into the dorms, or leave them. He always seemed to be out somewhere. Up until today, she hadn't really cared, but now she wanted to know why he hadn't been around.

"Malfoy," she said, being none too careful about dropping her book bag very loudly on the floor right next to him.

"What?" he groaned sleepily.

"Why are you sleeping?" she asked, staring down at him with her hands on her hips.

"Sleeping is something a person does when they are tired, typically for several hours. Every. Day," he replied before stuffing his head under a cushion.

"It's noon, did you even go to your class this morning?"

"Why do you care?" he asked her, sitting up grudgingly.

"You've been acting strangely lately, and I was just wondering why."

"Like that's any of your business, mudblood, as sweet of you as it is to notice my behavior. Now, carry on your merry little way and let me be," he said before rolling over and putting the cushion back over his head.

"Why don't you sleep in your bed?"

"Why don't you shut the hell up?"

Hermione glared at him, wishing she could glare straight through the pillows and then on through his head, before stomping up the stairs to her dormitory.

Last time I try to be nice to him, she thought. Pointless to be curious about what's wrong with him anyway.

She took her things out of her bag to begin the four sheets of Transfiguration analysis that was due next week, sighing loudly.

But what is wrong with him?