Hey guys, it's me. I know I shouldn't be writing a new story what with my other one still not done, but my computer crashed and I lost everything I wrote for While Invading Your Dreams on the second part. I'm pretty upset and I just got too lazy to rewrite all of it. Let me tell you, there was a whole lot. Anyway, please give this a chance. I know it's starting off pretty slow, but I think the next chapter will have some promise. Stick with me until then, at least.

Neville had no problem admitting that he was a clumsy person as it was more than true. He proved it every day without ever failing to disappoint anyone's expectations. One day he would accidentally run into someone in the hallway causing them to both to drop all their things and the next day he would get stuck in the trick stair. After that he would head off to the Gryffindor common room and try to find relief through his friends, only to find that he had forgotten the password once again. The worst place to be around him though, was Potions. Professor Slughorn wasn't as bad as Professor Snape had been, not nearly so. After Snape died, his fear had lessened, but every time Slughorn walked by, the sound of his old Potions professor yelling at him would ring through Neville's ears, making him shiver. Not to say that Snape's death wasn't a tragedy met with much grieving in the end, but being scared of a person made it slightly harder to be sad about their passing.

So that was why, there, in the Potions classroom, he felt so jittery. He nearly dropped every vial he tried to turn in each class. His clumsiness reached a point to where Hermione Granger was assigned to him as a permanent partner. They were friends and so it wasn't a problem, but he did start to worry about Hermione's grades.

"I make an entirely separate batch from you, Neville. You don't have to worry about my marks in the slightest," she would always comfort. "I'm only keeping track of what you do."

"But what if I accidentally catch fire or something? What if do something wrong with my potion, try to test it out and something goes horribly wrong?" Neville would counter, "You'll rush away from your potion and you might ruin it!"

"I'll rush away for a moment to call Professor Slughorn. Nothing drastic would happen between the span of a few seconds on most mixtures. Stop worrying. I'll catch you before you do something wrong."

Neville decided to count that moment as one of the only times Hermione would be wrong in her life—and she had been only part wrong. Nothing had happened to her potion; it was perfect and received full marks. She had even caught him doing something that wasn't in the directions. Only too late. He'd mistakenly added one entirely different ingredient to the mixture, changing to a bright red when it when it was supposed to be pale blue.

"What was the last thing you added?" Hermione inquired worriedly. It only made sense to worry seeing as Neville was as good at blowing things up as Seamus. It was highly likely that his cauldron could explode.

"Well, I went to the cupboard to grab some Ashwinder eggs for the Amortentia that we're making. I put it in, and when I waited for it to turn from dark blue to pale, it went red."

"Are you sure that it was Ashwinder eggs that you added, then? I know everything was fine up until that point." Hermione stirred her cauldron a bit, added one last thing into her love potion, stirred some more, and took large whiff of the spiraling smoke clouds wafting up from the mixture. She dipped a vial inside and took a sample.

"I'm pretty sure. The sticker on the container did say—Oh, no. I think I might have mixed it up with Runespoor eggs."

"Where did you get those?" Hermione blanched. "They're only sold on the black market. If anyone finds out that you have it, you could get in serious trouble."

Neville was starting to panic. It wasn't as though he meant to pick them up and use them. He hadn't even realized they were the wrong ones until a moment ago.

"Is there anything the matter, Miss Granger? Mr. Longbottom?" Slughorn asked, suspiciously.

"Yes, Sir. You see, Neville accidentally grabbed the wrong sort of eggs. Runespoor," she whispered the last word as if it were the name of the Dark Lord.

Their professor was at a loss for words. He was obviously wondering how in the world they knew about his illegal eggs. Harry had once said that Slughorn was the sort to do whatever it took to get that extra knut and this was probably another one of those times. "But—I don't—How can—Where did you find it?" he finally sputtered after a full half minute of blank staring.

"With all do respect, Sir, I think we should dispose of this potion before anything bad happens. We don't know what might occur if we leave it out for too long," Hermione suggested. "I think I'm going to hand in my work now."

"Alright Miss Granger—Yes, why don't we—That's what we'll do. Young man," he started, "just dump it in the waste bucket over in that corner over there by my desk," he pointed to a large jar. "It's magicked to properly dispose of anything put inside. And could you not mention this to anyone? It's quite rare, the Runespoor. It's hard to get your hands on their eggs and they're worth a pretty galleon."

"Yes and thank you, Sir." He picked up the his pot and rushed over quickly, which was always a bad idea when Neville was concerned.

He tripped on the hem of his robe, the cauldron flying straight out of his hands and the concoction in it spilling all over the two people dropping their sample vials. They turned around to see who had soaked their backs so completely. There stood Hermione, horror etched on her face, right beside a livid Draco Malfoy.

Draco's wet back was starting to tingle. Whoever had been stupid enough to spill the world's strongest love potion, Amortentia, on him was going to die a slow, painful death. Especially if he fell in love with the person standing next to him who had also been drenched. He was afraid to look at that person though, in case it made his chance to fall for her—or him, he shuddered—would be greater, so he looked at behind him at the pillock who'd done this.

Neville Longbottom, of course. It would either be him, Potter, or Weasley and those two were still sitting at their desk looking apprehensively at their Potions work. He would have smirked if his murderous glare wasn't so clearly expressed already. He decided to see what the dolt had to say for himself before Draco started hexing his arse off.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I can't believe I did that."

Draco could not believe this kid's nerve. His entire back was sopping and only a small portion of Granger's side was wet. If anyone should get an apology, it should be him.

Granger. Granger was the standing beside him. Hermione Granger. Was he feeling any sort of affection toward her yet? Did he want to shout her name from the rooftops at all? No. Wasn't he supposed to? Maybe if he touched her it would work. He lifted his hand and dropped between one second and the next. He didn't want to make a fool of himself by obsessing over that chit, so why would he try to make the potion work?

"Please, Neville," she said, an edge of desperation in her tone, "tell me that wasn't your batch."

"I'm so sorry."

"What was wrong with Longbottom's batch?" Draco asked slowly, cautiously, afraid of the answer.

Hermione looked sadly at him. "He found an illegal substance inside Slughorn's extra store of ingredients and put that in instead of what we were supposed to use. Now that stuff is drenching us—but mostly you—to the bone and neither the Professor nor I know if it'll cause us any harm."

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Draco decided to react calmly. It wouldn't do his already sunk social standing in pureblood society any good if he was caught cursing someone into oblivion. Taking several large breaths, he was finally able to form a sentence in his mind that didn't have string of profanities in it. "Tell Slughorn that I'm going to see Madame Pompfrey." He left, not waiting to see if Granger followed him, but knowing that she had the sense to.

He was halfway there when he realized that she was walking directly adjacent to him. "Just to be clear, we're not going to fall in love are we?"

"Please, like I would ever love you," she replied. "Like I could ever love you."

But I don't suppose it would be too hard to be attracted to you.

Draco's eyes widened and his jaw nearly dropped before he could compose himself. He hadn't expected her to say that. She seemed the type of person who wouldn't even think of going around telling the people they hate that they could easily be attracted to them. Well, everyone was that sort of person.

"What did you say?" he asked, in case his ear heard wrong.

"I said that I could never love you."

"No, after that."

"I didn't say anything after that. Get your ears checked while we're in the Infirmary."

He eyed her suspiciously. He was quite sure he'd heard correctly, but it seemed to make more sense that she'd said nothing.

Why is that git still looking at me? His eyes are making me uncomfortable.

She hadn't moved her lips at all. She had only shot him an annoyed glance. Was he... reading her mind? Could this be a result of the faulty potion?

"Do you like my eyes?" Draco questioned, testing his new theory out.

She snorted. "They're flat, cold, and soulless, so no."

Very much. It's like swimming through molten silver.

It was at this point that he found that he couldn't stop the smirk that reached his lips. Who would have thought that this Gryffindor bookworm fancied her best friend's worst current enemy? It could definitely be useful to start inquiring her about some things that might be good for blackmail. Being clever as he was though, he knew not to just start bombarding her with personal questions. It would have to come periodically. But he was getting ahead of himself. Draco didn't even know if this was real or not yet.

"Who gave you your best kiss yet?" After the words left his mouth, he wished he could take it back. He was almost positive she would answer Weasley. It was a waste.

"None of your damn business," she glared.

Blaise Zabini.

However unbelievable it was, Draco would have to check on that later to see if it was true—which was extremely doubtful.

He would have thought further into this had it not been for the fact that they'd both finally reached the Hospital Wing. No one was there; there were just empty cots lying against the wall, Madame Pompfrey all the way in the back of the room, sitting at her desk and looking through papers. It was a fairly large room made of stone so it wasn't hard to hear the echoes of his footsteps as he approached the nurse, Granger trailing him.

"Excuse me, Madame," she began, "Malfoy and I have accidentally been hit by a defective potion. We don't know what to do or if it's dangerous in any way to our health. Is there anything you can do?"

The nurse looked up, pushed away the papers, and stood. "What can you tell me of this potion?" she asked, making her way to the two of us.

"It was supposed to be Amortentia, but Runespoor eggs were added instead of Ashwinder."

"I know little about Runespoors' eggs other than that they are known to enhance mental abilities. And they are sold unlawfully," Pompfrey gave Granger a reproachful look, she blushed and it looked like she was about to defend herself, but blushed instead.

"We don't know who put it in or how they got it, but we saw the eggshells and Granger," Draco faked an eye roll, "recognized them as Runespoor. Longbottom decided he would go and throw it out for us and he probably tripped on air or something, so it ended up getting on the two of us."

Lying was second nature to Draco; he was good enough to make anyone who knew the truth doubt themselves. There were very few people in the world who he would lie for and he could count them easily on one hand. Longbottom meant nothing to him and probably never would, so why did he lie for him? The oaf could have gotten himself in serious trouble just for holding any in his hand on school grounds. There was no downside to letting him have a few weeks worth of detention. Yet, something had told him not to. Or rather, someone. Granger had been chanting in her mind not to tell on him so that he wouldn't get in too much trouble and Draco had listened, mistaking it for his conscience. Stupid Gryffindors.

"How are you feeling then? Any headaches?" They both shook their heads. "Well, if you think that you have symptoms and they pop up, please be sure to inform me of them. For the next few hours though, I suggest you stay here so that I can keep an eye on you both."

"Madame Pompfrey, since I can't leave, could I borrow a shirt? My robes are soaked through."

Wimp. He can't even handle a little wet clothing.

Draco fought the urge to glare at her. Was it his fault that he was rich and could get whatever he wanted immediately? No. It also wasn't his fault that she was probably only slightly better off than the Weasleys and thought she had to suffer through cold, wet robes.

"Yes, just walk over to a cot, I'm sure there's something there for you on the nightstand. It's all white so there's not much selection but there are both boy's and girl's outfits. You should change as well," Pompfrey turned to Granger.

"I'm hardly wet at—"

"I won't have you getting sick in my part of the castle. Either way, you'd have to get out of any contaminated clothes and let the house elves wash them before touching them again. It's a health hazard," the older woman interrupted, and went back to sorting through papers. "You could just pull one of the curtains in front of a bed so that no one will see you changing. If you want to talk, don't be too loud. I need to concentrate."

"Alright, then."

I suppose safety should come first and I can't go off getting sick on my NEWTS year. I'm going to need all the time I can get to study. But the house elves deserve better treatment. It's immoral to hand off dirty, possibly dangerous things to them and just expect them to clean it without hurting themselves in the process. One day... With that, they both searched through nightstands close by the door. I'm not having Madame Pompfrey to watch me too closely. There's a certain level of privacy that should be kept between a student and a teacher; one requirement of that level is to be as far away as possible while changing. In that respect, Draco found that they were on the same page.

As Draco tried to wrap his head around being able to read Granger's mind, one thought kept coming back to haunt him. Was he going mad? This could all be going on just inside his head. Maybe he should have told the nurse. It couldn't hurt, could it? But then if it was true, what would Granger say? She would most likely stop talking to him and avoid him altogether; he couldn't have that. One of his favorite hobbies was arguing with her. She had such a temper!

The only shirt that he could find was so tiny that only a first year anorexic could fit into it. After performing Engorgio on it, he slipped off his Slytherin robe. In the back of his mind, he could tell that Granger was still looking for something to put on, but as he started to take off his shirt, her eyes had taken a short glance up. He almost laughed when she did a double take.

Malfoy was changing right in the open where anyone could see him. Granted, he was only switching shirts, but it was as though he was trying to show off his sculpted body. The muscles in his back worked as he raised his wet shirt above his head, revealing a pale, flawless back. Part of Hermione wanted him to turn around so that she could also see his abs. The other, more logical part was trying to force her eyes back down to the drawer so that she could find something suitable. The logical side won.

"You having trouble, Granger?"

"Not at all, Malfoy," she countered, at the same moment, realizing that there was a problem. Every article of clothing was tiny. She looked at the top held in her hand uneasily.

"I'll give you a hint, you're a witch," Malfoy drawled. "You can make it fit."

Admitting to Malfoy that she had forgotten, once again, all about her magical abilities was absolutely out of the question. She wasn't going to make it easier to make fun of her and this would only add to his mudblood ammunition. Even after all these years, even after the war, it still stung to be called that. It still felt just as degrading and sometimes, if said when she was too stressed or her day was already really bad, she would start to tear up. The tears would never travel farther than her lower eyelashes though, because Hermione refused to let anyone reduce her to that.

For some unknown reason, what looked like regret flashed across Malfoy's face. It disappeared abruptly but there was no uncertainty that it had showed.

"Of course I know that I can grow it," with a huff, Hermione threw the curtain around the circle of the bed, making sure that no one would be able to peek through namely Malfoy. She wouldn't put it past him. "Engorgio," she said, letting it grow to a nice appropriate size.

Hermione lifted her shirt out off her chest and through her neck, redressing in replacement clothing leisurely. It would be a while before she could leave so she might as well take her time. She pushed the curtain back into place when she finished and turned back around and sat down on the uncomfortable bed. Malfoy was looking at her, an amused smirk gracing his lips and looking at his intense gaze, she could see that his eyes seemed darker than before.

"What are you staring at?" she shot at him.

He ignored her. "You know, I bet if you tried making your wardrobe something not entirely atrocious, then you would actually look fairly decent. You hair is better too since it calmed down from the haystack that it used to be."

Hermione nearly blushed. This was the closest thing to a compliment she would likely ever get from him. "That was nice... Why are you backhandedly complimenting me?" she asked distrustfully. "You saw me through the curtain didn't you?" In the blink of an eye, she had her wand out and pressed against the base of his throat.

"Careful, darling. Madame Pompfrey can see and hear us." Hermione lowered her wand reluctantly, but was still ready to strike just in case. "And no, I did not see you through the curtain." Something about how he said it made her believe that he wasn't telling the entire story and he was holding back information. It was almost undeniably intentional.

"Let's just leave each other alone, okay? I don't want to argue with you the entire time we're here. We can just sit quietly."

"For hours? I don't think so." He turned thoughtful for a moment, "But actually, I need to get something really quick from my dorm. I don't know why I didn't think of this excuse to leave earlier. I might have been able to get one of my own shirts," he stood up.

"But Madame Pompfrey just said that you can't leave!" Hermione proclaimed, making him turn around.

"You actually think I'm going to listen to her? She won't catch me unless you tell. You wouldn't do that to me would you?" He gazed at her unblinking, his silver-blue eyes boring into hers and insisting she comply. The way his eyes seemed to melt her frustrated her to no end, but her breath nearly caught in her throat anyway. He was stepping closer to her, close enough that if Hermione reached her hands out, she'd be able to touch his chest. "Please?" he breathed.

She almost said yes, but after a quick shake of her head to fight her way back to coherency, she answered, "Stop looking at me like that. It makes it hard to think." No! Why had she said that? How stupid of her! She tried to redeem herself by saying, "Also, I won't let you go. What would you say anyway? Madame Pompfrey is a strict person. She's not going to let you out with some stupid excuse."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Where is the bathroom?"

"Outside in the hall... Oh." Hermione made a face and then she attempted to shout out to the nurse, "Madame! Mal—"

"Silencio. Petrificus Totalus." Her limbs snapped together and she landed flat on her back, straight on bed and unable to speak. "Hermione just wanted to tell you she was going to lie down for a bit. There's nothing wrong with her. She's just tired." The nurse nodded. "And I need to go to the bathroom for a bit." She nodded once more. "Thank you."

Malfoy strode out the door confidently with Hermione simmering in her anger and utter annoyance still on the cot.

Draco didn't need to go the bathroom or to his dormitory. What he wanted to do was catch Blaise before his next class. He would be quick and he wouldn't mince words. Draco knew that he didn't need to worry about his friend not telling him the truth. It was a rule of theirs not to betray the others' trust. It was a rule none of them would probably ever think of breaking.

Slytherins had Charms next with Ravenclaw. Luckily, that classroom was only five minutes away if he walked quickly.

"Zabini!" he called, just as the Italian reached the door. "Come here for a second!"

"What do you need?"

"I'm starting to worry for my sanity. I'll tell you about it later, just right now answer honestly." Draco took a deep breath and asked, "Have you ever kissed Hermione Granger?"

"Only once in fifth year. It was to get out of the stupid mistletoe thing this school has during Christmas time." In the time that it took to fully comprehend that it really had happened and he might be truly able to read Granger's mind, they were silent. Then Blaise declared, "We've got to get to Charms now before we're late. Come on."

"I'm stuck in the Hospital Wing. It was Longbottom," he explained and Blaise nodded understandingly.

Once he was back in the Infirmary, Draco made his way to Granger, sitting at the edge of the bed and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

What the hell is he trying to do? Why does he keep getting so close to me? I thought he wouldn't want to taint himself by getting too close.

"I promise to let you out of the body bind and the silencing spell if you promise not to harm me in any way or get me in any trouble. Do we have a deal?"

Damn Malfoy. Of course we have a deal. All I want is to get out this stupid bind and then sit way on the other side of the room to get away from you and your stupid close speaking habit.

"Alright, then. You can go free. Finite Incantatem." The moment the enchantment was lifted, she sprung from the bed, about to make a run for it. She was stopped though, when Draco's fingers closed around her wrist. "No, I think you should sit right beside me for a while. You can keep me entertained, I'm sure."

"Keep you entertained? What do you think I am, your own personal performer?"

"Of course not. I was thinking we could play a game."

"What sort of game?"

Draco was close to saying that it was a game to test his sanity but rather said, "It's called 'Guess What I'm Thinking'. It's rather hard to understand how to play the game, you know. I mean, the name gives away no clues at all," he joked, trying to get on her good side for the time being at least.

Her lip twitched in a way that told him she was fighting a smile. "Okay, but only because I want to see how idiotic it is."

And also because I'm afraid if I don't do something for the next few hours, I'll die of boredom.

"I'll start." He pretended to think and stated, "I bet you're thinking that you're only doing this because you might die of boredom soon."

"Well, that was an easy one," she waved it off. "Your thinking that I won't be able to guess anything right."

He nodded. "That was easy too." Actually, he was internally gloating about imagining up this ridiculous game to test his mental stability one last time.

Arrogant prick. Though I guess he does have reason to be. I mean with the way he looks?

"I'm sure you think that my ego is too big for my body to contain."

"Yeah, that's right."

That was how it went for the next thirty minutes. He came to the conclusion that he was capable of seeing into her mind. It was an amusing thought. Each time one of them got it wrong, they would be corrected. Sometimes, Granger would lie and say that she was thinking of something that was definitely not his body, or his voice, or his eyes. Occasionally, he would get things completely off so as not to draw suspicion. The only reason they stopped playing was because two concerned looking Gryffindors—namely Potter and Weasley barged dramatically into the room. How like them, Draco thought, to be so entirely cliche.

As I said before, I know it's starting off kind of slow, and I'm only just getting the plot built a smidge in this chapter, but I promise to get it going in Chapter Two. Runespoor eggs and Ashwinder eggs are actual potion ingredients. Ashwinder is actually used in Amortentia and Runespoor really is sold on the black market (in Harry Pottter, anyway) and does enhance mental abilities.

Also, I'm looking for a beta if anyone's interested. Just leave a review or message me if you want to the job. I really do hate editing my work. One last thing, if you give me enough reviews each chapter, I promise to give chapter previews. But only if I get an amount that I'm satisfied with. Yes, I know I might have a bad lying habit, but I swear I'll do it.

REVIEW, FAVORITE, STORY ALERT, OR WHATEVER FOR ME!