Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter, although we would gladly want to if J.K.Rowling (bow to her!) gave her publishing rights away. (:

Hermione sped towards the dungeons, frowning nervously and occasionally turning to hurry the two people flanking her. It was the beginning of the semester, and unless Hermione, Ron and Harry apparated there, they were going to be late for Snape's horrible potion class. Hermione groaned in frustration, knowing that Snape would take off more points than they deserved, simply because of the fact that he was a biased loser.

"What…the…hell…is…up…with…you…Hermione!" Ron panted heavily. "I've never seen you that eager to get into Potions before! Moreover it's not any other professor, but Snape!" he emphasized this last word acidly.

"He's going to take points off Gryffindor if we don't hurry."

That silenced him.

However hard they hurried did not make a difference to maintaining Gryffindor's house points, because Snape was a biased loser after all. And he was also severely prejudiced against the Gryffindor house, particularly the trio. Ron glowered at him when they entered the Potions classroom barely a moment late. Snape was wearing that superior expression on his face.

"50 points off Gryffindor for your tardiness. Ms Granger should have set a better example and not be late for she has newly acquired a higher position of importance in the school. By right she should have set a better example and not go gallivanting around the school. For that I shall give her detention. This Saturday in my office," he drawled with a hint of triumph in his voice.

Ron was about to yell at him for being such a repulsive prick, but Harry covered his mouth hurriedly so everything came out as unintelligible grunts.

His eyes glittering maliciously, Snape proceeded to grace the unfortunate class with his venomous voice. He stalked down the row of students.

The feeling of dread in Hermione worsened as Snape traveled further down the row, pairing them up. "Potter, you had better pair with Parkinson."

"Weasley, you with Crabbe. I'm sure he can teach you something."

"Well then, with whom shall I place you, Ms Granger?" He deliberately paused a moment. Hermione's heart thumped frantically. NONONO. No way.

"Draco, you come over."

She was having the great prat for a partner! Noooo! But Hermione knew it was hopeless to argue once she glared up at Snape's nasty smile. Malfoy moved lazily up to her. She felt anger rise up in her when the trademark smirk appeared on his face. "Don't think I'm happy about this too, granger. Though I probably know the reason for your unhappiness. Think I'm too good for your mudblood self, don't you?" Fuming, it was all she could do not to lunge at him and wipe the sneer off his face.

Seeing the scene playing out before him, Snape smirked self-satisfactorily. Without an extra word, and a fluorish of his wand, he made the instructions for the lesson's potion-making appear on the whiteboard in its usual fashion. "You have 2 hours to finish this potion. All the ingredients you may need are in the cupborard. Begin."

Hermione groaned and turned in her seat to see Malfoy wearing his irksome smirk once again. Deciding that however annoying he may be, the class work would still have to be finished and she might as well get started now. "Look, Malfoy. I don't care if you are the rich stuck-up prick, which you obviously are, or not. I want to get an "O" for this assignment, and nobody will get in my way. Least of all you." Hermione growled out to the foul-smelling git in front of her. To her chagrin, his ever-present smirk not only did not falter even a little, it widened instead. Throwing up her hands in disbelief, Hermione stormed up to Snape's cupboard and started to gather the potion ingredients.

Malfoy stared after her back. He shrugged coldly. Who cares whether the mudblood got a "O"? He certainly didn't but he'd promised his parents to focus on studies this year. Bored, he flicked his wand lazily.

Hermione returned under a load of ingredients. Draco suddenly took a great interest in his nails, acting nonchalant. Hermione sighed and decided that his ways were incorrigible and set to boil the water. Oh dear. She suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to take the snake bile and scurried off to get it. After she scrabbled in the potions cupboard for a considerable amount of time, she finally found it. "Aha!" She gasped and held it up triumphantly, returning to her seat, grinning.

Upon focusing on a sight of utmost perplexity, she blinked. She blinked again. Incredulously.

She couldn't help but stare at the chopped daisy roots and the sliced caterpillar. She whirled around, expecting to see…WHAT?

Nothing. She looked baffled for a moment, and then she glanced down at the ingredients. The daisy roots had been cut evenly, near to perfect. The sliced caterpillar was cut to the ideal length.

"Did you see who did this?" She asked Malfoy. He looked confused and hurt for a fleeting second, but she shook it off.

"No." He replied calmly. " I was too busy with other more important things than collaborating with a Mudblood on a potion. "

Hermione scowled irritably at him, biting her tongue to refrain from uttering a heinous retort. She thought no more of the kind act an anonymous person had done for them, but instantaneously set to work.

Malfoy watched idly as she bustled about. His face a stone-like mask of indifference, it was impossible to know how much he was hurting inside.

Why had it been so hard for Granger to believe that it was he, and not any other person, who had dutifully sliced the ingredients? Did she really see him as such a cold-hearted person who was incapable of even the smallest bit of kindness? Still mulling over Hermione's feelings towards him, Malfoy absently picked up a knife and began mutilating the hellebore .

"Ouch!" Malfoy dropped the knife he was clutching and stared at his injured finger. So absorbed was he that he didn't even notice Hermione frowning at him over the cauldron they were sharing.

In morbid fascination, Malfoy observed the blood seeping out from his finger. It dripped slowly onto his robe in a hypnotizing lullaby. His eyes slightly glazed over, he noted that the gash there so resembled the one on his heart. He wallowed in sadness and self-pity, pondering the fact that he was indeed an evil taunting presence in Hermione's view and sorrowfully accepting the fact that she could never feel a fraction of love for him. It did not matter how much he yearned to hold her in his arms, it could never happen.

Maybe he was destined to suffer in silence.

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--the grimdementors--