(A/N): As much as I want to make this fic as factual as possible, for the storyline, I can't do exactly that. This takes place after the war, where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco are all back at Hogwarts for their seventh year. Sadly, I don't know too many of the people in the year below them, so their peers will all be the same as well, but Ginny is in their year. Sorry if that's a bit confusing, but for the plot's sake, the war has to have already happened. I am changing the fact that Fred died, because Fred and George are honestly two of the best characters and I love them both together. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One : Sexy, Intolerable Ferret

Intolerable. Ferret. Prick.

Those were three of the words that came to mind when someone said "Draco Malfoy." There were others, too; worse ones, but those three words were the ones she would most often say to him. If anything. Normally, she chose the route of ignoring the git, until he called her a mudblood. Then, she would spit out some witty comeback, including the fact that he was an evil little ferret that had no real friends and was destined to live in the shadow of a greater man his whole life. Maybe that man was more of a snake, really, but he got her point. But now that Voldemort was dead, and his father was locked away with the other death eaters, he acted visibly different already.

Two weeks before Hogwarts was due to begin again, the empty house a few blocks away had a moving truck in front of it. Ron was visiting for a week before they went to the Burrow, so that they could have some alone time. He had agreed to wait until they were done with school, or nearly done, so that it wouldn't affect her studies. But they could do whatever they wanted in the summer, and at this point in time, they were taking a walk. Malfoy had been in the driveway with his mother, helping her carry in boxes. He'd seen the couple first; holding hands, Ron kissing her on the cheek, her giggling at absolutely nothing. As soon as she looked in his direction, his back turned, practically running inside. Hermione elbowed Ron, motioning over. "What's that git doing here?" he'd muttered, tightening his arm around her waist. She had shrugged, leaning into him.

And so she started going on more walks down that street. Ron had slept till noon one day, so she went early in the morning before the sun had even risen. That time, Malfoy was sitting outside with his hand, both hands making a fist on each end, like he was about to break it. As soon as he saw her, he threw it behind him, nodding, like he was greeting her. Hermione nodded back, eyes flicking between him and the road in front of her.

Now she had no idea what three words to use when talking about him. Confusing could be one of them. Possibly a suck up? And a bit of a player, if that part of his life hadn't changed too much.

She was about to add Head Boy to the list too, apparently.

She was waiting in the cabin where the prefects were due to meet later, waiting for the Head Boy. Malfoy knocked on the glass door, sliding it open and stepping inside. "I'm not surprised, Granger."

He sits himself down lazily in the seat next to her. She skip a beat, shocked that he wouldn't sit as far away from her as possible. Instead, he drapes his arm around the back of her seat, not touching her but still making even closer contact. "You're Head Boy?"

"Why so shocked?" he grins, running his other hand through his hair. It's not slicked over, like it had been before. It's more fluffy and messy, in a rugged and sexy kind of way. And as disgusted as she was with herself for thinking of him as anything but horrible, let alone sexy, she was too distracted to think of anything else.

"Only because we've both ditched the last year," she shrugs, finally answering his question.

"Yeah, but you've been off doing good things. I, on the other hand . . . not so much."

"Right, well… we need to go over schedules." He nods, looking at the papers in front of her. "So maybe we should just do it randomly, and once we get everyone's schedules for quidditch and other extracurricular activities, we can create a schedule beyond that."

"Sounds good to me," Malfoy says. They take the time slots they want for themselves first, then fill in the spots for others. She schedules Ron for all the same times, not really caring about the others and letting Malfoy have most of the say.

"We still have ten more minutes till the meeting starts," she says, looking up at the clock hung from the wall.

"I can read clocks, Granger," he reminds her. His knees are spread, long legs straightening out under the round table.

"So you moved," she comments. He nods. "Why?"

He looks over at her, taking his arm away. "That's a bit of a personal question."

"I'm sorry, I was just wondering. It's a muggle neighborhood. I should know."

"I wanted to be away from my father," he says. There's obviously more to it, but I have no right to make him tell me.

"You're not like him, you know. I can tell you aren't."

"How could you tell that?"

Hermione clasps her hands together. "You aren't evil. I can just tell."

Before he can say anything more, Ron arrives. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?" he spits.

"Don't get so fresh with me, Weasel, unless you want points deducted so soon. I'm Head Boy."

Ron looks at her for confirmation, and she nods. "Right, well, I'm here early for the meeting. What's my schedule like?" He sits on the other side of her, pulling her closer and putting his arm around her waist, glaring at Malfoy when he thinks she's not looking.

"I scheduled us for all the same times, I hope you don't mind spending more time with me," Hermione teases.

"'Course not," he laughs, kissing her cheek.

"Get a room, you two," Malfoy groans, crossing his arms.

"We did, you're just in it," Ron snaps, not even looking into him. He starts leaving kisses down her neck, and Hermione moves away from him.

"Knock it off, children. Just act like you don't hate each other for a few more minutes."

"That's impossible," they say in unison, looking away from each other. She groans, putting her head down on the table, muttering something about their immaturity and how fun of a year this will be.