Hermione was done with her essay by nine fifteen, with Draco following shortly after at nine thirty.
Two and a half hours left to go. The silence was, as cliché as it sounded, deafening. It continued until nine forty-five. Then the glaring began.
"Really, Granger, please stop staring at me. As flattering as it would be coming from anyone else, you're a mudblood and honestly it's a little pathetic, not to mention it's making me quite ill. I mean I understand, I am quite good looking. Still, please take your filthy eyes away from me."
"You know Malfoy, a look goes both ways. You wouldn't even know what direction I was looking in unless you, too, were looking my way. It is a free country, so I suggest that if you don't want to look at me, then don't. It's that simple, can you understand that? Besides, I'm even surprised that my being a 'mudblood' and all hasn't already blinded you by looking in my general direction, let alone being in the same room with me."
"Do you think you're funny, Granger? Mocking me?"
She twirled a piece of hair, acting as though she was considering the question.
"Actually, Malfoy, no. I never really thought about it before. Mocking you has always come naturally. Never meant to be funny."
He had to admit, she was good. She knew just what to say to push his buttons.
'Damn mudblood.' he thought.
She began doodling on her extra piece of parchment, and he just sat there. By now it was ten o'clock. As time ticked by he began to look her way. Finding it hard to look away. He had to admit she was painfully beautiful.
That's when it truly began.
He knew that nothing would be the same again.
Hermione noticed his blatant staring, and had begun to get somewhat uncomfortable.
"You know Malfoy, you really shouldn't stare like that, women like a man who knows how to be subtle."
He hadn't realized she knew he was watching her.
"Really Granger? How do you know?"
"Believe me Malfoy, I know. Women don't like to be gawked at, and you staring at me like you have been for the last ten minutes does in fact constitute as gawking."
He was shocked by her blatant honesty. Not many people in general were honest with him being who he was and what family he belonged to. They more or less catered to his every need, often telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. She was different. He had always known that.
"You know, I like a girl who can speak her mind. How did you come to be that way? I always pictured you as more of the brown nosed type."
She knew he was challenging her. She also knew to stand her ground and stay guarded with him; to an extent.
'He would love a rise from me, wouldn't he? 'I like a girl who can speak her mind.' What the hell is that supposed to mean? Was it a complement?' She was having this inner battle with herself, unaware that he wanted a response.
She didn't answer.
"Look," he offered, "I'm not trying to pick a fight here. My point is simply that you speak your mind. Most people don't do that to me. I like it. Besides, I'm not exactly sure how we even got on this subject, or why we're even talking. Even getting along somewhat for that matter. But… from this point on, I promise…to try. All I'm trying to say is that I'm surprised." he paused. "Truce?"
She stared at him before finally releasing her breath. Maybe he was right. No, she knew he was right. They were Heads, and he was trying here. And, she admitted, she'd been the one who escalated the whole thing. Muddled thoughts can do that to a person. What on earth was she getting herself into?
"Truce," she finally answered. "On one condition."
"What's that?"
"We keep it a secret."
He looked relieved. "I can do that."
She knew she shouldn't have agreed. She knew one day this would all come back to haunt her, but right now she really didn't care. She wanted to know him. And the first time their eyes met over two hours ago, she knew it was over. Nothing would ever be the same.