Reviews! I got reviews! WOOOO! An extra large merci to Ellesmere and halfbloodprincess21 for giving me the first reviews for the story! Thank you both SO much! It means a lot! I've not written enough yet to be blase about reviews...I still get super excited and that makes the two of you my best friends today :) And thanks to nkshamma, jamielouise, Athena'sChild, MissMischief96, and irishgirl686 as well. Putting this on story alerts (or favorites, MissMischief) is just as encouraging as reviews :)

A/N: Okay, so I think maybe my Malfoy might be more than a little OOC-and I apologize profusely to anyone who hates OOC. I actually tend to be that way myself, and yet here I am writing it. But I swear I tried to tone it down. He was having none of it, though. My characters already have the run of the story...so, as he commanded, he's way OOC with bits of normal Draco.

Disclaimer: You ever wonder if authors play around with fics? Like maybe putting two characters together who never really get together (like I'm doing now) or re-writing a chapter that would change the entire outcome? Or maybe playing around with other authors' stories? I wonder sometimes. I could be an author. But I'm not...all this belongs to J.K.

By the time Potions was over, Hermione was actually in a good mood. Usually the class had the opposite effect on her. Today, however, Snape ignored her, and she could concentrate on her work that much easier.

Of course, he was still ignoring her by the time she and Malfoy finished their Calming Draught, and Malfoy had received the credit (she'd barely gotten a nod), but even that didn't bother her. And sure, when she walked out of the room, Ron was glowering and Harry looked as if he'd just swallowed a bug, but that couldn't dampen her spirits either.

"Ha! Take that, Snape," she thought triumphantly.

She needed to get a book for the essay Snape had assigned, so she ran by the library before Transfiguration.

As she neared McGonagall's classroom, she could hear a flurry of excited whispers. Evidently there was big gossip afoot.

The room abruptly fell silent as her fellow Gryffindors took notice of her.

Her brows furrowed. She was the gossip topic? What was this? She saw Ron next to Harry, still glaring. Ah…it was the Ron-Hermione-Lavender drama. Wonder what wild concoction everybody is passing around, she thought.

She moved through the quiet room, taking her customary seat beside her friends. They were both sitting stiffly.

"What were you thinking?" Harry demanded.

"What…what do you mean?" she asked, taken aback at the vehemence in his voice.

"You know bloody well what he means," Ron said through gritted teeth. "Malfoy."

She stared at him in confusion, then burst out laughing. "So is that what everyone is talking about? Malfoy?"

"Well, yeah, Hermione, it is! What were you doing with him?" the redhead exploded.

"Ron, relax," she explained patiently. "He asked me for help in Charms, and for payment he's my Potions partner so that Snape leaves me alone."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry said. "That's not too believable."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And since when was the truth ever very believable for us?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, clearly not wanting the confrontation.

"Things are always weird with us," Hermione continued.

"Not Malfoy," Ron sneered. "Malfoy is always a git."

She sighed, not wanting to fight with her friends. "Yes, but he's a git that came to me for help."

"So? Why should you help him? He's always been an ass to you! Let him fail!"

"Hermione, did you stop to think that maybe he's only pretending to need help so he can hurt you?" Harry asked softly.

She avoided their questions—it sounded too much like her own thoughts, and she didn't have any answers yet. Instead she appealed to their long friendship.

"Come on, guys, can't you trust me? When have I ever done something stupid?"

Neither of them looked convinced.

"It's Malfoy," Ron repeated stubbornly.

"So what?" she flared at him. "He asked for help! I'm helping him!"

"Why, hello, Hermione," Lavender said sweetly as she and Parvati slipped into the seats in front of them. "We just heard some rather alarming news about you."

Hermione groaned. "If it's about me and Ron, I don't want to know. If it's about me and Malfoy, I really don't want to know."

"But Hermione," Parvati simpered. "Aren't you always setting us straight on gossip?"

"And now it's about you and you don't even want to hear it?" Lavender added innocently.

"Oh, alright," Hermione huffed. "What did you hear?"

They giggled. "Well, we heard some fourth years out in the hall saying how you've got some scheme involving Draco Malfoy to make Ron jealous."

"They said WHAT?"

"Miss Granger, please do not yell in my classroom," Professor McGonagall said crisply as she swept into the room. "Unless it was your intention to make sure the merfolk could hear you?"

Hermione squeaked, blushing furiously. It had been ages since she'd been reprimanded by McGonagall—or any professor besides Snape.

"Sorry, Professor," she said meekly. "I'll be quieter."

"See that you do," McGonagall replied, continuing to the front of the room.

Lavender and Parvati were giggling again. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pair and leaned forward to whisper scornfully. "Ron is my friend! I am not scheming to make him jealous! And I am helping Malfoy with Charms! That is all there is to it!"

"Wow," Lavender whispered back. "You sure are protesting a lot. Didn't Shakespeare say something about that?"

Hermione sat back, scowling at the other girl's back. She was beginning to suspect she knew exactly where that rumor started.

Suddenly she found she was furious, and she twisted to face her friends.

"Well? What are you two going to believe?"

They hesitated, avoiding her burning gaze.

"Fine," she snarled, snatching up her things. "I'll just go scheme then."

Seeing red, she stalked to the front of the room, ignoring Harry when he called her name.

She was still seething by the end of the class, so she deliberately waited until everyone else left before getting out of her seat.

They ambushed her outside the door.

She stopped and crossed her arms, glaring angrily.

"Look, Hermione, we're worried about you," Harry began.

"Oh? Well, don't be. I can take care of myself," she said, pushing past them.

"It won't work, you know," Ron said unemotionally.

She froze, slowly turning to face him. "What won't work?"

He didn't answer. She stepped closer, barely holding her rage in check. "I think your head needs to be deflated," she said dangerously. "Between being the new Quidditch champion and getting a new girlfriend, you're starting to believe every girl is panting after you. Trust me, there are some of us who still have our senses."

He gaped at her, ears turning red. Before he could say anything, though, she'd stormed away.

Instead of going to lunch, she let Crookshanks follow her out to the lake, where she settled beneath a shady oak with a book. After a few minutes of prowling, he stretched out beside her, purring contentedly.

When a pair of shoes stopped in front of her, she'd calmed down but still wasn't ready to forgive them yet.

"What do you want?" she asked brusquely, looking up. "Oh. You. Go away."

"Well, now, Granger, I must say it's a surprise to see you out here," Malfoy drawled.

"I'm trying to not be predictable," she replied.

He smirked. "I see. Well, next time you should try the dungeons."

"I'm trying unpredictable, Malfoy, not suicidal."

He grinned and sat a few feet away, chuckling softly.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm sitting."

"Didn't I tell you to go away?"

"Why would I listen to you?"

"Because I am in a very bad mood and am not above hexing anyone within striking distance."

"Wow, Granger, that sounded like a threat."

"That's because it was a threat."

He was quiet for a second, contemplating. His gaze fell on Crookshanks.

"Nice cat, Granger," he said wryly.

"Thank you," she sniffed. "Now please go away. I'm trying to read."

"Out here, all alone?"

"Yes," she said airily. "I prefer the company of my cat and a book. They're dependable and they trust me and they never betray me."

She looked at her cat fondly as she finished. He stretched and, as if to prove her wrong, strolled over to Malfoy and settled in his lap, where he gave her an arrogant look before closing his eyes.

Malfoy looked shocked, then grinned smugly.

"You were saying?"

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy."

He leaned forward, careful not to jostle Crookshanks. "Look, Granger, I've heard the rumors. The Weasel is shagging Brown and the rest of the school thinks you're using me to make him jealous. I wanted to tell you—" the rest of his sentence was drowned out by her sudden realization.

"Oh, no. You're going to try and cheer me up, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, that's the general idea. So, I was—"

"Stop," she said, holding up a hand. "Just stop. I don't need you to make me feel better."

"But you—"

"Malfoy! Just go away! Please?"

Oh, this was not happening. She was not about to have an emotional breakdown in front of Malfoy. Malfoy, of all people!

But he was looking at her so earnestly, almost like he understood. It was the first time all day that someone had looked at her without judgement, and she felt the tears welling up.

"Granger," he began, almost kindly, and she promptly burst into tears.

"I just can't believe my best friends won't listen to me!" she wailed. "It's not like you're Voldemort! But no, they'd rather believe her over me! I can't even help someone without them finding a bloody motive! And my cat deserted me for you!"

She paused for breath, and started laughing when she saw his alarmed face.

"Oh, surely you're used to emotional women by now, Malfoy."

"Granger, my boggart is a woman crying and crying and she won't bloody stop crying!"

She stared at him, then laughed shortly. "No, it's not. Yours is your dad. I remember from Lupin's class."

"Merlin, Granger, do you forget anything?" She blushed guiltily. "That was three years ago; my dad isn't the scariest thing in my life anymore."

"So let me get this straight. An upset girl is scarier than your dad?"

"Yep. That's right."

"That makes no sense at all. You know that, right?"

"Well now, I guess that makes me a puzzle," he drawled.

"That's nice," she told him as she picked her book up, missing his look of total astonishment.

"Don't you want to solve the puzzle, Granger?" he asked, his voice a decibel lower. She glanced up, brow furrowing but not knowing what was different.

"Umm…no, not really," she said absently, frowning at her book. A second later she looked up in alarm as she heard a choked sound.

"Malfoy, if you're dying, please go elsewhere. I don't want the blame."

He looked hurt. "Aw, come on, Granger, I've always heard you enjoy a challenge."

"Yeah?"

"So…think of me as a challenge," he said, giving her a dazzling smile.

"Oh my God. Malfoy, are you…are you hitting on me?"

"Well, yes, Granger, I am," he purred confidently. "It took you long enough to catch on."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Malfoy, you…you have lost your mind."

He looked annoyed. "Granger, I'm serious."

She stood. "You're mad! No, don't say anything. This is where we stand: I am not scheming for Ron, and I did not have a breakdown in your presence. And you definitely did not just hit on me!"

She picked up Crookshanks and started walking back to the castle. "And you are not ever touching my cat again," she threw over her shoulder.

"Traitor," he heard her say to the cat before she disappeared from sight.