AN: I love writing in Draco's POV. It's so fun! X3 a lot of swearing in this chapter. BEWARE OF DRACO'S POTTY MOUTH! BEWAREBEWAREBEWAREBEWAREBE- *shot*

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, J.K. Rowling does. I also do not own Francis Bonnefoy, he belongs to the creator of Hetalia. I'm sorry if I got the French wrong, I used Google Translate. Please correct me if I'm wrong! I know at least one of my readers is from France!

Chapter 2

(Draco POV)

Our teeth clacked together painfully, and my tongue (weather purposely, or accidentally, I'm still not sure) invaded her mouth. Our eyes widened, and she pushed me away. I saw her face become redder than it already was, and she looked away. She shoved all of her stuff into her bag, and left me standing there, dumbstruck, with a pen and five minutes of class left to go.

What. The. Bloody. Hell. Just. Happened? Did I- I just… did I just kiss… no. No. I didn't kiss her. Not on purpose at least. I turned around stiffly, facing that bloody French guy Francis, who had the audacity to smirk at me. Smirk!

"You… you IDIOT! What the fuck was that? Why did you do that? WHY?" I growled, my wand instantly between his eyes, hideous curses and jinxes running through my mind, almost always coming back to Avada Kedavra. Maybe I should just kill him and be done with it. It would save the world a lot of trouble.

"There eez lots of unresolved sexual tension between you two, non? So I thought I should just repandre l'amour (spread the love)." Francis said simply, unafraid of the wand pointing at his forehead.

I swear my eye twitched. "Repandre… l'amour… sexual tension… what? Okay, let's get this straight; you think there's sexual tension between me and bloody GRANGER? And you want to spread the love? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I roared. "Give me two good reasons why I shouldn't murder you, right now."

I guess Flitwick had to choose right now to walk in, back from the mishap in the transfiguration department. "Mr. Malfoy! What are you doing? Put your wand away this instant and fifty points from Slytherin house." The small professor squeaked.

Still glaring at Bonnefoy, I sheathed my wand and stiffly sat down. I slowly put my hands on the desk, when my fingers brushed against a round object. My glare faltered and I looked down at the object. It was Granger's pen. I picked it up, and not caring who saw, pocketed it as the bell rang. It wasn't as if she wanted it back, right? I slowly gathered all of my stuff, and I made my way down to the great hall for dinner.

(Hermione POV)

Oh. My. Gosh. That did not just happen. Did it? I raced through the halls, darting through tapestries, and up stairs, all the way towards the Room of Requirement. I sighed as I reached the hallway, which was badly burned. Did it really work after… after… that? I sighed, and I thought might as well try. What could happen? I walked three times in front of the stretch of wall, thinking 'I need a place to hide, to think… I need to just get away from it all.'Upon my third passing, to my relief, a door appeared.

My hand was on the knob when I hesitated- what if I found something ghastly, like Crabbe's scorched remains, or nothing but ashes? What if the whole thing collapsed and- wait, Hermione, stop it. That's not going to happen, and everything will be just fine.

I set my jaw, and I confidently opened the door. What I saw was… perfect. A sanctuary, a freshly mown grass clearing with the smell I loved so much, along with piles of books stacked everywhere, and bookcases surrounding me.

It wasn't just a perfect study, and a getaway, oh no, it was more than that. It was a sanctuary. My personal haven. Paradise. And nobody needed to know about this.

I walked in, jaw slack with wonder. I guess I could skip dinner… No. I could come back here after dinner, but nobody would question if I brought a book. I skimmed the titles, but I came back to one. It was called 'Blood: Is it Important?' by P. H. M. Blood. It looked… interesting… so I picked it up, and carried it down to the Great Hall, but not before mentally telling the door not to open for anybody except for me, Hermione Jean Granger. It couldn't hurt to be specific, right?

AN: sorry this is so short, i kind of stopped writing this near the ending of hermione's POV, soo... yeah. P. H. M. Blood stands for Pure, Half, and Muggle. Or Mud, but whatever. That's not the author's real name, I just needed something like that. X3 See you next chapter! Oh, by the way, i just made that book up. Yeah...