A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

Chapter Three: It's Witchcraft

Draco kicked the nearest chair and it shattered against the blacken hearth. He caught sight of his reflection in the elaborate full-length mirror and for the first time in his life he was utterly disgusted with himself. Sure, what he'd just said to Hermione wasn't one of his proudest moments, but that was nothing compared to what he'd just realized. If she hadn't put him under some sort of spell, and from the look of pure agony on her face she obviously hadn't, it meant that the feelings he felt for her were completely authentic.

After letting out a feral yell, he left the room. Pacing in front of it once more, he reentered the transformed room and set to work. He was quite happy to have something to take his mind off what had just happened in the very same space.

* * * *

Hermione didn't immediately return to the Quidditch match. As much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't stop the tears from escaping her brown eyes. But why should she care what Malfoy said? He'd probably just said it to get her to keep silent about him skipping the match anyway. It wasn't like him to pass up a chance to insult her, and he always seemed to know how to hurt her the most.

She inhaled deeply and wiped her wet cheeks. If she didn't go back soon, Zofia was liable to send a search party for her. A few people gave her funny looks as she swam her way through the crowd, but most just complained that she was in their way of the match. But she knew that Zofia wouldn't just look at her. "Hermione! What happened?" Zofia yelled over the din of the crowd as soon as Hermione reached her side.

"Let's just say I now know that Malfoy doesn't want to hurt me. Not physically, at least," she added in a tone that said she didn't want to talk about it.

"I was afraid you'd run into him. Just as you left the wanker who's announcing said that Malfoy wasn't seeking today," she explained, "said he was sick."

"He looked pretty healthy to me." Now Harry's ranting didn't sound so crazy, he really was up to something.

* * * *

"So, what happened?" Zofia questioned in the library the following day.

"He just pulled me into the room and accused me of giving him a love potion. That's all," Hermione explained noncommittally.

"Oh, so that's why your eyes were red," she reasoned sarcastically.

"Well, it was just the way he accused me. He always knows how to get under my skin," she relished as she skimmed over the page of her textbook. Not only had he gotten under her skin, he was starting to get in the way of her schoolwork. It was ironic how he'd deeply complimented and deeply insulted her in the same breath. "Why can't I concentrate?" she growled to herself.

"Why do you think he accused you of giving him a love potion?" Zofia ventured pointedly.

Hermione shrugged in a pitiful attempt at evading the inquiry, but one look at her friend told her that it was unavailing. She leaned across the table so no one could overhear. "He said he couldn't stop thinking about me," she revealed.

"That would explain the staring and stalking," Zofia rationalized aloud.

"And he obviously means in a romantic way, otherwise…"

"He wouldn't have accused you of giving him a love potion," she finished.

The mere thought of it made Hermione shudder. "Exactly."

Zofia leaned back in her chair, slightly in awe over the strange change of events. For two weeks she, along with her new Gryffindor friends, had worried about her welfare and all Malfoy wanted to do was talk to her. Malfoy liked Hermione! Zofia had to stifle a laugh.

Over Hermione's head Zofia could see Malfoy as soon as he entered the library. They'd been sitting in there for hours and she was a little surprised that it had taken him so long to make an appearance. She didn't alert Hermione to his presence, but it wasn't long before she noticed him on her own.

"Ahg," she groaned, "Will he never give me peace?" Out the window she could see that very few students scattered the grounds. That probably meant it was quite chilly. She hoped that would hinder Malfoy from following her. She, on the other hand, could stand it. "I'm going outside," she explained as she collected her books.

Zofia could tell that she wanted to be alone. But as Malfoy followed her progress from across the room, she knew her solitude would be short lived.

* * * *

Malfoy slowly pursued the object of his involuntary affections, trying his best not to be seen. It had been quite obvious that she'd left solely for the purpose of getting away from him. Part of him had been relieved, but the other had urged him to follow. Evidently, the latter had won out. He couldn't fully explain his need to follow her, or his need to talk to her again, but an unknown force within drove him on.

He found her sitting on a rock by the lake, the chilly breeze occasionally blowing her brown waves. He stood at a distance, staring as he did often until he remembered that there was no one around and he could actually approach her.

As he neared the boulder, he intentionally broke a stick under his foot.

Hermione turned with a start. "You!" she seethed. "Can't you just desist?"

"No," he said curtly.

Her nostrils flared as she stared daggers at him. "What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

He pretended to think about it. "Normally, I'd say you were born, but I've got more important reasons at the moment."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again!" he spat venomously. "You've done something to me and I want to know what!"

"I haven't done anything, Malfoy! Why can't you accept that?" she yelled back.

"Because…" he let his words drop. He didn't really want to explain why he couldn't accept it. He just couldn't. He couldn't possibly have true feelings for her. It just wasn't natural!

"Because you want me," she mocked his words from the previous day.

"No!" he yelled with a new fervor, surprising even himself. "This is not real! It's…" his eyes widened in near insanity. "It's witchcraft!"

Even from where he stood, Draco could see a new hatred light her eyes. "Get over yourself, you arrogant bloody bastard!" she screamed. "I have not done a thing to you! If I'd do anything I'd curse you!"

His expression softened unconsciously. Again the venom in her eyes struck a chord within him. For once, he looked at her, actually looked. The eyes that had started his unfortunate infatuation were now shining with unshed tears. Whether they were tears of anger or hurt he wasn't sure. Logic leaned toward the former, but the current state of his soul almost wished for hurt.

Her clenched jaw relaxed and she shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. Maybe he'd finally come to terms. But even that was little comfort. "Don't look at me like that," she requested quietly.

"It's not witchcraft?" he tried one more time.

"No," she assured him, raising her jaw before adding, "and I'll ask that you not imply that no one could like me unless I put him under a spell."

Oh, so that's why she'd been so upset. "I, uh, unfortunately know from personal experience that that is not true." The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying.

Hermione looked down. She honestly wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or suspicious of what he'd just said. Though one look at his face told her that he had not meant to say such a thing; therefore showing the validity of his revelation. "Malfoy?" she said, pulling him out of his reverie.

"What?" he probed when she didn't say anything.

"I don't even know what to say." She shook her head. "You hate me."

Draco snorted sardonically, "Apparently not."

Hermione crossed her arms and debated over her next words. At that moment the reality of the situation had yet to sink in. "What are we going to do about this then?" she asked after a sufficient silence.

"Do?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes, do. You say you like me, so what are you going to…" her words faltered as she realized what she'd just said. For a moment she couldn't even articulate a thought. "Bloody hell, you like me!" she exclaimed and fell back onto the boulder she'd been previously sitting on. "But—But you're Malfoy, you hate me! I hate you! How could this have happened?" she was practically raving.

"I'm not too thrilled about it either," Draco defended himself as he took a tentative step toward her. He wasn't sure what he should do. She was obviously upset by this realization, but Draco doubted that anything he could say or do would make it any easier to digest.

"Now I wish it were witchcraft," she snorted. "Because then I could stop it."