Disclaimer: I don't own anything Potter-related except for my plots :)

A/N: The chapter (and a few chapters after this one) begins with a flashback. I labeled it with the date too because I might skip a few weeks between flashbacks. After the line break, it's present day. Hope it's not too confusing! Thank you to Vanilla Cookie and D. M. Lover21! You are super wonderful and I couldn't have done this without you! :)

Chapter 4 - Cold Fire

Flashback - September 2nd:

Hermione gave the password to the portrait that was blocking the entrance to her new dormitory and walked in, wondering who the Head Boy would be. Professor McGonagall had said that it would be quite a surprise, and she smiled to herself, because she liked surprises. She'd be delighted if Harry or Ron were Head Boy, but she knew they hadn't been chosen because they did not have Head badges. Still, she tried to have an optimistic view about things. The head boy had to be someone responsible, and with good sense, didn't he?

But as she stepped into the room, all air left her lungs. Instead of gasping, she pursed her lips and glared at the Head Boy with narrowed eyes. Draco Malfoy faced her wearily, his hands in his pockets, showing no sign of aggression...yet.

Professor McGonagall told her it would be a surprise, not a shock! She thought indignantly, frowning. He flashed a classic Malfoy smirk at her, which made her simmer with anger promptly. They stood in silence, looking at each other in disgust, before Hermione sighed and decided they were being very immature for two seventh-year Head students.

"So you're Head Boy," she said stiffly, with no expression in her voice, still disbelieving that he would be chosen for such an honour. She felt that she deserved it; she had a clean record and top marks on every exam - but did he, really? After all the trouble he had caused for the past six years?

"So I am." He crossed his arms.

"Well, I definitely can't say I'm not surprised, but congratulations," she muttered coolly and grudgingly offered to shake hands. He looked down on her outstretched hand in disgust.

"Can't touch a Mudblood," he sneered, putting his hands behind his back pointedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently. She wasn't exactly surprised. "You haven't changed much over the summer, have you."

"What makes you think I would change, Granger?" he asked softly, hardening his expression slightly. His stance made her uncomfortable, and she was a little afraid to look into his eyes.

Huffing, Hermione made her way across the common room to her room. "You're annoying." It was a childish thing to say, but she liked the choice of words for their simplicity and wonderfully blunt edge.

"Look who's talking."

"You were, just now." She put her hand on the doorknob, somehow unwilling to go. He was clever enough to keep their argument going, and she admired that, though she would never admit it to anybody. He was a better debater than Harry or Ron, anyway.

"You were too." He smirked.

"Just shut up and leave me alone," she snapped.

He laughed without mirth. "You're the one who started this conversation in the first place!"

"Only because you were here, and I have manners!" she shouted and whipped around to glare at him, her hand clenched very tightly on the doorknob. Whatever admiration she had felt a few heartbeats before faded in the light of her fury. "And I know what you're going to say, so don't even bother wasting your breath by calling me a Mudblood. I deserve magic as much as you do, and my parentage is not my fault! It's stupid how you think blood really matters so much," she spat at him.

Draco took a small step forward but stopped when she recoiled. "That's probably the only bit of me you've been exposed to," he said quietly.

Narrowing her eyes, she let go of the doorknob and crossed her arms. "Oh yeah? Well, it feels like I've been exposed to you too much. I think I can say I know quite a bit about you, and I don't like any of it." Her heart automatically twisted with guilt at the harshness of her words, but she immediately reminded herself that she was talking to Draco Malfoy.

If Draco was stung by her words, he didn't show it. When he spoke, his voice was soft and dangerous. "You don't know anything about me."

She must have felt the awkward change from heat to frostiness and not have known how to respond, because she wrenched the door to her room open and disappeared inside without another word.

Frowning in frustration, Draco quickly ran a hand through his sleek hair. It was a bit too soon for a fight, he thought, stepping closer to her door. He honestly didn't mean to antagonize her; she just couldn't take in the fact that Draco was not just a spoiled rich boy. There were more sides to him than that. He raised his hand to knock, to make up to her by having perhaps a friendlier conversation, but hesitated when he heard someone talking. Though the door was closed, his frown grew more pronounced when he heard a distinct "I hate you." He didn't know who she was talking about exactly, but it sure wasn't difficult to guess.

He let his hand fall to his side, his expression stony. Wondering what in the world possessed him to make him want to have a friendly conversation with the Mudblood, Draco trudged into his own room to retire for the night.

You there? Hermione wrote. She still wasn't sure if the soul in the diary would leave to go somewhere else, like portraits, or stay in the diary all the time.

I've got nowhere else to go. Of course I'm here.

She sighed sympathetically. At least you've got connection to the world, even if you're dead. Hermione had learned to accept that this was the best she could get of him, and he wasn't exactly completely dead if part of his soul was still in the diary. He just didn't have a body, a true form. Every day after each class, she would rush back to her room just to say hi to Draco, and hurry back to her next class. Her professors noticed the change in her and were glad to welcome the bright girl's joyful spirit back.

I wish I had the freedom to leave this thing and come back, though. His words sounded extremely bitter; Hermione could imagine his scowl.

She waited till the words disappeared. I'd help you if I could...

Oh, but you can help me.

Her eyes lit up with interest and she leaned forward. She could? How?

Just keep talking to me, okay? It makes me feel stronger and more ... human for some reason.

She smiled at the prospect of being able to help him while doing something very enjoyable. Of course I'll keep talking to you. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to stop, anyway.

A/N: As always, a review would make me smile! :)