A/N: I apologize for the short chapters - they will begin to get longer, I promise. I also apologize, for those of you who have me on author alert, for all the Breakfast Club fanfiction I've been writing. I promise (so many promises) to focus on both HP and TBC fanfiction. And hopefully I'll have a new DMHG fic sooner rather than later.

If Hermione Granger had had qualms about taking care of none other than Draco Malfoy, her school-days nemesis and a complete and utter prat, they were exasperated by the fact that Malfoy loved to eat. And what was worse, no matter how much he ate, he never seemed to put on a pound.

"Malfoy, that's your third helping of pie!" Hermione exclaimed, watching in shocked horror as Malfoy wolfed down on a large piece of cherry pie (with extra whipped cream.)

Malfoy took a moment to swallow before answering, because Malfoys are, of course, very well bred. "Well, you baked me a pie, so I thought I'd better take advantage of it. Do you see my logic, Granger?"

Hermione glared at his smirk. "I didn't bake you a pie, Malfoy, a baked a pie. There's a difference."

Malfoy grinned at her. "Admit it Granger, I'm starting to grow on you." As he shoveled another heaping forkful of crust and cherries into his mouth, Hermione reflected on his comment. What had begun as a one-night stay had turned into a week of almost companionable discussions, and she wasn't actually disliking it that much. Draco Malfoy was starting to grow on her, Merlin help her.

"You eat more than Ron," Hermione stated, giving him a toothy grin and clearing her own plate.

Malfoy spluttered with indignation, as if being compared to her red-headed friend was the worst thing she could have said in regards to his eating habits. "I beg your pardon!"

Hermione rolled her eyes from her spot at the sink, beginning to wash dishes. "But what I really don't understand is how you manage to maintain such a waifish figure with the amount of food you consume daily," Hermione commented lightly, as if the fact that Malfoy was probably skinnier than her didn't bother her in the least. Which it didn't. Because she was Hermione Granger; she just didn't care about those sorts of things.

"Oh, I understand now Granger. You're not worried about me eating you out of house and home; you're worried about being fat." It was Hermione's turn to splutter with indignation. "Who'd think it?" Malfoy mused, eyeing her. "Hermione Granger, a regular teenage girl."

Hermione chose not to answer for some time. "What are you going to do if Hogwarts stays running next year?" Malfoy had since finished eating (surprisingly) and had joined her at the sink, drying the dishes she handed him and proving that perhaps he wasn't completely useless.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Go into hiding again, I suppose."

"What happened with Snape?"

"Snape is still working as a spy, so there was no way he'd offer me protection," Malfoy responded.

"Well, then you won't be able to go back to school at all, will you?" Realization finally hit her. "Because he'd be forced to turn you in to the Death Eaters." Malfoy nodded. "This is quite a predicament you've gotten yourself into, Malfoy."

"It's not as if I had a choice, Granger," he responded, instantly on the defensive.

Hermione let the silence hang between them for a moment before responding softly. "You could have killed Dumbledore."

He glanced over at her, still methodically drying. "I-" He shook his head. "No, I couldn't have." He finished off the last plate and placed it on the rack. "Goodnight, Granger." He began to walk in the directions of the stairs.

"Wait," Hermione said, and he immediately turned around to face her. "Thank you. For not killing him."

And then Draco Malfoy smiled at her, a genuine smile, and left to go to bed for the night. Yes, Malfoy was definitely growing on her.