Author's Note: Wow. Wowee wow wow. Has it really been over a year since this has been updated? I'm almost ashamed of myself. Actually, scratch that; I am ashamed of myself. This has been abandoned for far too long. I hope that some of you gave me the benefit of the doubt and decided to try and stick with it. I apologize times a million, but other than just saying that Senior Year of high school got in the way, there's not really much of anything I can offer in the way of an excuse. I love you all. Thanks for your support.

Chapter Four

"So, we need seven counterclockwise stirs after we add in the salamander phlegm, right?" Malfoy asked Hermione casually. She gritted her teeth in agitation. He'd been dancing around her for the past week, since their little confrontation in Defense Against the Dark Arts. They'd had to remain partners in the other class after Snape had claimed that they "took up too much classtime with their sniveling indecision," after the first day of choosing them. So now, Hermione had to deal with the pompous pureblood in not one but two classes.

"You have eyes. You can read the textbook." She retorted snappishly. Malfoy narrowed his eyes into silvery slits, but he didn't otherwise acknowledge her rudeness. No, not her rudeness, her hostility. Hermione was a lot of things, but rude wasn't often one of them.

"Not really, since you're currently holding it and I have my hands in salamander fluids." He pointed out. Hermione flushed irritably at his remark, since she was indeed holding the book out of his line of sight.

"You might have asked me to show you." She responded, just to have a comeback. He raised one pale eyebrow at her before dropping the ladle he was stirring with in the cauldron and turning to give her his full attention.

"Is this how it's going to be from now on? Because I sure as hell can find another partner to work with if you're going to be difficult. We're supposed to do this project together, Granger, and your prejudice is getting in the way." Malfoy announced with a smirk. Hermione felt her jaw drop as the blood rushed to her face. The nerve of that pompous, self-absorbed ferret—

"How dare you. My prejudice? You're the one who likes to degrade other people for their lineage. You're the one who prances about the castle like you own it just because your Daddy has money. You're the one who can't handle the fact that a Muggle-born can outwit you with little to no trouble." She hissed under her breath. Rather than getting angry, however, Malfoy just looked amused.

"You've come into this class with a chip on your shoulder every day this week. That's not my problem. Incidentally, you're doing the name-calling now, which I believe only serves to prove my point. Now, are you done making everything my fault, or are we going to finish this potion. Because as you've said, you have the top-of-the-class reputation to protect, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to get a failing grade just because you were too stubborn to work well with a pure-blood Slytherin." Hermione felt her jaw drop, and she stared at him, speechless for a moment, before turning coldly back to the cauldron.

"The textbook is on the table." Her voice could have frozen the sun, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy raise an eyebrow once more. Good, he would cause his pale, pointed face to wrinkle prematurely.

"I'll just add in this phlegm then, if that's alright with you." Malfoy's words were humble, but his tone and face only expressed amusement, which made her seethe even more. Instead of answering, she allowed her hair to fall over her shoulder and form a barrier between them as she measured out the dust of Mothwing that they would need to further continue the brewing of their potion.

"Excellent. Glad to see you're feeling conversational." Ron walked past their table then and snorted. Hermione glanced up in time to see a scrap of paper flutter down to her lap. She glanced at Malfoy, who was puzzling over something in the textbook, before unfolding and smoothing the torn parchment. Doodled on it was a ferret, charmed to move as though it were riding a broomstick, before getting knocked out of the air by a giant snowy owl. Hermione resisted the urge to giggle, but a chuckle escaped nonetheless.

"How charming." The snide voice of her Potions partner made her stop. She turned to see Malfoy looking down at the drawing with an expression of incredulity on his face. As he looked up to meet her eyes, she could have sworn she caught a glimmer of hurt. But it was gone before she could be sure.

"Shove off, Malfoy. It's not like you haven't ever done something like this before. Laughing at a drawing is a far cry from what you've done." Hermione retorted defensively. He raised both of his eyebrows this time.

"Wow, imagine that. Hermione Granger is right yet again. I have done worse. I admit it. But you want to know the difference between us, Granger?" She opened her mouth to respond, and he held up a hand. "The difference between us is that I'll admit where I've made a mistake. You're just one big hypocrite. Enjoy living your lie." Snape signaled the end of class as Malfoy finished his spiel, and the blonde stood up immediately, grabbing his bag and leaving Hermione speechless, once again, to clean up. As she vanished the wondered at what he'd said. Had it just been said in anger, or had he meant it? And most of all, why did she feel suddenly guilty for what was just an innocent doodle?