Ugh. Hermione's head was pounding, her legs ached, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

Water, her brain pleaded. She could do that. She prepared her body to move, noticing her outfit for the first time under the covers. Her black bra and green underwear. She remembered putting on her outfit for the Gryffindor party, but she did not recall taking her jeans and shirt off.

Please let it have been after I left the party. She couldn't bare the thought of Ron and Harry seeing her in her skivvies.

She saw a glass of water on her bedside table, but didn't remember putting it there. Too thirsty to care, she chugged the liquid and sighed as her dehydrated state became less so. She placed the glass back down and noticed a note scribbled on a spare piece of parchment.

Granger,

Drink this. It will cure any hangover you may posses, which I can guarantee you will, and help you remember last night more clearly.

What the hell? So what she just drank wasn't water, but an unknown substance from an unknown provider. Panicked, Hermione jumped out of her bed and started running around her room, not quite sure what to do.

As she ran, however, her headache began to disappear, and she could recall taking her shirt and jeans off in front of a hot, attractive…MALFOY?

She could see his surprised expression, how he had told her to stop. She recalled her very own words, about itching a certain scratch. She replayed her confession of wanting him, surprised when the feeling of regret didn't surface.

Because what she remembered the most was the intense pleasure she had in kissing him. On the couch. On the floor. By the fire. On the stairs. In her bed. And how she had wanted to do more, but he had stopped her and proclaimed she was too drunk, and if they ever did do that, they would both be sober.

Because he was a Malfoy and rape wasn't something a Malfoy had ever been accused of.

But then again, kissing a mudblood was also something a Malfoy hadn't been accused of.

Hermione decided it was the best option for the two of them. Obviously something had to have been done, before all the tension started affecting their lives, or worse, their schoolwork.

But the thing was…she wasn't sure she was done with him. Was their agreement last night a purely one-night deal? Or was it implied to last for as long as they needed it to?

There was only one way to find out. Hermione would need to face Malfoy and see what he thought. But, she had to look damn good doing it. That in mind, Hermione went into her bathroom and showered up, taking extra time to shave her legs and underarms. She spell dried her hair, put on her usual foundation and mascara, slapped on some lotion, and picked out her standard weekend apparel- muggle jeans and a purple v-neck that showed just the right amount of cleavage.

It's now or never. She walked down the stairs at her usual pace, and was happy to see the back of his blonde head over the back of the couch turn around to face her.

"Thanks for the hangover cure." She stated, stopping where she stood. He stood up, but remained on the opposite side of the couch from her.

"Don't mention it. And I mean it." Okay. So we were still going to be assholes. That was a start.

"Look-"

"I"- they started at the same time and both awkwardly stopped, intending for the other person to start.

"You go." Hermione said, putting her hands in her pockets.

"I just wanted to say-" please don't let him regret it, please don't let him regret it "that last night was…interesting."

"Indeed." She bit her lip, trying to keep her excitment contained.

"And I still hate you." His ice blue eyes were hard, and Hermione didn't doubt for a second the hatred he possessed for her. But that only made it so much more exciting.

"As I still hate you." He started to move toward her, so slowly she almost thought he was doing it on purpose.

"You are still a filthy know-it-all" He was getting closer.

"And you are still a pompous, elitist ass."

"But I don't see any reason we couldn't be…"

"Friends with benefits?" She questioned. He was mere inches from her now. All she would have to do is take a step forward to touch him.

"That would imply that we are friends, Granger. I was thinking more along the lines of" He pushed her hair behind her ear "…enemies with benefits."

"I see." His hand lingered on her cheek, and she did all she could not to lean into it.

"We couldn't tell anybody. My house would kill me if they knew me and a mudblood…"

"Like my house wouldn't kill me if they found out." Well, they wouldn't kill her...

"And this doesn't make us like, exclusive or anything. I can still hookup with whoever I want."

"As can I." He smirked, licking his lips.

"So we have an accord?"

"I suppose we-" before she could finish her sentence, he had her pushed against a wall, his tongue already claiming a victory over her own, his hands confused as to where they wanted to go first, her hair, her chest, her butt.

Hermione, of course, gave in. As she had discovered last night, the only place she would be willing to let Malfoy take control would be here. She liked the feeling of him leading the way, so all she had to do was follow. She also liked the feeling of his silk hair in her fingers, the feel of his hard, sculptured body molded against her own.

It was going to be an interesting rest of the year.