A/N : Yay! Twice in one week, aren't you proud? I know you are.

Okay. New contest. Whoever can PM me the best new summary for this story gets the next chapter emailed to them. That's PM, NOT review. So reviews don't count. You can also PM me to tell me that the current summary is just fine, thank you very much. Whatever you like. I just don't know if the summary right now is good enough, lol.

All right! Thank you to Jessica, Jack, and Pharrah! I love you girls!

Damn.

You almost kissed her, you sodding idiotic dope! Again! What the hell possessed you to do something like that? Have you forgotten who she is, what your plan is?

No, he replied to himself firmly. And this will work with my plan.

How, exactly? the voice inside his head asked him.

It will help me gain her trust, to be so close to her.

Will you be able to control yourself?

Yes.

While he wasn't sure he quite believed himself, he was satisfied, and had finally reached the blank stretch of stone wall in the dungeons that concealed the Slytherin common room. He gave the password and entered into the deserted room.

The large windows looked as though someone had thrown great buckets of ink upon them. The Black Lake at night was foreboding at best, but to Draco it was a kindred spirit; his soul felt as black as the cold dark water, and his mood matched.

He seated himself before the dying fire.

What disturbed him the most was the fact that it wasn't always necessary to lie to Granger when he was with her. In the library with her tonight, for example. He hadn't been lying when he'd said she was attractive. As much as it surprised him, he had actually begun to notice the small changes about her that all worked together to make her more palatable to the eyes.

Her teeth were no longer oversized; somehow last year after he'd accidentally hit her with the densuago spell, she'd arranged for Madam Pomfrey to shrink them even further than their natural size. It suited her, actually, and made her face more feminine and her smiles brighter.

She still had the same crazy hair, but lately Draco had noticed that instead of being just one big frizz ball as of old, Granger had managed to tame it somewhat. Even though it couldn't be said that her hair fell in smooth curls around her face, it was slightly less bushy now, and one could actually see her eyes and appreciate the deep brown they were when they flashed and sparkled. Even Draco wasn't immune to that.

Surely she had noticed that her body had changed, as well. She had grown taller over the summer, and even though the Hogwarts robes left pretty much everything to the imagination, anyone could tell that underneath those yards and yards of fabric there would be the soft curves and lean legs of a woman. Her face had lost the chubby look of a child and the milky white neck rising out of the aforementioned robes was enough to capture the attention of many a young boy during Potions class.

She knew these things, didn't she? Obviously not. It was enough to make him laugh.

Draco knew he was handsome. He had known this from a very young age, and it never once occurred to him to question it. Naturally, he expected everyone else around him to be similarly aware of their own beauty or lack thereof.

The fact that Granger was attractive – but that she failed to realize it – struck him as quite funny. So he'd laughed.

Then the little nit had gone and gotten angry with him for laughing at her. He needed to save the moment and keep her there with him; his plan wouldn't work properly if she were angry with him. It would just be a setback. So he gave her some sound advice.

Never let anyone – ever – make you feel like you aren't beautiful.

He hadn't, of course, meant to say "beautiful;" actually he'd meant to say "attractive," but the other word had slipped out, surprising even him. It had done the trick, however, and she was putty in his hands again.

Then he'd walked her back to Gryffindor tower, like a true gentleman.

The real problem arose when he had turned to find her so close to him, breathing fast and gazing up at him with those wide brown eyes. The torches cast an otherworldly glow upon their faces, weaving a spell over them and causing Draco to notice for the first time the flecks of gold in the deep brown of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the deep black of her thick eyelashes as they fluttered closed…

Ah, but that way of thought leads to madness, he scolded himself.

He'd never been so relieved to see Potter and Weasley in his life. He'd never been so annoyed, either, and that bothered him. Could he really control himself and his attraction to Granger?

The next day there was a tumult of activity in the common room when Draco ascended from his dormitory. Everyone was huddled around the notice board, talking and arguing excitedly.

"She can't have!"

"What about Quidditch, then?"

Draco, never one to seem overly eager or to appear to not know everything that was going on, opted to ignore them completely and sat comfortably in his favourite armchair by the fire.

"I suppose one of us will have to go to Umbridge," someone was saying to Draco's left. He glanced over. It was Montegue, the new Quidditch captain, lounging comfortably on the sofa.

Draco gave sort of a noncommittal shrug, still unwilling to let on he didn't know exactly what was going on.

"I figured you could do it, then," Montegue went on, not looking away from the fire.

"What exactly did you want me to say to her?" Draco asked nonchalantly, his curiosity

piqued.

"Ask her for permission to re-form the Quidditch team, of course," Montegue replied, turning his eyes at last to meet Draco's.

"Right." Inwardly, Draco sighed. Damn. He hated that woman. Well yes, she was Potter's enemy, and Draco always found it rather amusing when she gave the git extra detentions and such, but personally he really found her completely intolerable.

Besides, why in the world was the Quidditch team disbanded in the first place? He made a silent resolution to check the notice board once everyone else had cleared out.

He wasn't surprised at what he saw regarding the disbanding of all teams, clubs, and organizations. After all, his father had hinted of more Ministry involvement at Hogwarts to

Draco during the summer holidays – when he wasn't harping on about the Dark Lord, that is.

So first thing, before even heading down to breakfast, Draco heading to Umbridge's office. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," rang the sickly sweet voice from within. Draco suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as if he were standing just outside the lair of a giant, evil lizard, waiting sinisterly inside to devour anyone who dared oppose her.

Going inside, he found her seated behind her lace-covered desk, calmly sipping tea from a ridiculously sculptured tea cup with a fluffy kitten printed on the side.

"I've been expecting you, Mr. Malfoy," she said in her sugary voice. "Please sit down."

Draco sat, surveying her expectantly. She raised her eyebrows, then chuckled. The sound alone was enough to make his skin crawl.

"I assume you're here about the Slytherin Quidditch team," she added after another moment. Draco nodded. When he offered nothing more, Umbridge went on.

"Seeing as how I know your father personally – and he is such a charming gentleman, by the way – I think you can be allowed to reform your little team without any further delay. This action was taken merely as a precautionary measure to keep less…worthy organizations from running wild…you understand, Mr. Malfoy," she finished, setting down her teacup and folding her hands demurely.

"Thank you very much, Professor," Draco managed to say. He even flashed her one of his most charming smiles before standing and leaving the room, grateful for the fresh un-perfumed air of the hallway.

Sighing, he rested his back against the wall and inhaled deeply. Something was definitely off about that woman. He hadn't the time or the energy just now to ponder what exactly that was, however; he needed to get to the Hall and tell Montegue about the team.

That morning – that breakfast in the Great Hall – Draco decided, was one of the worst he'd ever experienced.

He spent half the time dealing with Montegue about the Quidditch team – and the bleeding idiot didn't even have the decency to thank Draco for his pains – then the other half having to watch Padma Patil and Blaise Zabini and their public displays of affection across his uneaten breakfast. Padma had taken to sitting with Blaise at the Slytherin table as of late.

Ordinarily, it wouldn't have bothered Draco (past a mild nausea for having to witness such a sight); it wasn't as if he'd actually cared for the blasted girl, anyway. But today it grated on his nerves because he couldn't play the brokenhearted fool for Granger because she wasn't there to see it.

Potter and Whiny-Ass Weasley were there, of course, happily and obliviously stuffing their faces as if they'd never eat again. Ugh. But Granger was conspicuously absent.

Finally, he'd had quite enough, thank you. He shoved his plate away angrily and stalked out of the Hall, only to run head-long into who else but Granger, who seemed to be waiting just outside the doors.

"What the – what are you doing, hanging about in the doorway?" he sputtered, trying desperately to regain his composure as she blinked up at him.

"N-nothing." She looked extremely pale this morning, and perhaps as though she hadn't slept well. "Sorry," she mumbled as she took a quick step back to distance herself from him. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked, lowering his voice.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, of course I'm fine; why is everyone always asking me if I'm all right? I swear, it's not like I'm some invalid who needs constant care!" she snapped, almost before he'd finished asking. Draco's eyes widened.

What?

"I'm sorry, I was just asking," he said calmly. "You just don't look well this morning," he added, running his eyes over her again. Suddenly she raised her eyebrows and her voice and jabbed a finger in his chest.

"How dare you stand there and tell me what I look like, Draco Malfoy? Who the bloody hell do you think you are, anyway? Last night you tell me I'm beautiful; today I look like shite, is that it? Is that what you tell all the little girls when you want them to fall helplessly into your lap? Well, I'm telling you that you can take your brand of bollocks and go peddle it somewhere else, because I'm not now – or will I ever be – buying any of it!"

Then she turned tail and stormed away before Draco could even process what had just happened.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair, completely in shock.

On the way to his dormitory to grab his schoolbag, however, he regained himself and was suddenly angrier than he'd been in a long time.

Who does she think she is, anyway? Yelling at me like that? And now I'll have to start all over again. Damn her. She just doesn't know who she's messing with.

But now he had fresh anger to fuel his revenge. He realized afresh that Hermione Granger deserved everything she was going to get, right down to the very last particle of misery he was going to wring from her. He wasn't going to feel one bit of remorse for what he was doing, either.

No. Draco was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He didn't have much opportunity to work on his plan for the next three weeks, however. The first Quidditch game of the season was now only three weeks away, and Montegue had them on the pitch three or four times a week, training hard. This year, he was determined Gryffindor would not come out victorious over Slytherin.

A week before the match, though, the fates turned in Draco's favor yet again.

He was walking down a lonely corridor on the third floor –his usual shortcut to the Great Hall from the library, where he'd been studying – when he heard an unusual sound.

He stopped short to listen, and soon recognized the sound as that of a girl crying in a classroom just ahead of him. Wrinkling up his nose in distaste, he was about to turn and walk the other way when the girl suddenly burst through the door, smoothing her robes and sniffing slightly.

It was Granger. Upon catching sight of him, she stood rooted to the spot, mouth slightly agape. Draco didn't know what to do. There was no doubt that she knew he'd heard her crying, and even if he hadn't, her eyes were bright and her nose was red and Draco wasn't an idiot.

She regained her wits before he did.

"Malfoy," she said curtly, and turned to walk in the opposite direction without a backwards glance. Draco decided that now was his chance, and ran after her. His hand on her arm stopped her, but she didn't turn.

"Hermione," Draco said softly. She didn't move. "I'm sorry for the other day."

A minute passed. Then another. Hermione sighed at last and turned to look him full in the face. There were fresh tears in her eyes now.

"I didn't – " she began, but the tears spilled over her cheeks and her hands flew to her face as if to hide this weakness from him. Draco reached out and pulled her into his arms before he could stop himself.

He couldn't have told you why he reached for her. He told himself it was because he knew she would respond like she did, but that was a lie he concocted later to protect himself. Really he'd just wanted to hold her. So he did.

She melted immediately into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder, silently crying, wetting his robes with her tears, her arms threaded under his and held onto him tightly. They stood like this for a time, Draco gently stroking her hair and whispering soft words against the top of her head. Soon she pulled away and wiped harshly at the tears lingering on her eyelashes.

"Sorry," she muttered, pushing him firmly away from her, but Draco held her still and she didn't succeed as she tried to step away. "Let me go," she said angrily.

"No," he replied simply. She pushed harder.

"I said, let me go!"

"I won't. If I let you go, you'll just run away, and I don't particularly fancy running after you just now, if you don't mind."

"Damn it, Draco," she growled, relaxing at last in his grip and glaring at the wall to her left.

He chuckled.

"Language, love, language. What would McGonagall say?" he replied mildly.

"What do you want, anyway?" Her eyes flashed back to him, angry and sad and…something else.

"I want us to be friends again," he answered. Rolling her eyes, she pushed at him again, only causing him to tighten his arms around her.

"It doesn't work, us being friends," she mumbled. Draco laughed.

"So it isn't easy," he chuckled. "Who cares? So you fight with Scarface and Weasel a bit. So what? So people talk. Let them talk. Why can't we be friends, Hermione? And don't give me any excuses. If you can think of one good reason why we shouldn't be friends, then I'll let you go and never bother you again."

She closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. A few seconds passed, and Draco could almost hear her trying to think of something that would stand up to his reasoning. Suddenly she opened her eyes.

"All right."

"All right, what?" he pressed.

"As long as you promise to be agreeable to Ron and Harry – and not insult them, especially in front of me – and stop being such a prat to Gryffindors in general – and – "

Draco cut across her. "Slow down there," he said with a frown. "Soon you'll be having me standing up for Hufflepuffs in the halls and throwing the Quidditch match so Gryffindor can win," he finished sourly.

"Oh, all right," Hermione said, blushing. "Then just the part about being nicer to Harry and Ron. I mean, it's not like they haven't got enough on their minds just now – what with OWLs and all," she finished hastily, looking more than a little nervous as she did so. Draco wondered what she had meant by that. But he filed it away to think about later. Just now, he almost had her.

"I shall try to be – ahem – civil to your friends," he replied with a charming smile. "As long as they aren't the reason you were so upset," he added, scowling as he remembered her tears. Hermione looked sheepish.

"Listen, I'm sorry you had to see that," she said, not quite meeting his eyes and trying to push him away again. Draco captured her chin with one hand and turned her face up to look at him.

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. She smiled a small little smile at him, and he knew then, that he had won. "It's whoever caused you to be that way who should be apologizing."

She cast her eyes down and gave a sort of half shrug.

"If it was them, and I find out, I'm sure I won't be able to keep that little promise I made earlier," he added darkly. Hermione's eyes flew up to meet his again, and she almost looked angry for a second. Then she laughed.

"Thanks," was all she said. Draco was taken aback for about half a second. Then he laughed, too.

"So. Friends?"

"Friends," Hermione nodded solemnly. Draco suddenly remembered that he still had his arms around her, and he released her, but she didn't step back. He tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled a half-smile. Then he turned sideways and offered her his arm.

"Shall we go down to dinner, then?" he asked. Hermione's smile faded as she looked at his arm.

"Erm, I – I'm not really hungry just now," she stammered, taking a step backwards. Then she managed a shaky smile and shook her head. "I was actually on my way to the library when I ran into you," she added, her smile more believable now.

Draco smiled and nodded. "Well, I'll see you around, Hermione," he said cheerfully, waving his hand to her and turning to go. She waved and scurried off in the other direction; she was gone before he could even blink twice.

I wonder what that was all about, he mused as he made his way down to the Great Hall. Their conversation had certainly given him a lot to think about over dinner.

A/N 2 : Preview time, ladies and gentlemen (or possibly just ladies)! Boy, you guys are spoiled, you know that?

xxx

"Why are you doing it? Is it for him?" he ground out through clenched teeth. Hermione winced. "Aren't you good enough for him the way you are? Who does he think he is, anyway? He doesn't have enough; now he's got to have you, too?"

xxx