A/N: Ok, ok, I know that I said this chapter would be dedicated to my first reviewer for chapter eight, but something else came up. So, this Chapter is dedicated to my best friend Peachy, who might be over twohundred miles away, but remains close to my heart. Luv you, girl!

I've gotten some great oneliners so far.. but I'm still looking for a beta, or maybe just someone to bounce plot ideas off. The next chapter or two is prewritten, but after that... im afraid I'm drawing a blank. So, a little bit of encouragement might help!

Disclaimer: If you don't know by now that nothing is mine... we may have an issue.

Chapter Nine

Of all the things he could have said, this was the furthest from what Hermione had been expecting; her jaw dropped, and the blush that had finally died down sprang back to her cheeks with a vengeance. Her mouth worked for a moment, making her look like a fish out of water, before she finally gathered her wits about her enough to reply.

"Yes. Well, oddly enough, some people actually find me attractive," she spat scornfully. The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched downward in something that might have been called a frown, if it had stayed for more than a fraction of a second.

"I find you attractive." He said blankly, still holding her arm. He didn't try to fight her when she pulled from his grasp. "Obviously I find you attractive, or else last night-"

Whoa. Hold the phone. Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Last night had nothing to do with you. I was in duress, and you were just a convenient-"

"It definitely had something to do with me," he interjected smartly. " 'It takes two to tango', does it not? And I doubt that even you would just fling yourself into bed with any sniveling sod that came across you last night." The blond held his head high, convinced of his superiority, but she would be damned if she allowed him to gloat.

"If you don't deflate your ego just a little," she whispered furiously, "someone else might deign to do it for you, Malfoy." Hermione tried so hard to get in the last word; she had even turned partially away from him, ready to end the conversation.

"Call me Draco." There it was. The infamous Malfoy smirk was back and better than ever. His voice stopped her fleeing as sure as any grip would have, and he crossed his arms over his chest cockily. "I liked it last night, when you called me that." The smirk grew wider. Hermione could feel that unwanted pull of lust low in her stomach when he leaned forward and whispered, "And I loved hearing you scream it."

It took all of her willpower not to haul back and smack him so hard that his smirk would grow legs and run away. Instead, she raised her own lips to his ear, and whispered back clearly; "All you'll have is memories. I'll never make the same mistake."

She was halfway down the corridor before his voice stopped her again (why wouldn't he just shut up already). "I know your secret!" he called, and she stumbled over her own shoes from the shock. A good little bookworm like Hermione only has so many secrets, and he already knew she wasn't a virgin. She racked her brain, trying desperately to think of any other secrets the slimy Slytherin could possibly know. Oh dear. He couldn't know about the time I ran over my hamster with the vacuum… could he? No, most definitely not. Unless he was a Legilimens… not even her mother knew about her hamster. He definitely couldn't know about the time her mother caught her practicing how to kiss with her pillow. Definitely not that, either. She'd been 8 at the time, and determined to figure out just how those pretty girls on TV did it. There was no way he could know about that; she made sure her mother wouldn't ever tell a soul. It couldn't possibly be… oh dear. I'm never going to make it to COMC.

She turned to face him with as much poise as she could muster. Her normally pleasant face was cold and expressionless; her voice was razor sharp. "You have my attention."

Malfoy sneered at her, apparently satisfied for the time being. "have you told your faithful lapdogs yet?"

"Told them what?" Her willpower was being strained from the effort it took to keep her voice smooth and aloof, especially when all she wanted to do was scream out her frustration. If you expect me to tell them about what happened last night, you have a rude wakening ahead of you.

"You know…" he motioned her closer with one pale hand; reluctantly, Hermione came. She edged closer, closer, closer still, until she had crossed the whole hall, and the hems of their robes swished lightly against each other. She was only a little nervous, being this close to him. The head radiated off his body, and she almost missed his comment as she drew in his scent. "Told them who you are."

Wait. What? Part of her wanted to jump for joy; she wasn't alone in her knowledge any longer! Someone else knew who she was, knew that she wasn't completely herself anymore. The other part, the rational part that was the Gryffindor's studious knowledge-seeking part, forced her to be still. She wanted to hear what else he knew. During that brief moment of silence, her eyes grazed the floor, the ceiling, the multi-colored tapestries that hung limply on the walls: anything to avoid the piercing storm-grey eyes that Draco had so expertly trained on her. Those eyes were boring holes into her; she could almost feel them stripping away layers of clothing, and for a moment (his eyes locked intently on hers as she smiled up at him, before he covered her naked body with his own), she swore she saw the same memory in his eyes. The moment was broken when she sighed.

"Look, Malfoy-"

"I thought we agreed to call each other by our given names," he interrupted, raising his left eyebrow. They were still close enough that she cold feel the rush of air when he huffed. "Something about 'pretending to like each other'?"

I don't want to have to pretend! Her traitorous mind screamed. That, at least, was almost true. Draco Malfoy was the most skilled of lovers; she wouldn't have minded keeping him around for a little longer. It would be so much easier to do if they actually did like each other. She could like him; she was sure of it. She had enjoyed his company immensely in the library; if that's what he was like all the time, underneath all those layers of heartless bastard he put on every morning… She shook her head and backed a step away from the blond, who frowned.

"What do you know about it, Draco?" She emphasized his name mockingly, just to find that she rather liked the way it rolled off her tongue. Draco. Draco. Dracodracodracodrac-

"I know you're the long lost daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Griswald, who come from a very prestigious (and undeniably rich) pureblood family." He started to walk away. Without a thought, Hermione followed, staying close by his side. She was too preoccupied by the boy's knowledge, knowledge that she herself did not possess, to give a thought to the consequences. They descended the stairs, and walked through the corridor in front of the Great Hall which, Hermione noticed absently, was very crowded. The throng of people parted before them as they walked side by side, and she could almost hear the frenzied whispers of students behind them. Is that Hermione Granger walking with Draco Malfoy? I heard he put a spell on her to be his mud- his muggleborn slave. Well, I heard that he lost a bet, and now he has to do all her homework for a month. Oh, you're silly, Hermione would never let someone else do her homework…

All these comments filtered through the air unnoticed by the duo. They walked with a purpose born of the need for solitude, and neither paid attention to any of their surroundings. It wasn't until Hermione glanced at the clock that she realized just how late it was getting; her classmates were already halfway through COMC. She had long given up the thought of going to class, though, opting instead to drain information from the cocky Slytherin with whom she had spent the night.

"So, have you told your friends?" Draco asked again when they had reached the library. He had led them effortlessly to her favorite study spot, consciously mirroring the previous week's encounter. Releasing her breath (which she had held almost since they left the Transfiguration corridor), Hermione sat hard in her chair, resting her forehead on her arms on top of the wooden table. Draco sat across from her, heels propped once again on the scuffed tabletop.

"No," was her short reply, muffled to merely a grunt by the sleeves of her school robes. She waited for him to gloat, to shoot off a biting remark about knowing more of the Gryffindor Golden Girl's secrets than the Gryffindors themselves, but surprisingly, he did not. Instead, he stood and crossed to the window behind them, chuckling humorlessly.

"Hermione Granger, a pureblood. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the world had ended!" His words were harsh, but not so his tone. She raised her head, running her slender fingers through her unruly bush of hair before turning to look at him. The light shining through the window cast a luminous glow upon him, making his pale skin seem to glow. His profile was hidden from view by a curtain of jaw-length hair, and before she realized what she was doing, Hermione had moved next to him and was using the tips of her fingers to brush away the offending locks. He was startled, but instead of pushing her away like he should have, he only turned back to the window.

She cursed herself. Why was she acting like such a love-struck child? Yes, they had slept together. So what? It was a spur of the moment action, a rebellious move, something to help her forget her problems. It had worked for the night, but when the sun came again to swallow the peaceful moonlight, so had her troubles. When she told him that she wouldn't make the same mistake, she had meant every word, more than he knew. She wouldn't perform reckless acts to help her through. Not again. But, as his cloudy eyes stared out the window, surveying the grounds, she found that she would give the world to know what he was thinking.

He didn't know what had brought him to say it. Her words had cut him to the quick: "I will never make the same mistake," she had said, and turned to walk away. It could have been a twisted form of revenge, trying to hurt her as she'd hurt him, but Draco knew that that wasn't the case. She had been walking away; the perfect girl, the one for whom he had hidden his affections for years. She was walking away, and he did the one thing he could to keep her there; he'd told her that he knew. Then, she'd followed him down the corridor, and past the Great Hall, where swarms of students congregated between classes. It had been his own way of staking his claim, showing the students that she was with him, and in hindsight? An incredibly stupid move. When the Slytherins got hold of this information, he'd have to do some major damage control. But for now… for now, Hermione was all his.

Now they sat across from each other in the library. He was reclining in the chair; she, resting her head on the able. The anger he had felt this morning had dissipated; all that was left was an overwhelming need to keep her close. He asked her if she'd told her friends; she hadn't. If she hadn't told them that she was pureblooded, there was certainly no way in hell she had told them about last night… but that was fine. He'd be able to keep his hide just a little longer; he was loathe to see her baboons' reactions when they finally found out.

He crossed to the window, laughing a little under his breath. "Hermione Granger, a pureblood. If I didn't know better, I'd say the world had ended!" He meant it as an insult, he really did, but his voice came out soft and affectionate. Damn! He stared out the window, searching desperately for something to say. It was all coming together for him now. Hermione Granger was pureblood! The mere thought was enough to make him want to shout for joy.. .but he knew very well that Malfoys didn't show emotion.

That idea almost took a dive head-first out the window when he felt something brush against his cheek. He turned to his right, to find Hermione's warm, gentle hand brushing the hair from his face. He longed to smile at her, to pull her closer, but could not. His body wouldn't obey his brain's commands, and he once again turned to the window. The witch beside him withdrew.

"I.. I wanted to thank you for last night." She spoke quietly, as though she was afraid of disturbing the peace that had fallen between them. He remained silent; what did one say to that? After another period of prolonged silence, she continued, "I didn't think my note really covered it. I was having a really tough time of it last night, and you helped me to… you helped." She concluded simply, twining her fingers together in front of her.

His voice was flat and emotionless when he replied. "If I did you such a service, why didn't you stay?" He didn't want her to know that he'd been hurt by her disappearance; he just wanted to make her believe that leaving had caused him an inconvenience. Who knew how she'd react to discovering that the Slytherin Prince actually had human feelings.

"I told you I didn't want to be found." Hermione looked up at him, but when Draco didn't meet her gaze, returned to staring silently at her clasped hands. "It's not like what happened last night was serious anyway. I don't see what's bothering you so much."

He didn't have time to let the straws pile up; he just knew he couldn't let that remark go. Draco pushed away from the window, turning to face her angrily. She squeaked at his sudden movement, but to her credit, stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. "Not serious." Draco repeated stonily. "Not serious?" He didn't raise his voice. As he had learned from his father at a very early age, cold intimidation could get the job done much more efficiently than anger.

True to form, Hermione did not flinch at his icy tone; she merely narrowed her eyes as he continued. "Do you really think I invite girls to my bed on a whim? Do you think for one moment that I would have slept with you without contemplating the repercussions first?" His voice was still cold, hut flames shot from his eyes, melting the ice from his words, drenching them both in shock.

"There wasn't time for you to think," Hermione cried out desperately, attracting the attention of Madame Pince. The witch shockingly ignored the library Matron's fevered shushing, and carried on. "You hate me! If it wasn't impulse, then…" Her voice faltered, and her jaw went slack as Draco leaned forward.

"Don't ever presume to know what I think. What I feel." Sighing, he tucked an unruly lock of chestnut hair behind her small ear. Gazing into her eyes, he felt his stomach tingle deliciously, but ignored the sensation. This was no time to get emotional. "Get to know me, Granger," he drawled, his hand lingering briefly on the side of her face. "You might be surprised at what you find." With that, he turned sharply on his heel, leaving the fumbling girl alone to deal with the implications of his words.

A/N: So? Good? Bad? How'd you like Drakey? Lol. Press the button. It's calling your name; you're not imagining things.