Ginny knocked twice at the portrait to the Heads' dormitories before Hermione opened the door, beaming.

"Hi, Ginny!" Hermione said, leading the red-headed girl to the couch. "I'm so glad you can make it to lunch today... There's something I want to discuss with you."

"Sure, Hermione. Anything for a friend," she replied, smiling. "Wow that looks good!" Ginny looked at the coffee table that was practically overflowing with different kinds of sandwiches and a pitcher of ice cold pumpkin juice.

"Dobby did a wonderful job. He deserves all the credit," Hermione said. She took a seat on the couch and grabbed a sandwich off a platter. Ginny sat down as well and started to eat.

"So... what did you want to talk about?" Ginny asked in between bites.

"You are friendly with Malfoy, right?" Hermione asked almost cautiously.

"I suppose so. We aren't the best of mates but we are quite civil towards another...," Ginny answered.

"I know I've asked this hundreds of times, but I do need a serious answer: do you think Malfoy has changed for the better?" Hermione asked, toying with her necklace.

Ginny made sure to choose her words carefully. "Of course I do. He really has changed. I can tell that Draco has the ability to really care and maybe even love somebody if he chooses to. He is still the most arrogant prat around but underneath it all that he's a great guy. This has something to do with the necklace, right?"

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Harry was complaining the whole lunch hour yesterday on what a sour mood you were in... He did not get why you couldn't just accept the present! I do not think Draco has any ill intentions towards you... Besides, didn't Dumbledore say that the necklace is perfectly safe?"

"Yeah," Hermione grumbled. "He did."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be having a row with Draco over it... Instead I'd rip his clothes off and–"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What? It is a beautiful piece of jewelry. It probably cost him a whole sack of galleons! And you live with him. I'm sure by now you've noticed that he is the fittest guy in all of Hogwarts!" Ginny cried. She had gotten quite excited. She loved talking about boys and it was not too often she conversed with Hermione about that particular subject.

"I don't know," Hermione muttered. "I haven't really looked." She averted her eyes from Ginny, feeling a slight blush creep up on her cheek.

Ginny snorted. "You can't be serious. Have you seen his dreamy muscles? Or that ar-"

"Ginny," Hermione scolded once more.

"Okay, okay. Anyways, my point is: if a wealthy and handsome bloke happened to give me a very expensive piece of jewelry for my birthday I would not mind wearing it at all."

"I guess you are right," Hermione said, finally giving in. "It is rather pretty though isn't it?"

--

Draco was definitely one to hold a grudge that could last forever. This was no exception. He forgave Hermione the moment he fell asleep the night of their argument. He could not hold it over her head that she could not remember how much he had changed and how much she had loved how he had changed. It was not her fault that she could not remember that he promised her that he would never hurt her intentionally ever again. While she was forgiven such a long time ago, Draco would not apologize to her.

He was a Malfoy – stubborn and always right. He had nothing to apologize for. He was never at fault in the first place. Everything he did was for Hermione's well-being. It was not his fault that she did not realize that.

His life sucked, really. The girl he hated the most with every fiber of his being suddenly became the girl he loved with every fiber of his being. And when he thought life was absolutely perfect with his wonderful girlfriend his own father zaps her memory of their relationship. Now, she's not even talking to him. Two days of no communication whatsoever. He was getting the cold shoulder. She would not even glare at him. She handled all the Prefects meetings ignoring him the whole time, not asking for his input. She left the common room before he even woke up in the mornings and got back way after he had fallen asleep.

"You're sulking. Again," Blaise sighed. "You're a great way to start off a Wednesday morning, mate." He sat down next to Draco at their usual spots at the Slytherin table. Blaise wasted no time filling his plate with various pastries.

"It is not my fault," Draco said, stirring his spoon in his porridge bowl. He really had not been eating – or sleeping - these past couple of days. It amazed him as to why he even bothered to make an appearance at the Great Hall that morning.

"Well... technically, if it weren't for you and your memory keeper, she would not be mad at you in the first place."

Draco glared at his best friend. "You aren't helping."

"Actually, I am," Blaise replied, nonchalantly and buttered a croissant. "I'm helping myself. Why don't you try apologizing to Hermione so you can stop bitching and moaning the whole day? As much as you are my mate, it is getting infuriating."

"You can't make me." Draco pushed his uneaten bowl of porridge away.

"Draco..," Blaise sighed once more, "Sometimes I forget you're seventeen." He took a bite from his croissant and shook his head at Draco disappointedly.

--

Out of all the people who can plague her thoughts, no one other than Draco Malfoy kept her up half the night. Ever since their heated argument on Monday night, Hermione had been ignoring him. For the most part, Hermione was not even angry at him anymore which was all because of Ginny. Instead, Hermione was slightly embarrassed over the things she said to him. It was not very fair of her to accuse him of selling her memories out to the Voldemort – even if he was dead. She felt even worse when she assumed that he was going to call her a 'Mudblood'. He was absolutely correct – she had not remembered him calling her that awful name since the fifth year. She really did not know how to face him after that and was even more uncomfortable to apologize.

She was spending the rest of her afternoon in the secluded corner of the library – the same spot where she had caused a disaster. She used the same old excuse to no one but herself that she needed to do research and she was absolutely not hiding out from Draco who did not have quidditch practice. She read a copy of The Dream Oracle, making sure to hide it behind her copy of Hogwarts: A History. There was completely no way she was going to get caught with a book on divination.

She recalled her dream which she surprisingly remembered vividly, taking notes of anything "significant." Ever since the night of her party, these strange dreams have been plaguing her mind. They were very pleasant, but Hermione found it odd that every night she would dream about the same guy. Having a dream about the same person three days in a row was enough to catch her attention. She believed very little in coincidences. Something suspicious was going on.

--

"I'm bored," the boy whined. He shut close the book he was reading. He pushed back his chair giving him some room and propped his feet up on the table.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Put your feet down. We're at the library."

"So? No one's here," he replied. "They're all out having fun unlike us." He pouted.

"Well, we'd be done a lot sooner if you worked harder instead of taking a break," she said in her usual know-it-all voice, not bothering to look up from her text.

He yawned. "No, I don't think so... Do you want to play a game?"

"What?" she asked. She tore her glance away from her book and looked up at him.

"You know... a game. I am bored to death and we both know we could use a break for ten minutes."

"Oh alright. What game should we play?" She shut her own book and put it on top of her companion's.

"Weeellll, I was thinking we could play truth or dare. Without the dare part because I know you'll never consent."

"No. Absolutely not. I don't want you prying into my personal business!" She crossed her arms over her chest.

He rolled his eyes back at her. "Merlin, woman! Don't you know how to have any fun? If you must know, you will also get to ask me questions."

She thought about it for a second and sighed. "Alright. But I get to go first."

He grinned. "Excellent."

"What's your favourite colour?" she asked, unsure of asking anything controversial.

He laughed wholeheartedly. "Are you serious? I gave you the chance to go first and that's what you want to ask me?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine. Suit yourself. Did you actually lose your virginity last year?" she asked nonchalantly, admiring her nails. Her cheeks slightly coloured, surprised that she had the audacity to ask such a question.

His eyes grew wide. He definitely did not expect her to ask that question. He did not think she would have it in her to talk about sex. He thought for a minute whether or not he should lie to her for the fun of it but decided against it. He wanted truthful answers from her so it would only be fair if he reciprocated. "Yes," he simply said but continued when he saw her mouth drop open. "But its not to the girl you think. That's a complete lie. I haven't even snogged the girl, much less shag her."

"Who was it then?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. She had heard all the rumours last year about the so-called Slytherin Sex God. She was not sure whether or not to believe the story but always wondered about its validity.

He smirked. "Ah, ah, ah," he said wagging a finger at her. "You only get to ask me one question. It's my turn now."

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

"It's only fair that I ask, Granger: are you a virgin?"

She could not hide the blush that invaded her cheeks. She looked down at her lap, muttering, "Yes." She cringed inwardly, waiting for the assault of insults. She mustered up the courage to look back up at him when it did not come.

He caught her gaze and simply said, "It's your turn now."

She nodded; still unbelieving that he did not choose to torment her. "Would you rather... be best friends with Harry Potter or snog Pansy Parkinson?"

The guy's face contorted into a look of pure disgust. "I'll take Potter any day!" He shuddered tremendously at the thought of snogging with Pansy. "There is no way you could get me to touch that girl. She is not only revolting but she is also the most irritating person I know – which is a feat, I must say because someone else I know comes in a close second," he replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

"As if! I don't come nearly as close to Parkinson. I am not that annoying." She got up on her chair and put her hand on her hip. She imitated Pansy as best as she could by walking around the table seductively towards her companion. "'Babyyyyyyy,'" she cooed in a high pitched voice. "'Why don't you talk to me anymore?'" She pouted at him and batted her eyelashes endlessly. "'Don't you like my new robes?'"

He laughed at how ridiculous she sounded. It was as if Pansy had invaded Hermione's body. "You're not half bad. You just missed out on how she would jiggle her chest at me."

She gave him a half-hearted glare and a playful shove. He grinned back at her. "I was kidding! Okay... my turn: snogging Potter or Weasley?"

It was her turn to look at him with a face of disgust. "That's like incest! Harry and Ron are practically my brothers."

"Answer it," he said. He would not let her back out of it.

"Fine...," she replied. "I guess I would pick Ron."

"Ew," he answered in response. He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag.

Hermione snorted. "You wouldn't gag if you heard what Ginny said about Harry. I think she described it as equal to 'kissing Fang.' At least Ron has experience."

He laughed again, picturing Harry slobbering over the ginger-haired female. "I guess you have a point."

The two were quiet for a minute as Hermione pondered over the next question she was to ask. She chewed her lip in concentration, hoping to pick out a good one. "Okay, I got one: did you ever fawn over Fleur Delacour?"

"Of course I did!" he answered, not even giving it a second thought. "She's part veela. There would have been something wrong with me if I had not."

Hermione did not reply. She just sat there with her nose scrunched up as if she smelled something putrid.

"What's wrong with Fleur?"

"I think she's worse than Pansy!"

"But she's nice!" he replied.

"A little bit too nice if you ask me." She sauntered over to his side of the table again, mimicking Fleur. "Oh, 'arry, eet vas so nice of you to 'elp my sister. You are my 'ero." She clutched at her chest, and pretended to swoon.

He laughed again. "Maybe you're right. But you're doing it wrong again!" He got up from his seat and walked over to Hermione. "Oh, Meester Zabini. You are so 'andsome and polite. Eet is such a pleasure to meet you. My mother was right. Ze boys at 'ogwarts are more attractive. Vould you like to see my room?" He batted his eyelashes suggestively. He walked around the table, strutting and blowing out kisses.

Hermione had to admit, her friend made a funnier Fleur than she did. His accent was impeccable and he seemed to mimic the French student's every action perfectly. She doubled over laughing. She had to clutch at the table's edge to keep her from falling over to the floor. Sooner or later, both of them were laughing so hard from imitating Fleur and Pansy. They took turns with their best impersonations, sending each other into fits of giggles.

When their laughter finally died down and they could stop clutching at their sides, he smiled at her genuinely. "Don't tell anyone, but I kind of like hanging out with you."

--

As much as Hermione could recall from her dream, she could not point out anything of significance except for their conversation and the fact that they were in the library. She looked through the Dream Oracle, looking up things she had on her list. For some reason, she could not find anything that had to do with books or a library. When she finally found one on her list, she felt triumphant:

Imitation - To dream that you are imitating others, suggests that you are experiencing doubts in your own decisions. Alternatively, it means that you hold them in high regards and are trying to learn from their wisdom.

She frowned. That was definitely not the case. There was no way she holds Fleur and Pansy in high regards, nor was she yearning to learn from their wisdom.

"Merlin, this stuff truly is rubbish!" she muttered. She tried looking for other things of "significance" on her list, but got no other luck. She shut the book in disgust, regretting opening it up in the first place. "That was a waste of time."

It still bothered her to no end that no matter how vividly she could remember her dreams she could still not point out who this mystery guy was. He seemed so familiar, but at the same time she could not figure out who he was. She highly doubted that he existed – he was too perfect. If Hermione had to list all the qualities she would like in a bloke, for some odd reason, she knew the mystery man from her dreams would fit. He was witty, sarcastic, and confident but he was also gentle, intelligent, well-mannered, and a pleasure to be company. She smiled dreamily. 'If only he wasn't a figment of my imagination...' she thought.